tone to his usual retort.
The big money scenario unfolds a tad differently than before, which was encouraging someone to buy a bottle. Now, shots are a bar manager’s cream and sugar.
Standing before the Scot, I pour and smile. My eyes roam over his angular jaw and his thick bevy of dark curls. He looks up and catches me staring. It’s all part of the process.
“Ye have gorgeous eyes, lassie,” he says, and I know his choice of lassie as opposed to lass is meant to be respectful and not a line. “I’d love for ye to tell me about Scotland through yer eyes.”
Hmmm. I stand corrected. I cock a brow.
He runs his thumb across a wedding band, and my eyebrow lifts.
“Isn’t a day that goes by that I dinna miss my bonny Mary.”
“May she rest in peace.” I settle across from Mr. Big Money. He drinks. I talk, and I pour some more, keeping a running tab of his shots.
After a while, he says, “What I wouldn’t do for a frothy pint.”
“Now, you’re speaking my language. Or my husband’s rather.”
“Ye said the two of ya return to his home biannually?” When I nod, he continues. “With running the business, I haven’t a moment to wink when wabbit. Can’t mind the last time I visited home. Nae other place brews a pint so good.”
“I know, I . . .” Damn, now I feel like I’m double gaming him. The guy has already bought the equivalent of two blue label bottles.
He cocks a brow.
I glance back at Michie, who never offered to feature my draft. “I brew my own. In the beginning, my husband was very stern. Otherwise, Leith’s not that type of guy, but botch a brew, and he calls mutiny.”
“So?”
“I’m tinkering a bit, enjoying the craft.” I shrug.
The older man claps his hands together. “Ye seem modest, hen. Ye know, during our entire chat, I never got yer name. They call me Edward Dorsey.”
There’s a gold nugget ring on his finger when I shake his firm hand. “Nice to meet you, Edward. I’m Chevelle MacKenzie.”
Edward doesn’t give any inclination that my last name has been a source of fear or contention.
While we chat, I press the away button on my cell phone, sight unseen. When the caller tries again, the edges of my lips furrow upward. “Sorry, I should take this.”
Edward nods.
Eager to answer, I power walk toward the rear of the bar. Since the calls keep coming in succession, I take two steps out the back door. I answer Camdyn on the third ring.
“Hey, Cam, is everything okay?”
“I’m so sorry to call—”
“Don’t apologize. I signed you up for babysitting duty without even asking.”
“Mia’s woke, crying. Says she wants you or Fruit Loops.”
“Dammit, she ate the last bowl this morning.” I groan. “Give Mia the phone so that I can threaten her.”
“Can’t do that. I’m her favorite uncle. She won’t sprout warts like a gremlin if I feed her this late, right? I’ll Instacart it.”
Amused, I reply, “You guys are so wrapped around her tiny pinkie, it’s a shame. Yeah, Instacart if you can. When it gets there, just give her five Fruit Loops. No more.”
“Five? If we’re being honest here, Mia’ll weasel me out of at least two bowls.” He begins to whisper, “I don’t have it in me to spank her.”
“Threaten to pop her hand.”
“But her hands are so—”
“Save it. Leith has already told me. Mia uses those little hands to sneak around all the time. I’m on my way. I’ll probably arrive when the sugar rush kicks in. Bye.”
When I turn around, Michie leans against the door, a half-smile on his attractive face.
“Don’t start no shit with me. Did I even get a tip after that lengthy therapy sesh?”
The smile blossoms across his full lips. “I’m the one who should be reprimanding you, Chevelle—”
“First of all, I’m a grown-ass woman. Second, I’m a mother.”
“I get it, damn.” He places an envelope in my hand. “Trouble brewing in paradise?”
“No,” I snap, sauntering inside the breakroom. “I’m happy. Leith’s happy. We’re all elated.”
Ignoring me, he says in a low pitch, “Why, oh why didn’t I steal you from him when you broke up years ago?”
“Michie, look on the wall. What does it say beneath, and I quote, ‘No cellphone out on the floor’? ”
His chuckle is a mellow, aged bourbon. “ ‘No workplace romances on or off the floor.’ I distinctly recall your attempt to hawk Justice off on me the other night.”
“I’m heading home.” I pat the envelope