Page 3 of Long Shot

Tight-lipped, I go back to take orders for another round of drinks from the table my bosses are at. They’re all laughing and happy, Beck and his wife, Hayden, Marco and Carrie, and Carrie’s family. A brief pang of self-pity strikes me, a moment of intense loneliness.

Then Marco smiles at me with a quizzical look, no doubt wondering if Cade thoroughly spanked me back in the office.

As if I’d want his hands on my ass.

I don’t need pity. I lift my chin and give Marco a determined smile in return. “Another Mayahuel?”

“Yes, please.” He circles a finger in the air. “Another round.”

The one thing I approve of at Conquistadors is the selection of tequilas These guys definitely know their tequila.

2

CADE

I watch Reese disappear out the office door. She tried to hide it, but she’s pissed. Her moss-green eyes flashed and those lush lips tightened, though it was barely perceptible. Her long red-gold ponytail bounces as she stalks out, and my eyes follow that trail of bright hair down her back to her ass.

She’s kind of on the skinny side, but that ass . . .

I blow out a breath. I’ve been told more than once to keep my hands—and my eyes—off our staff. Okay, specifically that one waitress. I would never go there. We’re trying to make this bar a success, and a reputation for sexual harassment won’t help.

Reese is an enigma. A gorgeous, anxious enigma.

She doesn’t hang out with any of the other staff. Possibly because she’s a little older than the college-age people we usually hire. She’s a hard worker, efficient and competent, and customers seem to like her. She doesn’t talk about herself, although she’s friendly and interested in others. Maybe that’s what makes me so curious about her.

I know nothing about her, except that she worked at a few high-end restaurants in New York City. She wears no ring, so apparently isn’t married or engaged, and there’s never any mention of a boyfriend. Or family. When asked why she moved to San Diego, she smiled and answered with a breezy, “I needed a change.”

What do I know about her? Besides the fact that she’s gorgeous, she’s jumpy. Sometimes I pick up on a faint tremor in her hands. A rapid blinking of her eyes. A habit of twisting her clothing—her shirtsleeve or hem—between her fingers.

Fuck, she fascinates me, and I have to shut that down. She works for me.

I push away from the desk and follow her back out to the bar where my buddy and business partner Marco is celebrating with his girlfriend Carrie.

Amelia’s little drama was embarrassing, but I managed to calm her down, and convince her that she doesn’t really want anything to do with me because I’m an asshole who has no intention of committing to one woman. The guys are on my ass about my active sex life, but screw them. Now that they’re both in relationships, they’re all uptight about my “degenerate” ways. As iftheydidn’t sleep around. Okay, Marco not so much. He was actually engaged to be married once, until she cheated on him and married someone else while he was away in Afghanistan. It took Marco a while to get over that.

With a smile, I take my seat at the table. I pick up one of the Tater Tot nachos on my plate, now cold, and shove it in my mouth. Potatoes, cheese, jalapenos . . . how can you go wrong? It’s decent bar snack food.

I catch Marco’s eye and give him a nod to let him know I’ve taken care of the issue. Our serving staff dissing our food isn’t going to help our business. Hopefully Reese keeps her word and doesn’t do that again or I’ll have to fire her ass.

Her ass . . .

No, no, I have to stop thinking about her ass.

I don’t want to fire her. None of us like firing anyone, although it’s happened. Finding good staff—not to mention retaining them—is surprisingly hard. Although I’m starting to think we might have to fire Sid, our cook. We’re doing okay, and Sid is doing his best to try new things and improve our food menu, but his skill set isn’t really up to the job.

The party starts wrapping up, Carrie’s family getting up to leave first, then Beck and Hayden, then Carrie and Marco are left standing, smooching, and gazing into each other’s eyes. Bleh.

“Go home,” I tell them. “I’ll lock up.”

The bar is empty now, only floor staff left putting away dishes and glasses, kitchen staff cleaning up. I’ll make sure the garbage is taken out, the grease traps cleaned.

“Thanks, man,” Marco says. “See you tomorrow.”

I turn to head to the kitchen. Reese stands at the bar folding towels neatly.

“Go home, Reese.”

“I’ll just finish these.”

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