Page 9 of Waiting for Redemption

I wasn’t too fond of the unwelcome memory, and when I stood up from the bench ready to run the thoughts away, I almost took Ruby out right there on the bike path. As if I didn’t already feel like enough of an asshole for that, she then pointed out that I never really talk to her at work. I’m kind of glad she noticedthat,and not the fact that anytime I look up from what I’m doing my eyes seem to magnetically find their way to her. It’s not intentional, the fact that I don’t talk to her, my mind has just been elsewhere lately and it’s really taking everything I’ve got to be there in the first place.

I feel like I’m going crazy, living my life on a loop. All I do is work, go home to pour myself a glass of whiskey, then fall asleep in front of the TV. It’s like I’m 81 not 31, which is why I finally dragged my ass out of the house to go for a run this weekend. If I don’t find some kind of hobby soon, I’m going toactuallylose my mind—or drink myself into liver failure. Here’s to a new day and trying to hold a simple conversation with Ruby so she doesn’t start thinking I hate her or some shit.

“What’s up, Steamroller?” Ruby smiles as she wipes down some glasses. I smirk and shake my head as I throw the bar towel over my shoulder while unloading more glasses behind the bar. Her giggle gets my mind lost in the fact that she’s so unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. Because even though I haven’t made the best first impression, she still seems optimistic about our friendship. I can’t for the life of me figure outwhythough—she barely knows me and so far it seems like I’m doing abang-up jobmatching her efforts. Not speaking to her and almost giving her a concussion don’t exactly seem like qualities someone sees and goesyeah, let me be friends with that guy.

“Landry, snap out of it.” Ruby’s voice breaks me from my thoughts just as a lemon wedge hits me in the head.

“Did you just throw a lemon at me?” I accuse, making her force a clueless expression.

“I would never. That’s highly unprofessional,” she says, dropping more wedges into their canister. “But I do need you to count down the register.”

“Uh huh. You know, blinding your coworker by getting lemon juice in their eye is also highly unprofessional.” I grab the bar towel from my shoulder and try popping her with it, barely missing her as she hops backward.

“Whatever, you’d look fine with an eye patch.” She cuts her eyes over to me, giving the brief feeling she might be flirting with me. But then again, she’s probably just being nice.

The bar is super crowded today and I’m about at my wits end with the amount of blatant stupidity I’ve dealt with already—and it’s only 4 PM. Much to my dismay, the obnoxiously loud drunk guy that’s been at the pool table with his co-workers since about noon, decides to plant his ass on the barstool right in front of me.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“What can I get you?” I ask, grabbing a coaster from behind the counter.

“Ah, shit. Wrong seat.” His head falls back like a toddler that’s delirious.

“By all means, go find a new one.” I grab the coaster to drop it back behind the bar as his head turns from side to side.

“Where’s that sexy tattooed babe that’s always working back here? Let me grab a seat in front of her.” He sways in his seat as he chuckles, but his comment stops me in my tracks.

“On second thought, why don’t you stayrightwhere you are.” I tap the counter, grabbing his attention. His brows knit together in the most dumbfounded way, and then his face smooths like a realization has hit him.

“Oh. I get it. Don’t worry buddy. I’ll only look, no touching. Unless she asks nicely.” He snickers to himself.

Yep. I’ve heard enough out of this guy.

I slam my fist on the bar and grab him by the collar, bringing his face just inches away from mine.

“Here’s what you’re going to do.” I smirk at him humorlessly. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth, pay your tab, and get the hell out of this bar before I break your jaw.” I release his collar with a little more force than I intended, sending him stumbling onto the floor.

“What the hell, man!” he yells.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ruby runs up beside me, looking at the guy on the floor and then up at me.

I see the predatory spark in the guy’s eyes as he looks over at Ruby and my jaw immediately tightens, my hands balling into fists as he stands back up. One more fucking word out of this guy about her and I’m going to jail.

Before either of those things can happen, Ruby nods to Marco to handle things out front and pulls me into the kitchen.

“What’s going on? What just happened?” She releases my hand looking up at me with those big brown eyes. My jaw seems to relax at her touch, and I’m surprised by the immediate effect she has on me.

“He was just talking shit. I told him to cut it out and when I let go of him, he fell over.” I shrug, trying my best to spare her the details.

“Okay. Well, drunk bar patrons always talk shit, you can’t threaten all of them or you’d never get anything else done.” She narrows her gaze like she knows I’m leaving something out.

“I didn’t say I threatened him. I said I told him to cut it out,” I correct. She crosses her arms over her chest, raising a brow like she doesn’t buy a single word out of my mouth.

“I don’t threatenallof them. Only the ones talking shit aboutyou,” I admit, holding her gaze as she processes what I said.

“Hmm.” Her cheeks turn pink as the shock settles on her face. Next thing you know, Ruby storms back out front.

“What are you—” I follow her through the door, but she holds a hand up to me and my mouth snaps shut. My eyes widen and a spark of excitement shoots south at her boldness as she leans slightly on the bar top right in front of the guy—his face instantly morphing into a sick smirk.

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