Page 19 of Caught Up In You

I head through the kitchen and into the back storage room where the full kegs wait. There’s a rusty old red wagon waiting beside it that Ernie found at Goodwill, and I drag the keg off the shelf inch by inch until it lands in the bed of the wagon with a riotous clatter. Then I head out the back door, because there are a few wonky steps and tight turns in the kitchen, and the wagon does better bumping through the alley and in the front door of the bar.

Unfortunately, the safety light in the alley is out, and I don’t see the pothole I usually navigate around with ease. The front wheel of the wagon disappears into it, the bed tipping and the keg rolling out onto the ground.

“Fucking great,” I mutter. I stare down at the silver behemoth. I have no chance of lifting it back into the wagon, which means I’ll have to resort to rolling it down the alley and through the front door like a rogue pirate.

I bend over, feeling the cold February air on the bare skin above the waistband of my jeans, and wish I’d thrown my coat on over the cropped T-shirt I’m wearing. I assumed I’d have this damn thing inside in no time, but as I struggle to turn the keg onthe asphalt, I realize this is going to be a slightly longer journey than I anticipated.

“Come on, you stupid beast,” I say to the keg, which has no response other than a metallic scrape as I wrestle it into position.

“Wyatt? You okay?”

I jerk to a standing position and spot Owen at the end of the alley. As if his presence carries an actual electric current, the alley light buzzes and flickers on.

The man looks like he’s bathed in heavenly light, an actual angel in powder-blue scrubs, his tan Carhartt jacket over top. He’s tall and solid, and he lookswarm.

I shiver.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to wear those out of the office,” I say, nodding at his scrubs. I say it to keep inside the sloppy moan that wants out at the sight of him.

He glances down and chuckles. “They’re clean. A patient tossed her cookies all over me about an hour ago, so it was this or go naked,” he says.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

And that shitty lamplight is just enough to show off the blush flooding his cheeks.

“No shirt, no shoes, no service,” I croak.

He laughs, then drops his eyes to the keg at my feet. “Need help?”

“No, I’m just going to roll it—” I start, but before I can even get the words out, he has walked over, gripped the handles with those strong, sure hands, and lifted the keg into the wagon. He doesn’t even grunt.

It makes me wonder about all the ways he could throwmearound.

He takes the handle of the wagon and says, “In the front?”

All I can do is nod and follow after him and the squeaky wagon like a lost puppy.

Inside the bar, Mrs. Eberle actually squeals at the sight of Owen before handing him an index card and a name tag. I watch his face closely as he listens to her explain the rules of speed dating, and the slight furrow of his brow tells me this is not what he had in mind for tonight. But Owen’s too good of a guy to make any trouble. He nods and smiles and agrees to whatever Mrs. Eberle wants. He even gives her a twenty-dollar bill and tells her to keep the change.

Everything he does makes me want him, and everything he does reminds me why that is a terrible idea.

But nothing makes that more clear than the tight fist of irritation in my gut as I take my place behind the bar and watch Owen sit down with Felix and Keeley Wentworth. That’s when I realize that I’m going to have to stand here for two hours and watch Owen flirt with a bunch of women.

And I’mjealous.

CHAPTER 8

OWEN

“Hey there, cowboy, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Wyatt’s mother slides into the seat across from me. Like Wyatt, she’s short, with round pink cheeks and a mischievous grin. Her hair is dyed a shade of red that definitely doesn’t occur in nature.

I reach a hand across the table for a shake. “I’m Owen,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”

“Such a gentleman,” she purrs, grinning. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I glance over her shoulder and spot Wyatt, who looks like she’s considering hurdling the bar and dragging her mother out of the Half Pint by her dyed hair.

I give her a little shrug, and she actually bares her teeth at me.

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