Page 9 of Melody

The woman then told her that the bartender who’d lost his job just days earlier had been stealing from the till and was finally caught on camera. That was when Scarlett found out her every move was being recorded.

Not that she had anything to hide…other than not knowing how to do this job.

And everything else about herself.

Fortunately, she’d learned that, after midnight, even if there were still quite a few people, the demand for alcohol slowed down and gave her a chance to breathe—and think. Al had already left after the bands had finished playing and Denise was cleaning the bathrooms. Usually, it was Scarlett’s job, but when Denise found out she was only working for tips, she said Scarlett needed to stay at the bar.

Even though Scarlett wouldn’t have minded the break.

Although tending bar had been harder than she’d expected, the tips were nothing to sneeze at. They would help her stay afloat until she could get her head on straight and figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

She’d been cleaning their workstations when she saw someone tall approach the bar. Ah…the guitarist from before. While she’d never say it out loud, she could admit to herself that the guy was good looking. Tall and solid, a cool tribal-inspired tattoo on his right forearm. Dark brown mussy hair that hung over his beautiful blue eyes.

Whoa. Scarlett pumped the brakes. The very last thing she needed was to get involved with a guy in any way, shape, or form. Even one this hot.

Unfortunately, there were plenty of empty stools now and he could have his choice of seat. Well…flirting a little, if it happened, wasn’t the same as hooking up. Not by a long shot.

When his blue eyes smiled at her, she said without emotion, “I thought you left.”

“One of my bandmates bought us a couple of rounds, so I sat on my ass for a while. But don’t think I forgot your promise from before.”

What the hell had she said? “Whatpromise?”

“To give me your number.”

“I don’t think I said that.”

“Right,” Kyle said, sitting on a stool. The lights from the bar gently shone around his face, giving his cheeks and lips an innocent, boyish quality—but Scarlett was pretty sure he hadn’t been unworldly in a long time, despite his age. She estimated him to be in his mid-twenties, maybe a year or two older than she was. His lips were still slightly upturned when he said, “I believe the word you used wasnegotiate.”

“I did, huh? You must have caught me in a moment of weakness. I don’t give anyone my number when I first meet them…even semi-celebrities.”

Kyle breathed an almost imperceptible laugh. “Don’t be stroking my ego.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I almost saidfauxcelebrity.”

This time, Kyle all but guffawed. “Faux? I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“I didn’t actually say it.” Scarlett was finding their banter fun, but she wasn’t getting anything done—and she definitely wasn’t earning any tips. “Can I get you anything?”

“I think I’ve had enough beer. Could I get a Coke or something?”

“Yeah.” A soft drink wouldn’t generate a tip, but at least maybe she could get back to work and stop this distracting flirting…or whatever it was. While it was amusing, she also knew it was futile—and not too smart.

When she placed it on the counter in front of him, he picked it up and sipped. “What do I owe you?”

“Nothing. We don’t charge for soda.”

That didn’t deter him from placing two dollar bills on the counter. “You still had to do the work.”

“You don’t have to tip me.”

“Iwantto.” With a slight frown, she nodded and picked up the bills. He wasn’t wrong—she’d still had to provide the service, and that was what tips were all about. But then he added, “Besides, it helps with negotiations.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Good luck with that.”

“So what’s your name?”

Just as she’d been doing over the past several weeks, she gave it conscious thought. She still wasn’t in a place where her new moniker came out of her mouth naturally as if she’d been born with it. “Scarlett.”

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