Page 32 of Where Our Turn Begins (Arrow Creek 4)

The steady streamof customers requires me to keep post behind the main bar on the first floor. When the pace picks up on weekend nights, I like to weave through the tables to observe the mingling patrons. Cameras assist in keeping my customers safe, but nothing beats the aid of a watchful eye. Tonight, with the door nearly revolving and down a server, I’m stuck mixing drinks. I meant to meet Caiti here at seven, but I won’t have much time to chat by the looks of things.

A bachelorette party wanders in with multi-colored flashing favors and penis whistles blowing a rowdy tune. They push their way into the far corner, dispersing the few people waiting for drinks there as if they intend to stay a while. I don’t bother with a fake smile intended to woo a tip. My bar is the only one in town hospitable enough for this type of crowd.

“What can I get you ladies?” My usual dour appearance seems to attract more than one appreciative glance.

“Hey, handsome. Do you offer body shots? Preferably off you?” the short brunette with the maid-of-honor sash shamelessly requests.

I offer a brief quirk of my mouth. “Sorry, ladies. Not from me. But if you want to travel downstairs, the bartender might be more than willing to set you up.” Damien would work these ladies into a tizzy with his outgoing persona and washboard abs. As long as he’s not too busy serving drinks, I’m sure he’ll find a way to oblige. The man will use just about any excuse to take off his shirt, seeing as he used to work at a strip club in Logansville before circumstances brought him here. I lean in closer. “I hear he has an eight-pack.”

Sighs, squeals, and giggles accompany the large group across the room. I chuckle to myself, thinking of the mess I sent downstairs, immediately followed by the thought of Cami, Kiersten, Evie, and Caiti on their own bachelorette party escapades later this month. Mental reminder to check with the guys on a strategy because we all can’t pull babysitting duty that night.

The group of rowdy girls clears the entrance, leaving the direction of my gaze wide open to see her. As if I could miss the raven-haired beauty. I clocked her the first time she sat at a table by the window next to another man. As much as it fucks me to think of it now, I shamelessly couldn’t take my eyes off her, even though the husband she lost only a few days later was at her side.

Just like all those years ago, I’m drawn to her as the rest of the bar melts into the background. My focus zeros in on tight black jeans, a direct contradiction to the sweats she promised to wear. Following her long, lean legs, I discover the silky silver cami encasing her torso. A far cry from a hot mess. She’s fucking beautiful.

The moment she spots me, the tension melts away. Her shoulders relax away from her ears, and she drops her crossed arms to hang loosely at her sides. I’m shocked silly at the illuminating smile that graces her face. I half expected her to stomp down here with a sexy-as-hell grumpy attitude and her hair in a messy bun. Either version I’d take in a heartbeat. But why all the effort if she vaguely hinted that it wasn’t worth one?

I flick two fingers in greeting, then direct them at the stool the bachelorette group vacated. She saunters over with an enigmatic smirk, oblivious to the turn of male heads all across the room.

She plants both palms on the counter and hoists herself up. “Sorry, I’m late. I got to chatting with Evie.”

I dry my hands with a white towel. “Not a problem. We’ve been busy tonight.”

“It appears so.” She bounces her gaze around the room.

“What are you having tonight?”

She runs her tongue across her bottom lip and tips her eyes to the side in contemplation. “How about a vodka soda?”

My stomach bottoms out. The drink order is the exact same as the night we spent together. Not that it’s unusual. I just haven’t been able to make the drink since without recalling the vision of her sipping the clear cocktail on my couch. “Coming right up.”

“I’m guessing you can’t join me while on the job.”

I want to kiss the pout from her plump lips. “Unfortunately not tonight, Mama.”

I swear I catch her shiver when I set down her finished drink on a napkin.

“Thanks.” She picks up the clear glass to sip straight from the rim.

“That bad?”

“What?” Caiti lowers the drink halfway before drawing a little more liquid into her mouth.

“Your job.” I tease. “You might want to take it easy.”

She digs in her purse without answer, proudly waving a stack of bills she produces. “You can’t water down my drinks tonight, sir. I’m a paying customer.”

I lean over my elbows on the bar. “Do I need to ask our babysitters to stay overnight so we can go somewhere else?”

The surprise in her dark irises holds a tinge of want. “I…no…I just meant I can handle my alcohol.”

A customer approaching forces me away from her. “I’m just teasing, Mama.”

“Can I get a whiskey and Coke?” He tosses a few bills on the counter.

“Sure thing.”

I give her my shoulder while I fill the newcomer’s order, keeping a line of sight in case someone decides to harass her. Not that it’s any of my business. If she’s looking to flirt with a stranger, who am I to stop her? She’s the mother of my kid, not the woman wearing my ring on her finger.

That doesn’t mean I won’t keep a close watch as the hungry wolves behind her decide the best way to descend. I fill this guy’s drink with record speed and send him on his way. When I fixate on her once again, I want to throw her over my shoulder and keep her hidden from the lecherous stares.

She sways a hypnotic beat on the stool in time to the music. With closed eyes, the black straw pokes between red, pillowed lips. The way her tank top clings to her breasts is damn near indecent. She’s the picture of a carefree woman living in the moment. Then her eyes open, and catching my attention, she startles. She sets her drink on the bar so hard some liquid sloshes over the side.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t had a night out like this in—”

“Three years,” I guess with a throaty growl. “And don’t apologize.”

Her fingers glide through the condensation on the glass. “I didn’t trust anyone enough to babysit, and I didn’t have any friends back home.”

The confession sits like a lead weight in my gut. All this time, she could have had me. She could have had help. My captain obvious hat hangs on a rack for the evening. Pointing out what she already knows won’t change the past.

Her hand banishes her regrets like dust motes in the air. “Never mind that. I’m here now, and this drink is delicious.”

“Plenty more where that came from. Under one condition.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “What’s that?”

“You only leave with me.” I level my gaze with a seriousness I feel down to the very cells that make me. “Either together after I close, or I walk you upstairs, but you aren’t going home with anyone else.”

The shock expresses itself through her half-open mouth and a rising blush tinting her cheeks. She snaps her jaw closed and twirls the ice in her glass with the straw. “Let’s say I don’t agree with your little demand. Then what happens?”

“I dare you to try to make it out that door.”

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