Page 69 of Small Town Firsts
Her hand slid up my chest before she cupped my jaw. The kiss was hot and left me a little scrambled. She pushed me away by the face. “Take a shower and maybe you’ll get back in my bed.”
With that she turned on her heel and sashayed back into the taproom.
“Oh, I’ll be getting back in your bed, Sunshine. Count on it.”
SEVENTEEN
KIRA
I WANTED THE BEST
I glanced at my watch.As usual, Ronan threw off my schedule. However, I did take five minutes to scarf down the lunch he brought me. And okay, that was a little thoughtful.
And I wouldn’t be disappointed I didn’t see him tonight, dammit.
Nope.
Not at all.
But the buzz under my skin from our quick semi-make out in the storeroom pushed me through another three interviews. Two of which were very promising.
“Hey, Key there’s a very purple Jeep pulling up outside.”
My palms instantly tingled. “Thanks, Annette.”
I had a feeling that was Lennon. Her purple Jeep was often featured in her social media posts. The buzz from Ronan now transformed into a hum of nerves.
Annette backed away from the double doors and met me at the bar. She was the first person I’d hired on as part of the permanent staff. She’d manned the old taproom shack during concerts and bummed around Happy Acres, jumping from the bakery to covering weddings—pretty much wherever Laverneneeded her. She was tired of juggling jobs and wanted a steady schedule where she could learn the business side of things.
We’d both been at the orchard for over a decade and worked well together.
“Did I see Ronan stop in?”
I willed my face not to flush. “Yeah. Can you put a case of the Bourbon Barrel cider, a bottle of the Brothers Bourbon, and two bottles of moonshine on Ronan’s account? He’s got a friend in town, and I think they’re going to get stupid with it.”
“Is he as hot as Ronan?”
“I have no idea.” I slipped off my heels to flex my feet on the soft cushioned mat behind the bar. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. One Viking was enough of a problem as far as I was concerned. “I don’t think it was an expected visit. He’ll be in tomorrow for the chef interviews.”
“Damn. I do enjoy watching him wrestle with those big buckets.”
“You like watching any guy with shoulders.”
“That’s a fact.” She grinned and fixed her messy bun. The door opened and she turned, leaning against the bar with her arms folded. “Think your appointment has finally gotten out of her vehicle.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit. None of us will have a chance with any male if she gets a job.”
I hurriedly stepped back into my shoes and walked around the walnut bar. I’d waited until the final installation of the bar and the first liquor delivery to do these interviews.
Lennon Hathaway had a compact, curvy body packed in jet black jeans with holes at the knees. A cropped black T-shirt showed off her strict yoga and Pilates regimen. This woman definitely didn’t have any extra around the middle like I did. She wore flat sandals in deference to the heat and her magenta and black hair was scraped back into a high ponytail.
Not exactly interview attire, but she walked in with her shoulders back and chin up. She knew the interview was more formality and her sizing me and mine up. I looked through her résumé on her website before contacting her for a meeting. She’d had an impressive list of awards, high end bars she’d guest starred at for events, the celebrity parties she’d run, and of course her Bar Expo awards, save for last year when I’d stolen her title.
I met her with an equal level of alpha energy. I may want her for her cachet to build up our reputation, but she would not be walking all over me.
I held out my hand. “Hi, I’m Kira Webb.”
She glanced at my hand and arched a brow. “I know who you are.”
I continued to hold my hand out and met her glacial stare with a warm smile. “And I know who you are. Lennon Hathaway, flair artist, mixologist, six-time Bar Expo champion, should I go on?”
