Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,23
usually an office type. Not a bar owner.”
“I’m not a workaholic. I live upstairs, so it just seems like I’m there a lot.” Law wasn’t sure why he was disputing Sawyer’s take. He would never ask anyone else to work as much as he did. But it wasn’t really workaholism so much as a question of what else he was going to do. He wasn’t handy like these guys, so no canoe making on the side for him. He didn’t really follow any sports. Well…almost none.
“I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it,” Sawyer said. “Just noting that you work a lot. And if you’re going to be splitting your time between two places, you’re going to have to be smart about it.”
“I know. And not only will I need servers for the restaurant, I’ll need a chef. That’s not something just anyone can do.” Law had all this factored into his plan, but like the loan, it was an example of the restaurant starting to feel unnervingly real.
“This is it for me,” Sawyer said as they approached the Mermaid Inn. He was smiling at his phone, no doubt reading a text from Eve.
“It’s not even eleven,” Law said. Historically the three of them had spent Friday nights at the bar—Jake and Sawyer sitting at it and Law working behind it. They still observed the Friday-night tradition, but the other two were ducking out earlier these days.
“The girls are done at the lake.” Sawyer glanced at Jake. “Nora said to tell you she went home.”
One corner of Jake’s mouth turned up, which for him was the equivalent of a swoon. “I’m out, then, too.”
All right, so his friends were getting all domestic. It was what it was. The nice thing about being a “workaholic” was he had work to do.
Speaking of employees, when Law got back to the bar, Carter waved at him from across the room. “Hey.”
The jukebox started playing the Spice Girls, startling Law. He thought Maya had left. He surveyed the room. She wasn’t at her usual spot at the bar. She wasn’t at the jukebox. A couple of thirtysomething women he didn’t know were bopping around next to it. Okay, false alarm.
Maya was always saying she wasn’t the only person in town who liked the Spice Girls. He hated it when there was evidence that she was right. But he also sort of loved it. He smiled despite himself.
“What’s up?” he said to Carter when he reached the bar.
“It’s quieting down. Mind if I take off early?”
He started to agree but thought better of it. Carter was scheduled to close. This would be good practice for the new regime, when Law wouldn’t be around to pick up the slack all the time. “Sorry, man. I have some stuff I have to do upstairs.”
Carter looked surprised but didn’t object. Law actually did have a lot to do. He was behind on ordering. And he needed to think about that hiring. He’d always relied on word of mouth, or placed ads in the Moonflower Bay Monitor, but maybe this time he should take a more methodical approach. What did that mean? LinkedIn?
He didn’t turn on the lights as he walked through his apartment to his living room, moved the curtain aside, and looked out.
It was a habit that had begun when she’d come home from college five years ago and moved into an apartment across the street. He wasn’t sure why he continued to do it.
Maya’s light was on.
She never left her curtains open at night, so it wasn’t like he could see in. It wasn’t like he wanted to see in.
He just…wanted to know that she was there.
Chapter Five
A few days later, Maya came in and plunked herself down at the bar. When Law set a wineglass in front of her, she shocked him by looking around furtively and whispering, “Truce?”
He wasn’t prepared for a truce. The last time he’d seen her, she’d left literally vowing revenge, aka the opposite of a truce.
After that night last December, she had taken to watching matches in the bar. But they had also developed a habit whereby, every once in a while, when there was an extra-important match, she would discreetly whisper, “Truce?” He would agree, and they would meet back at the bar later and sneak up to his apartment to watch.
They hadn’t done it a lot—seven times, to be exact. And curiously, it hadn’t changed anything about their relationship outside of their truces.