Page 5 of Snow Harm, No Foul

My nerves swell when I pull into the plowed parking lot and stare at the Open sign hung on the door. There are a few other vehicles here, but not many. Maybe that will change later.

“You’ve got this,” I tell myself, inhaling a reassuring breath.

Fuck yeah, I do.

I don’t give myself another second to doubt that before I’m grabbing my things and stepping out of the car. Locking it twice, I head for the bar.

Leather and popcorn are the smells I notice first when I get inside. I was expecting something like stale beer or oil, but this is much better.

I make quick work of wiping my boots off on the entry mat and shrugging my snow-coated jacket off. Then, I drape it over my arm and make my way through the tables at the front.

The majority of them are empty, but a few are occupied. An older couple flashes me quick smiles that I return before continuing my search for the bar. I find it past a few more tables, outlined with bar stools. Only a handful of them are occupied, leaving me plenty of choices. There doesn’t appear to be anyone working the bar, so I take a seat at the end, well enough away from everyone else, and decide to wait.

I lay my jacket and purse over the stool beside me and set the gift bag on the bar top before pulling my blonde hair in front of my shoulders, hoping that the curls haven’t fallen completely. My button-up pink blouse is professional and one of my favourites, but I notice the top button has come undone the way it always seems to. Doing it back up quickly, I worry my lip, realizing I forgot to safety pin it shut before I left.

It’s okay.It’ll hold now.

The sound of a door swinging open and shut comes before the scent of the fryer oil I was expecting to smell earlier. I focus on the short man who comes out from the back room with two baskets of fries in his hands and glides behind the bar to hand them out to the guys a few stools down from me.

He doesn’t have a name tag on his plain black shirt, so I wait until he’s coming back my way before waving him over.

“Hi!”

He pauses, his thick brows creasing as he looks at me. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else had come in. Do you have ID?”

“Oh! Yes, one second.” I dig around in the zipped pocket of my jacket for my small card holder before pulling my ID out. “Here you go.”

The bartender takes it and looks between the picture of me and the version sitting at the bar before handing it back with a smile. “Thank you. Now, what can I get you, Ivy?”

I put the card back in my jacket before leaning over the bar and saying, “I’m here to see Niko, actually. Is he here? We have a business meeting.”

Eyes growing wide, he stammers, “Uh—yeah. Yeah, he’s here. Let me get him for you.”

His obvious nerves are confusing. Is Niko really that terrible that the guy working the bar is scared just to get him for me? Surely not. But the only other reason for his weird behaviour is that I make him uncomfortable, and that would upset me too much to entertain.

I dressed nicely and spent extra time on my hair and makeup. My lips are glossy and a muted pink that matches my blouse. I put my tight jeans on for this because they’re the only ones I own without rips in the knees. Sure, my breasts are stretching the blouse a bit, but for god’s sake, does that really matter? I’ve done everything I can do to appear like I’m here for business and nothing else.

“Could I actually get a water first?” I ask, needing something for my dry mouth.

“Of course. Yeah. Coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

I chew on the inside of my lip and watch him pour me a glass of water and set it on a coaster in front of me. He adds a straw to the glass, and I flash a grateful smile before taking a sip.

“I’ll go get the boss,” he says after a moment of silence.

“I’d appreciate that.”

With a rap of his knuckles to the bar, he takes off. I risk a look at the men eating fries and quickly turn forward when I notice they’re already staring at me with obvious curiosity.

While I may have been in town for a few weeks now, this is my first time in this bar. I’m wishing I’d have been here a few times before right about now.

I sit and wait long enough for me to have emptied my glass before the back door swings open again. Straightening my curved posture, I watch the bartender come out alone.

“He’ll be right out,” he tells me when I open my mouth to ask.

I settle on the stool with a nod. “Thank you again.”

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