Page 7 of Winter Ends
“My in-laws are coming in tonight.”
I jolted from my thoughts to stare at Chase. “Since when did you and Nathan get married?”
He laughed, picking up a tray from behind the bar and lining up some drinks on it. “We didn’t. Don’t plan on it. Doesn’t mean I know what the hell to call them.”
Fair point.
“So, what do you want me to do about it?”
Chase sighed, adjusting the tray to make sure the drinks didn’t slide off. “I don’t know. Send them something nice? I already know that Mrs. Grant loves me, but it never hurts to win her over a little extra. Nate had to work late tonight as well, so I’m hoping to gloss over the fact that he’ll be missing from their family dinner.”
Ah, the trouble with pleasing someone else’s family. I enjoyed sleeping around, though now that I was creeping closer to twenty-six, Mom and Dad had hinted at me settling down. I didn’t understand the rush. If it was meant to be, I’d find the right person. It just hadn’t happened yet.
“Not a problem. What are we going to do about the delinquent?”
Chase shoved my shoulder. “Would you stop calling Aiden that?”
“What? It’s not like I can serve him shit here at the restaurant.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m saying send something nice to his parents.”
I’d been teasing Nathan’s brother for a few weeks now. Aiden had been hanging out with us ever since I’d met their group, but it never occurred to me he was only eighteen. Nineteen by the end of the month, if I remember correctly.
That’s when the idea hit me. It all hinged on whether the Grant family would be okay with me stealing their baby boy away for his birthday, but it wasn’t like nineteen was that big of a deal. He was legally an adult, but not yet old enough to drink. It hadn’t stopped him at any of our gatherings, thus my nickname for him as the delinquent.
“I smell a party coming on.”
Chase’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing as he took the orders to the dining room.
“You think everything is a party.”
The words were muttered so softly that I almost didn’t hear them. When I turned, Daniel was standing behind me stocking beers in the fridge.
“What’s wrong with having a good time?”
That icy stare turned in my direction. It was enough to freeze me in place. Damn. Daniel had a way of entrancing me with one look. Outside of him being the biggest mystery I wanted to solve, the guy was fucking attractive. I wanted to pick him apart in more ways than one. Maybe see what was beneath all that hostility. Maybe see what it was like for him to take it out on me in other ways.
I needed to derail that thought process before I popped a boner at work. It was inappropriate. This dude hated my guts, though I still didn’t understand why. Would he join us if I got everyone together to celebrate Aiden?
The evening progressed in a blur. I didn’t have time to think about Daniel and his cold stares. Customers lined the bar non-stop demanding my attention. My hands grabbed for bottles faster than I could remember how to make the damn cocktails I was pouring. Gin and tonic, Sazerac, Whiskey Sour, shots of tequila when Andrew and Brandon came in…
Before I knew it, Chase waved me down. Sweat beaded my brow, and I wiped it with a towel as I approached where he stood.
“The Grants are here. I sat them at table twelve. It was the least crazy and the closest to my section that I could still help them without stepping on toes. Do you have something I can take them?”
He looked so frazzled, clearly feeling the evening as much as I was. To my dismay, when I looked toward Daniel, he didn’t look out of his element at all. He breezed through drink orders, placing glass after glass on the bar top. He wasn’t even sweating. What the hell was that?
“Is it all right if I take it out to them?”
Chase looked taken aback. He looked around at the crowd around the bar, then back at me. “Are you sure? It’s sort of busy over here.”
One more look at Daniel and I kind of wanted to see how he’d handle the pressure if I left him alone for a few minutes. “I think it’ll be fine.”
Without a second thought, Chase nodded and motioned toward table twelve. I grabbed a bottle of our more expensive Merlot and headed toward the table, armed with a bottle opener. Even if Mrs. Grant wasn’t a fan, she’d like this stuff. Most people did.
“Good evening,” I said as I approached the table. Nathan’s mom smiled up at me as I presented the bottle of wine. “I was told you might enjoy some special refreshments. Please allow me, this is on the house.”
Mrs. Grant waved her hand in front of her face. “None of that. We can pay for it.”
