Page 3 of Always Be an Us

"Sweet horsepiss?" I ask when my mouth starts working. "Did you just say that it tastes like sweet horsepiss?"

"Yeah. You sound surprised."

I cross my hands over my chest. "Well, no one has ever complained before."

"Because they probably don’t know any better."

True but rude to mention.

Another ding on his phone drags his eyes from mine and starts typing, which is good because now I can think clearly again.

"Look the drink is tolerable," he says as he types something on his phone. "Just get me another burger. And tell your cook I can give him a recipe if he wants one."

Thinking about what Yule's reaction to that request would be almost makes me laugh, but I shake my head instead.

"I don’t think so," I tell him.

"You don’t think so what?" he asks without looking up.

"I don’t think we can make you another burger."

He stops typing to look at me again.

This time, I steel myself against his eyes, standing my ground.

Really, my Grandpa's tiki bar can’t afford to turn away customers in our current financial state, which is why I’ve tried so hard to appease this guy. But I can’t keep wasting valuable resources on trying to make the Goldilocks' porridge of burgers for this asshole. Rick would probably have thrown him out three burgers ago, but I'm a pushover.

"You're denying me service?" he says, and I almost sense a quirk in the corner of his lip, like he was just on the verge of a smile.

He probably enjoys the torment he’s putting us through.

"I just don’t think we have anything you’ll like," I answer smoothly. "I’ll get you your check."

"No need." He rises from the seat and straightens to his full height, which is towering over my five-foot-four frame by nearly a foot. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a hundred-dollar bill. "That should cover it. Plus a tip, for the inconvenience."

"Oh no, you don’t have to." Now I feel bad for trying to get rid of him, even though I shouldn’t.

"No, keep it."

"That’s almost a two hundred percent tip. I can’t take that."

Take it,an internal voice screams.You probably need the money more than he does.

But I ignore it, reaching for the cash, calculating his change in my head.

Which ends up being a big mistake.

Because as I grab the money my elbow jams into the tray and the rejected burger goes flying, landing right on his slacks.

I gape staring in horror as the burger then falls to the ground, leaving behind a massive, greasy-brown stain on his cream khakis.

"Jeez." There’s not a single trace of amusement in his voice now. "You were already kicking me out, you didn’t have to throw food at me on top of it."

"I didn’t." I shake my head, still in partial shock. "I’m so sorry! It was an accident. Here let me–"

I grab a napkin from the table and start dabbing the stain, but somehow it only makes it worse, spreading the mess across the fabric.

Two large hands wrap around my wrists and halt my harried movements.

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