the bar in front of me, which I drink gratefully. “Thanks.” I want to ask about a hundred questions at once, but what comes out is, “How in the hell did you get Hank to let you behind his bar?” My voice is deep and rough, nothing I can do about that, but the growl makes it sound accusatory. Maybe unconsciously, I mean for it to be because curiosity about her sudden appearance is eating me up inside.
She flinches, dark lashes fluttering a little too fast behind those owl-like lenses.
What the hell, man? Fix it.
I flash the smile that’s gotten me out of trouble for most of my life and am rewarded with a hesitant, slow-motion version of one of her soft smiles.
“Right place, right time, I guess,” she answers without giving anything away.
A voice calls out ‘bartender’, and she moves away without another word but gives me the first view of her lower half. She’s wearing denim shorts that sit low on her hips, exposing a small sliver of her midriff I’d like to trace with my tongue. Her legs are shapely and tan, ending in black and white Nikes that have seen better days.
I’m lost in every curve, tracing the line of the nape of her neck with my eyes, and flexing my fingers with the urge to reach out and drag her back to me. I want more of her—her words, her smiles—and maybe I can get one of those laughs of my very own.
Richard slides over next to me, lids half-lowered, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s tipsy or if he’s checking me out. “What’re your intentions with our Willow?”
“Our Willow?” I snap. For someone I’ve never seen before, she seems to have crawled under everyone’s skin pretty damn fast—mine, Olivia’s, Richard’s, and Hank’s. My Spidey senses start tingling in warning. Or maybe it’s jealousy.
His lips quirk in amusement and he drawls out, “That’s what I thought. You wanna know what I know?”
I blink slowly, not sure I like where this conversation is going. I mean, yeah, of course I want to know, but there’s a part of me that wants her to tell me. But given how she walked off without a care, maybe a little intel would do me good.
I tell myself that I’m looking out for Hank, because maybe he’s been taken in by her sweet, innocent looks too. Deep down, I know it’s for my own personal satisfaction. Nobody else needs to know that, though, so I shrug casually, feigning indifference.
“All right, I’ll bite. Whatcha got?”
Richard takes a long, leisurely sip of his beer, delighting in the fact that I’m on his hook. Desperately twisting and turning in anticipation on it, in fact. “Willow Parker, Hank’s niece, city girl. Showed up a couple of weeks ago as a surprise. Said she needed, and I quote, ‘a change.’ She’s a photographer of some sort, always snapping away on her phone, though I saw her with one of them big, fancy digital ones once. Thing was nearly as big as she is. And she’s a damn good bartender.” He winks as if he told me all her deep, dark secrets. “Be good to her or Hank’ll have your hide, and I’ll be backing him up.” He moves back to his own barstool several seats away.
Actually, there is some good information in what he shared, answering at least the first of my questions—why the hell Hank had let her behind the bar. If she’s a relative, it makes sense that he’d trust her. Why didn’t she just say so?
Which leaves me to my second question . . . what’s she doing later tonight? Because I’d like to get to know her better.
Maybe I can do something with Richard’s information. I give him a nod of appreciation and sip at my water, watching and waiting impatiently for her to come my way. The tension in my body rises with every customer she talks to, every lift of her lips for someone else, making it difficult to keep my ass on this stool. I want to stride right behind the bar and demand her attention again.
Back and forth she goes, and after a few trips up and down the bar, I realize she’s intentionally avoiding me. She’s not even looking my way, skipping over my barstool as she scans customers.
Fuck that. But I’ve got enough respect for Hank to not pass into the no-man zone of his behind-bar space. If I did, I would definitely