More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,62

smile slips. “My drinks are free.”

“I’m new,” I say, holding out my hand. “Luke Greenly. And no one ever told me drinks were free for family. So, I’ll just get your tab started.”

“My name is Marcus Carsewell; Vada Carsewell is my daughter.”

My grin is blinding. “I don’t recall Vada having a father.”

“Not having a…” Marcus shakes his head, his fist hitting the bar. “What are you talking about? Of course she has a father. I’m her father. Marcus. Marcus Carsewell.”

I keep my hand out for the payment. “That’s strange,” I say, tipping my head to the side. “See, Vada and I were talking about college, and I remember her telling me that she couldn’t afford to pay for school because the man she called Dad said she wasn’t his daughter. That he already had two kids. So, you can understand my confusion. You couldn’t possibly be her dad. She’s doesn’t have one.”

Marcus blinks.

“That about sums it up,” Phil says, startling me from behind. “You should probably hit the road, Marcus. I called you an Uber, and it’s almost here.”

Marcus slides off his stool, wobbling a little. He takes in Phil’s imposing figure and, with measured movements, slides his wallet into his back pocket without bothering to leave so much as a tip. “You think you’re all high and mighty with your disgusting bar and your snot-nosed bartenders, but I know you, Phil. And I haven’t forgotten how you couldn’t hack it playing professionally.”

“That’s true,” Phil says dryly. “And believe me, I’m so grateful you’re here to remind me of how far I’ve fallen. Take care, Marc. This one’s on the house. Don’t come back, or I’ll call the police.”

“You can’t call the police on me! My daughter works here.”

“Debatable!” I say.

Kazi jumps in front of the bar. “I think I see the Uber driver, Mr. Carsewell,” he says in a placating voice. He leads Marcus through the tables of curious spectators and out onto the street.

“Vada okay?” I ask as soon as the door closes behind them.

Phil pats my shoulder. “Yeah, she’s good. Annoyed as hell and has broken a few glass bottles out back, but she’s back to herself and sweeping them up. Afraid the raccoons will get cut up if she leaves a mess.”

“I had no idea what a proper dick her dad was,” I say, feeling sick. “I mean, I guessed, but he far exceeded my expectations.”

“And you’ve exceeded mine. You handled him like a pro.”

“He didn’t pay,” I grumble.

“He never has. I could call the police if I really wanted to, but I think you scared him away plenty, and this way, Vada doesn’t have to see her dad in handcuffs.”

“He really shows up just to get free booze?”

“I suspect it’s his asshole way of seeing his daughter, but yeah, at least once a month, he shows up here and drinks himself to the floor, berates his daughter, berates me, and then we kick him out.”

I stop short. “What do you mean, ‘berates his daughter’? What did he say to her today?”

“Nothing. He didn’t get the chance. She came in only minutes before you did, and I was about to kick him to the curb when I saw you were handing him his balls.”

I slouch back against the counter, relieved. “Right. Good. I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” Phil says. “Did I see rainbow cupcakes by the register?”

“My brother’s anniversary. Want one?”

“I already snuck one, actually. But you could bring one back to Vada, and while you’re at it, tell her the coast is clear and I expect her back to work.”

“Ten-four, boss.”

* * *

A minute later, juggling two cupcakes on a beverage napkin, I nearly smack right into Vada, leaving Phil’s office.

“For me?” she asks. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and she smells like the color green and fresh air.

“Well, one is. I was hoping to share. I’m a little early for my shift.”

Vada backs into the office, holding the door for me. I place the cupcakes on Phil’s desk, and she moves around to our boss’s chair and sits, folding a jean-clad leg underneath her.

I take the seat across from her, passing a lurid, multihued dessert across the desk.

“I didn’t know you bake,” she says. She picks at the rainbow wrapper and frowns. “Ah, wait. Cullen?”

“And Zack. It’s their anniversary.”

Her fingers pause midway to her mouth. “They baked them together?”

I nod, peeling my wrapper away. “I know. They’re one of those disgusting couples.”

“They are. Disgusting and adorable. How do you stand being around them?”

I raise