want to work here again,” Karen said. “Your uncle told me. I told him that I don’t want you tending bar here anymore.”
Christina looked at her in astonishment. “What? Why not? Do you already own the place? When did this happen?”
“It wasn’t official until late this afternoon. A few formalities and the deal is closed.” Karen studied Christina with a serious look. “I don’t want you bartending, because I want you in the back office, running the place for me.”
Christina started. “Running it? My uncle runs it …”
“Your uncle wants to retire. He deserves time to relax.” Karen rested her elbow on the back of a tall chair. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to run an elderly man out of town on a rail. Sam told me when I talked to him this evening that he wants to call it quits. He also suggested that you would be the best person for the job. You know everyone in town, you can work with the suppliers, and he says you’re more trustworthy than anyone else. I think he’s right.”
Run the place, work in the office, be the boss. Be responsible for everything. Scary, and at the same time, intriguing. Christina perked up for the first time since her trip to the clinic.
“I’m interested,” Christina said. “Salary?”
Karen gave her a smile. “I think I can make you an offer you’ll like.”
“In that case, sure, let’s talk.”
“It’s not the most glamorous job in the world,” Karen said warningly. “But it will give you good experience, help you grow—who knows, maybe open your own establishment someday. You’ve stayed doing one thing for so long, trying to be the perfect girlfriend for Grant, that you’ve neglected to be the perfect person for yourself.” The problem with Karen was that her observations tended to be exactly on target.
“Don’t start tonight,” Karen said. “Sit down, relax, and enjoy yourself. Observe the bar from this side of things. You deserve a break.”
Well, Christina could stand to try to take her mind off things. She was still upset, and she knew she would be for a very long time, but she did have friends here, people she loved and who loved her. She needed a few minutes of comfort.
She asked Rosie to make her a virgin strawberry daiquiri, and even that innocuous request brought her pain. When the home pregnancy test had been positive, Christina had been relieved that she wasn’t a drinker. Not only had working in a bar made her not want to drink often, but when she and Grant had started trying for a baby, she’d given it up altogether. Just in case.
Christina stuck with abstaining, even through the disappointments, and she stuck to it now. And even that was a reminder of pain.
Then again, she needed to stop being maudlin and get on with things. She needed to learn to deal with it.
She took the daiquiri to an empty table and sat down to try to enjoy the slushy, fruity drink.
It was dance night at the bar. A local band played the latest tunes mixed with classics plus some originals they were working on. The cleared floor filled with couples two-stepping or just moving to the music.
“Drinking alone, little lady?” A tall body filled her vision, and Grant sank into the empty place at her table. “Mind if a cowboy pulls up a chair?”
Christina met his blue gaze, which was quiet, shuttered. She hadn’t seen Grant since he’d left her house the night she’d returned from Dallas, and she’d been grateful to him for not pushing her. She needed time. Grant had called her every day, and they’d talked, but they’d kept their conversations easy, free of drama. Christina appreciated that.
“If you want,” she said, waving her hand at him. “It’s a free country.”
Grant gave her a nod. “I saw a pretty lady sitting here, and I thought—I need to get to know her. Hi, I’m Grant.” He stuck out his hand.
Christina’s heart beat faster as she put her hand into his warm, strong grip. “I’m Christina.”
“Pretty name for a pretty lady. Want to dance?”
“I don’t know. I’m happy sipping my drink.”
“Well, okay, sipping’s good too.”
Grant, who’d kept the handshake lingering, finally released her—slowly—then signaled to the waitress. The woman, who’d worked there for years, said, “Hey, Grant. Let me guess—draft beer?” and headed back to the bar.
“Do you come here a lot?” Christina asked, poking at her pink drink with the skinny straws.
“Grew up in Riverbend.” Grant folded his arms on the table, his