back and into the hallway, turning tail, and booked it outside.
My hands shook as I processed his words.
Never in a million years did I guess that he might have lost someone that night too. Everything suddenly became so clear. Why he was the way he was, why he was so mean to me and everyone else. He had survivor’s guilt. Bad. And just like that I promised myself I’d stay and see this through no matter what.
Chapter 8
Ashton
The place was dead, no surprises there, but it gave me time to do inventory on bottles and figure out what I was going to tell Darcy.
She texted me this morning that the laundromat had come up ten percent. I’d told her I needed a day or two to think about it. Ten percent more would just barely get me out of this with my head still on my shoulders. But something gave me pause.
Millie.
She was scrubbing the kitchen like Martha Stewart, and after buying all that organic shit and a fridge … I dunno. She bought two box fans too and was singing in the back while the wind whipped her pretty floral dress around. Something I tried and failed not to notice.
She had killer legs.
She had so much energy, and for a chick who’d known me and this bar for all of twenty-four hours, she sure did believe she could turn it around. Problem was, I was so ready to be done with it.
Later that night, she walked over and placed a plate in front of me.
“What is it?” I asked her, as I inspected what looked like mini chicken burgers that she’d passed through the open window to me. After she’d waltzed in with a fridge and a bunch of other shit, and declared she was saving my bar, it sent me into a tailspin. She reminded me of my late sister in a way. Ambitious, headstrong, and clearly didn’t take no for an answer. I’d known this chick all of twenty-four hours and she was asking me to give her time to “save” my bar? I felt like I’d stepped into the twilight zone. Jenna wanted to change the bar, make it more hip. She’d been the one to convince me to buy that fancy stove and start serving brunch.
But she died before that dream could be realized.
Brunch at Wayne’s Place. She’d held her hands up and trailed her fingers in the air. Jenna learned to cook from my gran and made the best biscuits and gravy you’d ever tasted.
“It’s a fancy chicken sandwich. Try it.” Millie nudged.
Something had changed in her. She was nice and it freaked me out. Gone was the cagey witch I’d become used to. Now I was on guard with this new, nice Millie, wondering when she was going to pounce on me with some new demand or show her true colors. Maybe this sandwich had poison in it.
I peeled the top bun off. There was some speckled creamy shit that looked a bit like ranch dressing but wasn’t white enough. “What is that?”
She facepalmed herself. “It’s garlic aioli. Fancy mayo. Just try it.”
Fancy mayo.
“What’s wrong with regular mayo? Why you gotta fancy it?” I pinned her with a glare. I wanted to test her new found niceness and poke holes in that façade.
“Lord help me.” She looked up to the ceiling. “Just try it.”
My upper lip curled as I placed the top back on and inspected it a bit more. “Avocado and fried chicken don’t go together, honey.” This city girl was way out of her element.
She rolled her eyes, leaning on the pass-through food window and glared at me.
“Ashton. Try the fucking sandwich,” she bit out.
And she was back. The viper. Hah. I knew she couldn’t hold on to the fake nice thing for long. With a smug smile, I shoved it into my mouth with all the grace of a pig and took half the thing down in one big swallow, hoping to piss her off more with poor manners, but she simply grinned at me sweetly.
Faker.
Flavor exploded on my tongue and I took another bite.
Holy shit, this was good. The garlic was smoky, and damn that fried chicken was crisp. The avocado gave it a nice texture change from the crisp. The bun also seemed to have been heavily toasted and buttered.
As I chewed, I watched her, trying to control my reaction. I didn’t want her to think it was too good. I was selling this damn place, she didn’t