Page 24 of Second First Kiss

You driving? More than one, you’re done

If you see Bigfoot, buy him a beer

The last one was definitely Nolan. The guy might be an armed-to-the-teeth hall monitor, but he was quick with his words. In fact, some might call him verbally charming. Kat was not one of those someones.

“I think you’re forgetting the golden rule,” Kat said, grabbing a Sharpie from behind the register. She hoisted herself up on the bar, which drew catcalls, and added her own rule.

Golden Rule: Bartender is always right.

She turned to the crowd and hollered, “Anyone have a problem with that?”

“As long as the next round’s on the house,” Stan, a regular, said from a booth in the back, and the bar broke out in applause and boisterous hollers.

“You offering to buy?” Kat asked. Stan shook his head vehemently. “Didn’t think so.”

“I’ll buy the next round,” R. J. said, his voice dripping with sleaze, then patted his lap. “If you come sit that pretty ass right over here and share a beer with me.”

Kat knew people liked her as much as they feared her, but not a single peep came up from the crowd. Not even from Eli, who was supposed to be the enforcer.

“That’s a hard pass,” Kat said, knowing he was baiting her. And damn, she wanted to take the bait.

“Then how about you?” R. J. said and grabbed Lena’s arm.

Lena was a new server. Freshly twenty-one and freshly out of college. It was clear this was her first job, because she held the record for the most broken beer mugs in her first week. But she was sweet and tiny. Stick-her-in-your-pocket tiny.

Now, at five seven, Kat could hold her own, but compared to R. J.’s height and steroid-induced bulk, she was no match for him. But that hadn’t stopped her before.

“Rule number two, R. J.,” Kat warned.

But instead of letting Lena go, he pulled her onto his lap. Lena gasped with fear. R. J. tightened his grip. Kat saw red. She knew what it felt like to have someone put their hands on you and she’d be damned if she let it happen to another woman.

Not on her watch.

Sure, Eli rose in a show of authority, but Kat, who was still standing on the bar, took off in a dead sprint. Twenty steps and a few dodged beer bottles left ample time for the anger and fury to reach dangerous levels. Thankfully she had the perfect target to unpack her crap day.

Kat reached the end of the bar and hopped down, getting in R. J.’s face. “You have until the count of three to let her go,” she said.

R. J. stood until he was towering over Kat, his hand still on Lena. “Or what?”

“Or the entire bar is going to see you get your ass kicked by a girl.”

“Let her go, man,” one of R. J.’s friends said, but R. J. was already a six-pack into the night. And he was a mean drunk. Just like Kat’s mom.

“We’re just having fun,” R. J. said. “Aren’t we, Lena.”

“Read the room, buddy, she doesn’t want to wait on you, let alone talk with you.”

Finally R. J. let go of Lena, who scrambled away. R. J. sat back down and, with a smile, said, “You were saying?”

Rage fisted her hands and they clenched and unclenched several times. Then she took a deep breath, remembered that he was a customer and that she didn’t need another night at the jailhouse on her record. “You’re not worth it.”

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