start you a tab.” Baby had another boilermaker in his hand a few seconds later. He took this one at a slightly less reckless pace. There wasn’t much point in getting rip-roaring drunk. Bandits might not be his normal hangout, but most of the people in here, including Josh, still knew who Baby was. If he got shit-faced, somebody was going to call Finn, Zac, Gavin, or any of the Linear guys to come get him.
That was the problem with small town life. Everyone always had your back, whether you wanted them to or not.
Plus, drunk wasn’t going to change the fact that he might have lost his chance to own the Oak Creek Garage. All he needed was to finish these three classes, and he’d have his bachelor’s degree. But he was down to his final semester to pass them all. If he hadn’t been able to complete them individually, how the hell could he do them all in one semester?
Baby ran his fingers through his hair. What had Pop Owens been thinking with that fucking will? Requiring Baby to get a college degree in seven years in order to receive ownership of the garage?
He knew why. Because Pop Owens had believed Baby could get the degree. He had wanted to push Baby to be the best version of himself.
He took a sip of his drink. His best wasn’t going to be enough.
When Baby didn’t complete his degree, Oak Creek Auto would go up for sale. Nation Value Automotive would be first in line to buy it, offering way more money than Baby could.
Baby wouldn’t have to buy it at all if he could finish those damned college classes. And he’d do that if—
“You look like you need something stronger.” Josh walked by on his way to deliver two beers to the couple at the end of the bar.
Baby took another sip. “I’m not much interested in working for Nation Value Automotive.”
Josh’s brows furrowed. “Nation Value moving into Oak Creek?”
“Maybe,” Baby muttered. “Because I’m a dumbass.”
Josh wisely moved on to some other customers. Baby sighed and turned to the side, leaning his elbow back on the bar so he could see what was going on around him.
Why the hell was he here?
There were people he could talk to, but he didn’t want to talk. There were a few guys playing darts he could probably join. A few others playing pool in the other corner, along with a couple of women he knew from town. Now that the beat had picked back up, there was a group of women dancing, a couple of whom were making no qualms about trying to get Baby’s attention and get him out on the dance floor with them. Normally he would join, but not tonight.
He finished his drink slowly, hoping it might contain the answers he was seeking. Some way to get himself out of this.
Big surprise, it didn’t.
It had been a mistake coming here, he finally admitted. He signaled Josh so he could pay his tab. There was nothing here for him. He’d hang out another thirty minutes or so to make sure he was sober enough to drive. Then he’d go home—where he should’ve stayed in the first place. He’d get a good night’s sleep, let his body recover from what he’d put it through during WAR.
He leaned back to slide his glass toward the bar and that’s when he saw her.
Quinn, the waitress.
He hadn’t seen her for nearly a week, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her. He’d spent quite a bit of time wondering if she’d gotten any better at waiting tables since that god-awful first day.
But hell, if she didn’t look just as out of place in the small corner booth here as she had looked waiting tables at the Eagle’s Nest.
Was she still wearing those endearingly practical low-heeled shoes? Probably. They’d undoubtably go well with the tailored black trousers and tasteful cream blouse she was wearing. Her hair was still up in that tight bun—pulled so severely, he had to wonder if it hurt her head.
It made him feel a little perverted, but lying in his sleeping bag at night on the race, it had been thoughts of easing her brown hair out of that bun, letting it fall down her back, and running his fingers through it over and over that had captured his thoughts.
Okay, and maybe a little more once he got that hair down from the bun.