Page 11 of The Love Wager

He opens the box of pizza, and I tear a slice off. I close my eyes and moan. “Fuck, I needed this.”

Opening my eyes, I find the alluring hazel ones of my nemesis staring back at me as she pauses beside Nick, a pink tinge filling her cheeks as she gapes at me.

“What?!” I ask, gripping a bar towel and wiping my mouth clean of whatever the fuck she’s looking at.

She needs no more ammo tonight. I’m going to have wounds for days after all the shit she pulled in my bar. Butch won’t have it any other way. No one has ever dared to act how she has. If she were anyone else, I’d probably respect her more for going toe to toe with me.

She sighs, rolling her eyes as she slips onto the stool next to Nick. “Nothing.”

She raises her hands to both of us as if to allow us to inspect them before she digs in. “Do you want to smell test them?” she asks Nick.

He laughs again, and its melody nearly patches my soul, which has been a little broken for the last few years.

“No, pretty lady, we trust your word for it.” He pushes the box toward her as I tug at a piece of my crust.

Even if she’s nice to Nick and makes him smile, she’s a pain in my ass. I remind myself of that fact as I add more bricks to the wall that had slowly been coming down around my heart as I watched them interact.

She licks her lips as she tears into the biggest slice, her fiendish throat singing praises for Joe’s cooking instead of curling around the notes of a country song.

I gulp down half my soda as Nick looks between the two of us, narrowing his eyes.

“So,” he drawls out, “what’s your name?” he asks, swiveling toward her on his stool.

She looks up at me, seeming to mull over the idea of giving it to him in my presence.

I grind my teeth. She has this thing about her. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, exactly, but it’s fucking annoying. I know that much.

“Indie,” she says as she swallows down her pizza.

My head tilts. Of course, I knew her name already. Taylor introduced us awkwardly when I shut down their little karaoke stunt before closing, but there’s something about hearing her say it.

“That’s a cool name. Original.”

It’s fitting for someone who shines brighter than anything around her. Independently illuminating every space she’s in like a star.

What the fuck is the matter with you? Get your shit together!

The inward chiding does the trick, breaking me out of my stupor as I turn and start washing the glass that’s now empty in the sink behind me, all while keeping my ears open to hear their conversation.

“My mom was from Washington and in her hippy phase when she had me. There was a girl named Willowbark in my kindergarten class,” she says, grabbing a garlic knot and sinking her teeth into it.

I lick my lips as I watch her eat. I feel like a bystander in my own bar.

Nick laughs. “Stop! No, there wasn’t!”

“There was, and I think there was an Apple, too.”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“No, I’m not!” She laughs, and I swear the electricity in the place flickers, given more power by the notes in her tone.

I slam my hand down on the bar, nodding toward the pizza box. “You’ve had your pizza. Get your bag. I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

She swallows, looking at Nick as if he’ll save her.

“Man, what has gotten into you tonight? I know you’re always high-strung, but this…”

I whip my gaze toward him, and he puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but you’re being an asshole.”

---