Page 20 of Howling Night

It was after midnight when the door opened, and my stomach dropped. Ryder Black walked in with three other men, all built just like him — tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying themselves with the same confident swagger. It was probably his crew from the construction company, if I had to guess.

They claimed a table in the corner, and Ryder’s eyes locked with mine for a moment before he gave me a curt nod. I was too busy to even give him a nod back. Besides, for all I knew, it wasn’t even intended for me.

Thank God, when it came time to order, Ryder approached Donna’s end of the bar. I pretended to be busy wiping down the counter, relief washing over me. I wasn’t ready for another tense interaction with him and probably never would be.

Donna slid four beers across to him, exchanging a few friendly words I couldn’t hear. Ryder glanced my way again before returning to his table, but I pretended not to notice.

Surely he was wondering what the hell I was doing there. But maybe not, considering he knew I’d been looking for work. Maybe he’d just assumed I’d found a job.

“Can I get another beer, sweeeetie?” a woman slurred as she leaned across the bar.

I wasn’t sure when we were supposed to cut people off, but it seemed as though the woman had to be close. I shot a look toward Donna, who gave me a nod.

“Coming right up,” I said, grabbing another of what she’d ordered last time.

Donna scooted closer, tapping her finger on the countertop as she looked the woman in the eyes. “Last one, Mabel.”

“Oh, shoot. Already?” the woman said, looking up at the clock, her nose wrinkling as she squinted.

“Nurse it,” Donna said, before going back to her side of the bar.

Ryder and his friends didn’t linger. They downed their beers in what seemed like record time and headed for the door. As they left, I caught Ryder’s eye one last time. Something unreadable passed across his face before he turned away and left the bar. This time it seemed as though he was the one pretending not to notice.

The night continued at its frantic pace. A group of women seated at a high-top table ordered a round of nachos and wings. I wrote the order down and placed it in the small window that connected to the kitchen.

“Order up,” I called, ringing the service bell.

No response.

I rang again, louder this time.

Nothing.

“Paul’s not answering,” I told Donna when she passed by with a tray of shots.

“Give me a sec,” she said, delivering the drinks before heading to the kitchen. She returned moments later, frowning. “He’s not back there.”

“Uh, what do we do?”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. He must have just stepped out for some air, or maybe he’s using the bathroom. I’ll get the wings started. Keep an eye on things, okay?”

I nodded, though my confidence wavered as three people approached, ready to order. I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile when all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed.

By the time Donna returned, I’d served six drinks and started a tab for a boisterous group that had just arrived, even though we were nearing closing time. I walked over to her and chewed my lip.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” I said, frowning.

She waved a hand. “It’s fine. A little more time to make some tips, right?”

“Right.”

“Oh, Paul’s back. He was just out back getting air like I thought,” Donna said, adjusting her top. “It gets really hot back there.”

“I bet it does,” I said, just as he set the nachos and wings on the pickup counter.

Donna crossed her arms and cocked her head. “You know, I’m going to talk to Steven about hiring you permanently.”

“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “This is too?—”

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