Page 9 of Everything I Crave

“Uh - I - there’s,” I stumble pointing at the counter, but still staring.

The asshole laughs again. “Breakfast?”

“Yes. Breakfast. A gesture to say thank you,” I manage.

He takes a seat at one of the stools next to the island. His scrutinizing gaze watching my every move. “So, Willow Harper, tell me. What exactly is it you’re running from with my tequila?”

I was really hoping to avoid this question. “Life. I guess. But today? Lorelei. More specifically, the bitch I’m being because she loves me and I’m just - not ready.” I flip the eggs in the pan, without turning to look at him. Admitting what I’m doing to my mother, I can’t face this man.

“I get it. That’s honestly how I ended up here. I came home from deployment and was messed up for a while. My brother and I, we were somehow lucky enough to serve together. But neither of us was ready for Momma’s suffocating style of love when we got home. He went back into the service, I hopped in my Jeep and drove until I thought the demons were gone. Or more likely, I realized if I kept going I’d need my passport before I ended up in Canada. I saw a for sale sign, and took it.”

I place his omelet in front of him.

“Wow. Just like that, huh? I did the opposite. I ran home, and now I’m stuck. I need a job so I can find somewhere else to live. My sisters are the same level of suffocation as mom so they’re out.”

He digs into the omelet, letting out a sigh of appreciation.

“This is amazing.” He takes another bite before continuing, “You can really cook.”

“Just a hobby,” I shrug, not letting on that this is one of the five things in my repertoire.

“I could hire you. You said your best friend owns a bar? Do you have any experience? And I have two rooms open if you’re interested.” He winces, I’m guessing he didn’t mean to offer that.

“Are you sure?” I laugh at his face.

“No. I mean, yes I am. But no.” He takes another bite. “How about that experience?”

I’m faced with an opportunity here, and if I’m honest, the opportunity might not be there anymore. While technically I have helped in Rhett’s, it’s not like I did much beyond deliver a drink or two. But I’ve been in a lot of bars, how hard could it be to pour some drinks?

“I’d say I have some experience.” I stand tall, trying to look calm over the fact that I’m technically lying, but still confident.

He puts his fork down, looking me in the eye. “We need rules if you say yes to all this.”

“Like wearing clothes to breakfast?” I raise my eyebrows pointing at his bare chest.

“Yes. Clothes. Always clothes. But you also have to promise me no more drinking. The bottom of the bottle isn’t going to get you any answers. I can promise you that from personal experience. I don’t let any of my staff drink in my bar. Not even on their off nights. And you shouldn’t be drinking anything until it’s for a reason other than numbing the pain away.”

I turn to get my breakfast out of the pan, “I can do that.”

“And,” he continues, “no kissing. At all. Ever.” He stares at me.

Ugh. More memories of last night. “Right. No kissing. But I think you were thinking about it too.” I smile slyly remembering the strain in his jeans.

“No. Kissing,” he repeats.

I laugh, “Okay, when can I start?”

“Well, it is Saturday night. And I’m short-staffed already, so tonight good for you?”

“Yes! Perfect! Now what about this offer to be your roommate?” I lean over the counter to eat my breakfast.

“You can stay here, get back on your feet, and get the space you need. As long as you follow the rules. Does that work?”

I eagerly shake my head yes.

“If you want I can help you get your stuff from Lorelei’s before you start tonight?”

I appreciate his offer, but I think I need to do this on my own.

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