Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,50

was on a mission. I wondered if he’d try to take me into his arms and kiss me—and what I’d do if he did—but he stopped just short of me. “Are you in your usual section?”

I could lie to him, but I wasn’t fifteen and I didn’t want to play games. “Yes.”

He gave me a brisk nod, then headed to the bar and slipped onto a stool next to Jerry. The bar was Max’s territory.

What the hell?

Ruth gave me a questioning look, which was when I realized I still hadn’t told her about our breakup. My heart ached at the thought.

More people came in, and while Fridays were always busy, the place wasn’t usually this packed. Even so, I noticed right away when a woman I’d never seen at Max’s walked in through the door.

Greta Hightower, wearing a pair of jeans and a thick gray sweater with no coat, made her way to the half-filled bar, taking an open seat a few stools down from Wyatt and slightly to the side of the beer taps.

Max’s eyes practically popped out of his head. I nearly laughed, but I prayed she wasn’t there to see him. There was only one way to find out.

When I slid behind the counter to talk to Max, he was setting beers in front of a couple at the far end of the bar, but he kept sneaking glances at Greta. I leaned into his ear and asked, “Is that the infamous Greta?”

He turned to me in surprise. “Yeah.”

“Tell me the truth, Max. Do you want to see her again or not?”

“I…uh…” he sputtered.

“Undecided?”

He was silent for a moment before he softly said, “Yeah, I’d like to see her again, but I messed everything up.”

I pulled my notepad from my apron and handed it to him. “Cover my section.”

“I can’t do that!” he protested, sliding back a step and refusing to take it.

“Bullshit. Cover my section. I’ll see how agreeable she is to goin’ on an actual date with you that doesn’t involve moonshine and skinny dippin’.”

He scowled, but he snatched the order pad from my hand and pointed to the stack of tickets on the counter. “Most of the orders are beers. You can handle the shots, but some stuck-up fool thinks we’re a fancy night club and ordered an old-fashioned. You know how to make one of those?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. Make it up as you go.” With that, he headed out onto the floor.

I could feel Wyatt’s eyes watching me, and a quick glance in his direction confirmed it. Heat washed through my body, but I told myself that he was like strawberry shortcake: utterly delicious and, courtesy of my strawberry allergy, guaranteed to give me hives.

Just because something tasted good didn’t mean it was good for me.

Ignoring him, I walked over to Greta and gave her a bright, customer-friendly smile. “What can I get you?”

She glanced at the wall behind me, studying the beers on tap. “What do you recommend?”

“Are you a beer drinker?” I asked. “Or are you more into fruity drinks? Ruth and I have been playing around with a drink we’re creating. It’s a frozen drink with pineapple juice and rum. I know it’s cold, but the deliciousness makes up for it.”

“That sounds good,” she said, looking nervous as she glanced around the room. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” I said breezily, but I suspected Max would shoot me a death stare once he realized I’d moved Greta’s drink to the front of the line. Especially since it was so labor-intensive.

Ruth walked behind the bar with a handful of tickets as I poured pineapple juice into the blender full of ice. Her brows shot up. “Are you making our Pineapple Sunrise Surprise?”

I twisted my mouth to the side, unsure how she’d take this. “Maybe…”

“Who ordered that?” she asked, glancing around. “And why are you working the bar?” Her gaze landed on Greta and understanding washed over her face. She lowered her voice so Greta couldn’t hear. “That chickenshit.”

I hated that she thought so little of him, so I said, “It was my idea. I think he’d like to see her again, but he feels like an asshole for treating her poorly. I’m gonna see where he stands.”

“By butterin’ her up with our drink?”

I made a hesitant face. “Yeah…?”

She narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “I approve. I wish I’d thought of it myself. But move my tickets in front of Max’s,” she said, slapping them on the counter.

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