Page 41 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
Spinning around in his arms, her eyes met his. Her fingers started playing with one of the buttons on his flannel. “What will they be ordering?”
He knew he should be putting distance between them. But when she looked at him like that, all smiles and possibilities, being anything but all-in with her seemed impossible. He had to try, though. He had to keep his head.
Stepping back, he waved a hand Vanna White-style over the tap handles. “For you, they will be ordering beer.”
“Aw, come on. Only beer?”
He threw a hand over his heart, his mouth popping open. “Did you just say ‘only beer?’ In a bar? In Montana?”
“Fine,” she said, pouting. “I’ll pour beer. But let it be known that I’m feeling extremely creatively stifled.”
He couldn’t help but smile at her. A big dopey one. “Duly noted.”
“See you two lovebirds later,” Ryan said, turning a cute moment awkward while exiting the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Are you coming back to help or what?” Trig shouted after him, noticing the pool starting to empty out. It would be bedlam soon.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Ryan shouted back.
Shaking her head at Ryan’s back, she said, “He really is hitting on a sick, engaged woman, isn’t he?”
Trig shrugged. “Dawn’s a redhead. It’s like his kryptonite.”
The bell above the bar door had jingled when Ryan left, and now it jangled when Janice and her wife Natalie walked in.
“Oh god. Here they come,” Kissie whispered, wide-eyed.
“Are you ready for this?”
“Not even close.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this. And I’ll make you a promise.”
“What’s that?” she asked, watching the door warily as more people crowded in.
“If anyone here spits on your dress, they’ll have me to answer to.”
* * *
Trig pulledout the hand-held broom from under the sink again and got to work. It was only the third glass she’d dropped all afternoon which, considering how busy they’d been over the last four hours, was pretty impressive.
“Shit, sorry,” she said while he cleaned. She grabbed another glass, filled it with beer, and got this one to Kathleen without dropping it.
“Don’t be,” Trig replied.
Ryan had been gone forever taking the soup to Dawn, and if Kissie hadn’t agreed to help him, he would have been swamped. Instead, he was having the time of his life.
He’d rarely let himself imagine having a partner working with him at Mystic, knowing the chances of him ever finding a woman interested in slinging beer and smelling like sulfur all day were slim to none. But,man, it was fun having her by his side.
She’d been snapping pictures of the bar all day, chatting up the locals, and in some act of sorcery, she’d convinced Kathleen to scribble down the recipe for her world-famous cream cheese frosting.
“Salt is the key,” Kathleen said. “Brings out the sweetness.”
Billy’s outraged expression had Trig cackling. “Why are you giving away our secrets, woman?”
“Don’t be daft,” Kathleen said, pinching Billy’s arm. “She won’t go spreadin’ it around, will ye, Kissie?”
“I will take this recipe to the grave. You have my word.” After snapping their picture, the couple putting their bickering aside long enough to cuddle up close for the shot, Kissie asked, “So, Kathleen. How in the heck did Billy convince you to move all the way to Twin Hearts?”
