Page 45 of The Bartender's Baby

She nodded and smiled before heading to the door.

Andthatwas what she didn’t do perfectly.

That smile she tossed my way. The guarded one that barely tilted the right side of her mouth. The one that let me know she still wasn’t all in.

Sure, I knew she had feelings for me. I couldn’t deny that. She had placed her trust in me years ago, but especially these last few months. It hadn’t been easy on her to come to rely on me, yet a piece of her still waited.

I didn’t know what exactly she was waiting for, but she hadn’t closed the door all the way. As if she needed a quick getaway. Just in case.

THIRTEEN

TABBY

By the time I pulled into Walt’s parking lot, I was fuming, having had enough time to properly stew. The group project went terrible. Even though Kevin had completed his portion, when it came time for him to explain his portion of the slide deck, it was as if he’d never seen them before, so I could only assume he’d found someone else to do his work. And Maureen. Poor Maureen. After working with her these last few weeks, I found it obvious she had some kind of anxiety disorder. In-person classes were probably not the best option available for her, to say nothing of being required to give an oral presentation to a classroom of about thirty-five people. The girl couldn’t make it through one paragraph.

I ended up taking over for her and pretty much carried both Maureen and Kevin on my back, but I couldn’t get us anything past a C. When I spoke to the professor after class, he was understanding of my plea that I deserved a better grade but reiterated that this was agroupproject, and he actually would have given us a lower grade if not for me. So, I had to accept this less-than-stellar grade and swallow it, bringing my average down for the semester.

I wasn’t one of those people who argued for every point, but I was an A student. I wouldn’t waste my time or money on taking classes to earn anything less.

So this shit really fucking pissed me off.

I marched into Walt’s and slammed my bag on the table in the office, where Nate worked on his computer. “Whoa. Take the evil queen vibes down a notch.” When I scowled at him, he held up his hands. “Want to talk about it or just light some shit on fire?”

“You volunteering?”

“To light shit on fire, yes, but not to be the target.” He angled his head, hitting me with his endearingly dumb grin.

Then he stood and held out his arms, and I walked into them, burying my nose in his chest. “We got a C-minus.”

“You what?”

I lifted my head, leaning away slightly so he could hear me, though I loathed to leave any part of his embrace. “We got a C minus on the project.”

He grunted then wove his fingers into my hair, pushing my face back to his pec. I suspected he liked me there as much as I liked being there.

“That sucks. I’m sorry. You worked really hard.”

I sighed and turned, my ear against his heartbeat. “Not hard enough to cover for the other two.”

“But you’re done, right? Officially on spring break?”

I answered through a yawn. “Yeah.”

He gripped my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. “You tired? Want to go home?”

“No. I want to work.”

He bent down, eyes flicking between mine as if determining exactly how tired I was. “Okay, but if I see you flagging, I’m making you go home.”

“Fine,” I agreed.

“And I’m putting a stool behind the bar so you can sit while you work.”

“Absolutely not.” I brushed his hands off, suddenly really energized. “I am not going to be sitting on a stool to work. No one can serve drinks that way.”

“You look?—”

I spun around, my finger pointed at him. “I wouldn’t finish that statement if I were you.”

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