Page 12 of Worth the Chase

“I’m a bartender. You’re temporary,” I reminded her because while, yes, I had hired her to work at Addi’s new barbeque restaurant under me, I knew this wasn’t her life goal.

“You never know. I might love it.” She offered me a shrug before pulling her feet out from under her. “My leg is asleep,” she said before rubbing it with her fist.

“I’m sure you didn’t go to college for four years, only to end up slinging drinks in our hometown,” I said, and she cocked her head to the side to glare at me. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just don’t see you doing it long-term.”

I wasn’t trying to be offensive to her or the many bartenders of the world. Hell, I was one, and I absolutely loved it. But the service industry was tough. You needed thick skin to deal with the variety of personalities that walked through the door. Anna might be great with that part for a little while, but I knew she’d eventually grow to hate it, as so many others had.

“No. I went to college for four years to study child psychology, only to realize that I want absolutely nothing to do with child psychology.”

We’d talked about this subject a million times since she’d been back in Sugar Mountain. Anna still had no idea what she wanted to do for a career, and she felt like a failure somehow because of it.

“I think most people don’t know what they want to do for the rest of their lives. And if they do, that’s really rare.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked sad. “I mean, everyone acts like I should have it all figured out. Just because I graduated college doesn’t mean that I suddenly know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re trying new things. To see what you love and what you don’t. You’re only twenty-two.”

“You’re twenty-two, and you know what you want to do,” she said in a serious tone.

“I mean,” I tried to argue, “not really. I just went through all of that shit to be a real estate agent, and I don’t even enjoy it.”

She barked out a laugh. “That does kind of suck.”

“I wouldn’t have known though if I hadn’t at least tried. I’ve always liked bartending, but I think the saloon tainted it more than I’d realized,” I admitted, and she sighed.

“I love that damn saloon. I wish we could still swing on the rafters.” She sounded almost smitten, like being a prostitute back in the day was some kind of romantic notion.

The glass ceiling, where the women had swung from and tempted the men, was still visible to this day. And the photographs from those times lined the old wood walls, showing off the history. It was kind of neat to look at, but hard to imagine it being real.

“Swings might have made it more fun,” I agreed with a laugh. “But Barry would still find a way to ruin it somehow.”

“Ugh. Barry blows.” Anna stuck out her tongue.

Barry was the longtime owner of the Sugar Saloon and was very stuck in his ways. He didn’t like change. It had taken me almost a year to convince him to let me create a seasonal drink menu. And once I finally had, he’d complained the entire time, making me feel like my idea had been stupid somehow when I knew it was the exact opposite.

Only once Addison had moved back into town and decided to open up a fancy barbeque joint, with a stand-alone bar, did things start to look up. She offered me the bar manager position and gave me full rein on whatever kind of cocktails I wanted to create and to hire whoever I wanted to as well. I wasn’t even working for her yet, but I already felt appreciated and excited. I’d quit the saloon the next day. Barry hadn’t even seemed to mind.

“Wait,” Anna said, breaking me from my thoughts. “Back to thisMatthew house-shoppingthing. You hate real estate, but you’re still going to do it for him?”

“He said I was the only one he could trust.” I repeated his words for her to decipher.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Guessed she was about as good at reading Matthew’s mind as I was.

“I have no idea.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“No.”

“Okayyyyyy.” She dragged out the word dramatically. “So, did he sulk around your station tonight, like he always had at the saloon?”

I reared back. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she said as she pushed up off the floor. “My butt’s killing me.” She moved back onto the couch. It dipped as she sat next to me, her body angled toward mine.

Blowing out a breath, I pretended to be unfazed as I delivered this next tidbit that I knew would send her into a tizzy. “He hung around a lot, yeah. And he asked me to go home with him.”

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