Page 5 of Fallen Dove
I rolled my eyes.They all called me that.I was a good fifteen years younger than their parents, but that didn’t stop them from treating me like some grandpa one slip away from breaking a hip.
Penny looped her arm through Adley’s and steered her toward the kitchen.They disappeared through the swinging door while Penny talked a mile a minute.Adley was listening with that small smile on her face.
Bay grabbed a rag from behind the bar and came over to me.“I don’t see why I need to wipe down all the tables when they’re just going to get messed up in two seconds.”
“Wipe ‘em down, Bay,” I said.
She rolled her eyes like only a twenty-something could and headed for the closest table, dragging the rag with her.
I leaned against the bar, and my eyes trailed the door Adley had just gone through.Fourteen years.A lifetime.And yet here she was, standing in my bar, about to work under my watch.I told myself the rules again: no staring, no close, only work.If I kept my head straight, the day and night would go smooth.
God, I hoped the rest of the day and night went smooth.
Chapter Three
Adley
My feet were on fire.
By the time I dropped my tray on the counter, I was convinced my shoes had turned into medieval torture devices.In Chicago, I sat at a desk most of the day.If I had to move, it was to shuffle to the bathroom, grab a quick lunch, or stand in someone’s office doorway while they explained why my campaign idea wasn’t “aligned with brand strategy.”Tonight was nine straight hours of walking, carrying, smiling, dodging, balancing trays, and fielding dumb questions about how many throws were included in the axe package.
I hadn’t sat down once.Not for a sip of water.Not to breathe.And now all I wanted was to crawl down the basement stairs, collapse onto the pullout couch, and not move my body until at least noon tomorrow.
“So?”Penny’s voice broke into my misery.She leaned on the counter and grinned like she hadn’t just worked the same shift.“How do you feel after your first day?”
I laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze.“I feel like I’m thirty-one and not eighteen anymore.”
Penny laughed and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.“Well, for what it’s worth, you worked like you weren’t a day over twenty.”She reached into her apron and pulled out a wad of cash, thumbing through it.“Just give me a few minutes to split my tips with you.”
I waved her off immediately.“Don’t worry about it tonight.”
She eyed me suspiciously.“Are you sure?It’ll only take a few minutes.”
I was more than sure.Standing a minute longer felt like punishment.“Positive.Keep it.We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
Honestly, these shoes had always been favorites, but they were not built for nine hours of standing.The balls of my feet throbbed, my arches screamed, and my toes begged for parole.
I tugged the apron over my head, and my ponytail came loose with my hair falling forward and blocking my eyes.I shoved it back just in time to hear the kitchen door swing open.
And there he was.
Mason.
I froze; hair still caught in my fingers.I’d spent the entire night successfully avoiding him.If I was at the pool tables, he was in the kitchen.If I was running drinks to the cornhole boards, he was in the back hallway.We were like magnets flipped the wrong way, close, but never touching.I’d felt him, though.His presence settled over the room even when I couldn’t see him, like he was there without beingthere there.
And now he was right in front of me.
“How was your first night?”he asked.His voice was steady but his eyes sharp on me.
“She did good,” Penny jumped in before I could answer.She pulled a tiny notebook from her apron pocket.“Only had two guys be jerks, and she shut them down before they could get more than five words out.”
I rolled my eyes.“I lived in Chicago for fourteen years.The guys there are much worse than the ones in Weston.”
Mason’s gaze never wavered, like he was measuring more than my words.
“I couldn’t imagine living in Chicago,” Calla said with flipped barstools at the other end of the bar.“All those people.No, thank you.”
“You get used to it,” I said.Chicago had been crowded, overwhelming, but impersonal.Nobody cared who I was, and I didn’t care about them.We were all just rats on the same wheel.
