Hard Checked (Ice Kings #4) - Stacey Lynn Page 0,20
“No. You’re not.” As I scold him, he hides a yawn behind his fist and shakes his head. “Go home, Dad. You’re tired. I’ve got this.”
“Hate this for you,” he says and turns, finally facing me.
“What?”
“This.” He swings out an arm. “Hate this for you. This was the bar I wanted because I always wanted a bar. This isn’t you. You’re here because you’re worried about me and you should be scaling Mt. Everest or something equally crazy.”
“Dad. We’ve talked about this.” He scowls at me and to erase it, I quickly add, “I hate the snow and cold.”
His responding eye roll couldn’t be any more exaggerated. “If I wouldn’t have had that scare last year, would you be here?”
I’m not sure what’s brought on this argument we’ve had a half-dozen times since I’ve been back, but between the already difficult night and this, I’m raring for a fight.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I am here, and I like being here. I like being with you. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t.”
“You say that, but—”
“No buts.”
He sighs, thick shoulders heave with the weight of it. “Your momma. You’re so much like your momma. Stubborn to the core, beautiful to the soul. Don’t know what I’d do without you, butterfly.”
My eyes burn, like they do every time my dad mentions my mom. Linda Barnes was beautiful. Taller than me, but I have most of her looks. Sometimes my dad gets a sad smile on his face when he looks at me, and I know as much as he loves me, he still misses her a thousand times more.
“I like being here. And I don’t want to have this conversation again. If, or when, I decide to take off again, or go find something different, I promise you I won’t hesitate.”
“You haven’t seen old friends since you been back.”
That’s mostly because I’ve been busy working. With very little staff, I do most of the late shifts, kicking my dad home before it gets too late and he gets too tired. Tonight’s one of the rare ones where he’s stayed.
“Evan got the friends in the divorce.” I flip my towel in his direction. “Now go home. Stop worrying about me and start worrying about your health. I’m good. Promise.”
His mouth opens like he wants to say something but then his gaze goes to something behind me.
“All right,” he says, finally looking at me again. “I’ll take off. Be safe, though, okay?”
“Always.” I kiss his cheek and turn to the person who caught his attention.
Hotshot. Of course it is.
“What can I get for you?” I ask Sebastian. His gaze follows my father and slowly comes back to the bar. To me. It takes effort to force myself not to react to the quizzical way he’s looking at me, but I manage.
“You’re divorced?”
“Yep.”
I have no problems telling people of my time or my marriage to Evan. We were young. Made the wrong choice. Fixed it when we realized, and to this day, we’re friendly and amicable when we see each other. He’s now engaged again to a woman who teaches pre-school, someone much more suited to his conservative and simple ways.
I could go on and on with Sebastian, telling him all of it, because I haven’t forgotten that his wife has recently left him, but I’m still pissed and hurt at his earlier behavior.
“Need another drink?”
His tongue slips out, sliding along his bottom lip as those beautiful green eyes narrow. Damn him for being so darn good-looking when I’m irritated with him. I have a feeling the look he’s giving me right now has gotten him out of a lot of trouble in his days. Hard to be mad at someone who looks like the world’s cutest and maybe saddest puppy.
“Gigi—”
“Drink, Sebastian. It’s late. Last round. What do you need?”
That cute lip of his curls before it disappears into a thin line.
“One more pitcher for the guys,” he relents, sounding unhappy with me, but whatever.
I need to remember these guys, Sebastian specifically, aren’t my friends. Just because I see them every few weeks doesn’t mean we’re buddies. They’re customers. Good tipping ones.
While I pour up the pitcher for them, I work at plastering on my professional, polite face. I’m feeling pretty good I have it back in place when I face him again.
“Here you go. Enjoy your night.”
“Gigi. I didn’t mean to be a jerk earlier.”
“Okay.” I take the twenty-dollar bill he’s slid onto the counter even though the pitcher’s only ten. “Need