Page 72 of What About Us
On one hand, it’s a lot for a kid his age with two kids and one on the way. But this bar is a staple in Timber Forge, and I’ve seen his books. Not recently, but I know he brings in a good amount, especially in the summermonths. It’s a good living and it’d be a shame for him to have to give it up if he loves it. I would know.
“It is,” he says, and then he’s quiet for a few beats. “So, that’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you.”
I nod. “I’ll help where I can. You just let me know what you need, and I’ll see what I can do.”
For the next hour, Trevor fills me in on everything. He’s making a good living, just as I suspected, but he needs at least a month off when the baby comes. Tanya wants to have the baby in Helena so she’s closer to her parents, and leaving the kids behind with Trevor isn’t something either of them wants to do. She’s only got a couple of weeks left, so she wants to go as soon as possible.
“I just need someone during the day to come in and open things up, wait for deliveries, change and set kegs. You know, all the normal shit. Weekends are the busiest, obviously. So, occasionally, I’d need help there, in addition to the bartender on shift and the waitresses.”
“So, you basically need me to be you,” I say with a nod.
“Exactly,” he says and tips back his glass, finishing off his second Coke. He glances in my direction. “And you can run things how you like. Scheduling and all that is pretty easy, since there’s only a handful of us. But as far as when you come in and whatever, I’m sure you’ll have a system.”
He’s right, I would. I nod and look around. I could see myself here, on the other side of the bar. In fact, it excites me. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Ever since I knew I’d have to make a change for Paige—and that meant sacrificing my bar—it hadn’t felt the same when I was there. Almost like, I couldn’t let myself enjoy it anymore because I knew I was leaving it all behind.
“How long you thinking?”
He shakes his head and lets out another sigh. “At least a couple of months?” He shrugs. “That will give us time to figure out if Helena isa permanent thing, or if Tanya’s just worried about the load of adding another kid.”
He doesn’t look hopeful. Maybe it’s selling the bar, or maybe it’s having nothing to do that’s just mine anymore, but my gut tells me this could be a good thing for me. It’ll get me out of the house and keep my mind and hands occupied. And since it’s temporary, and something I could do with my eyes closed, I’d have some time to just breathe.
“All right,” I say, and Trevor’s head comes up, I catch the hopeful glint in his eyes, even when I know he’s sad to leave it in my hands for the time being.
“You sure, man? I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“To be completely honest with you, Trevor, I’m glad as hell I can help. I’ve been wondering how much longer I can shovel horse shit for Hank or be a tool boy for Hutch.” I laugh and so does he. “You’re actually doing me a favor.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Hudson. I appreciate it.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll be right back, and we can talk compensation.” When he stands up and takes off down the hallway, it seems like a weight has lifted off him. His shoulders are relaxed away from his ears, and he’s got an easiness to his gate that wasn’t there before.
Chapter 24
Finnley
I’m in my roomwhen he and Paige come home. I stand at the door; ear pressed against it like some kind of weirdo. I hear their footsteps on the stairs, her closing her bedroom door behind her and then the faint sound of the shower kicking on in Hudson’s room. I take my chance to sneak downstairs. I’m being ridiculous, but I can’t help it. I don’t know what to say to him. In the kitchen, there are grocery bags on the counter and the oven is preheating.
Standing at the kitchen sink, I feel him before I see him. That’s been happening a lot lately, and I can’t explain it. It’s as if his body has a pull on mine, like a tractor beam from one of those cheesyStar Trekmovies Wrenley’s granddad used to watch when we were kids.
He dumps something on a baking sheet behind me and sticks it in the oven. “You’re ignoring me,” he says, before leaning on the sink next to me, arms crossed over his bare chest.
I almost groan. Is this man trying to kill me?
He smells incredible, all woodsy and fresh. From the corner of my eye, I can see his hair is damp from the shower. Somehow, I manage to not let my eyes trail over all that bare skin.
I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heat when he drops his hands to the counter, curling his fingertips around it. The movement makes the veins in his arms stand out and my mind flashes on an image of him gripping his cock. That “V” right above the waistband of his gray fucking sweatpants taunts me. By some miracle, I force my eyes to not drop any lower and blink away.
“I’m not.”
He huffs out a breath. “Well, you’re not talking to me.”
“I don’t have anything to say.” I shrug, sure he can hear my heart pounding in my ears. It’s like my pulse can’t help but kick up around him. He’s standing so close that his elbow brushes my bare arm, making me shiver.
I see him tilt his head in my periphery. “You always have something to say.” When I don’t look up from the pan I’ve been scrubbing the Teflon off for the last five minutes, he asks, “Are you pissed at me?
My scrubbing increases. Pissed? No. Turned on? One-million percent. Annoyed that I’m turned on? Absolutely. I shouldn’t be panting over my best friend.
