Page 2 of Make My Heart Malt

“Are you giving away free shots again, Dessa?” Jake strolls between me and Lach behind the bar with a case of beer in his hands.

“I need taste testers since you’re out.” I glance at the row of customers in front of me, a hopeful expression on my face. Two guys and a girl all raise their thumbs, the other girl squishes her face like she sucked on a sour candy, and the third guy spits half of the cocktail back into the glass before pushing it away.

My shoulders drop. “I’m taking that as a no.” I’ve never been this off on my game before. It’s unsettling.

“We can always do an old one,” Lach says. “What was the one from a couple of weeks ago? It had vodka, peach schnapps, and triple sec.”

“The Backseat Smash,” I answer on a sigh.

Lach points the chalk marker at me. “Yes! That one. Customers loved that one.”

My shoulders deflate. I hate reusing a drink—especially when it was already featured. Plus, this is what I do. Wonder Woman is nothing without her superhuman powers much like a mixologist is nothing if they can’t create drinks. “But we already did it.”

“I’m sure half of the customers won’t even know, and the other half won’t care. We can do that again.”

“I really wanted a ‘Welcome Back Rylee’ cocktail.” I huff out a breath. “What time is it?” I glance at Lach.

He his gaze drops to his black watch. “Ten to eleven.”

“Shit! I lost track of time.” Or I got distracted with all the baseball talk. Either way, I need to get the decorations. Abandoning my cocktail for now, I race to Jake’s office and collect the balloons, streamers, and the banner.

Rylee’s been on maternity leave for the past month.Even though she has three months, she’s opted to take one and work a few hours a day to make sure we’re all doing our jobs. I know deep down, she misses me, her best friend, and perhaps it’s to get a little reprieve from Trey, who’s determined to have another kid. Who knew the man who claimed to never want kids, now wants enough to fill a baseball roster?

One hour and a sweaty forehead later, I peek my head over the ledge of the side window into the Porter’s parking lot.

“She’s here! Get ready!”

I scamper to the main bar area where everyone is gathered. A corner of the banner we got that saysWelcome Back Ryleedrops from the ceiling. I climb on a stool and re-secure it. As I step down, a sliver of light pours in through the front door as Rylee strolls in. A roar of claps and cheers rolls through the bar as everyone rises to their feet.

The widest grin takes over her face as pink tinges her cheeks. “What is all this?” She glances around the packed Porter’s. She strolls toward the end of the bar where Lach, Nora, Jake, and I are standing. As she passes, everyone offers their congratulations. “You’d think I won a Nobel Peace Prize, not had a baby.”

When she’s within arm’s reach, I squeal and pull her to my chest. “I’m excited you’re back.

She giggles under her breath. “You’ve come over every week since I’ve been gone.”

“I know, but working with those two,” I hike my thumb between Lach and Jake, “has been boooring.”

“Hey, I heard that,” Lach says.

I glance behind me. “I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “If I was gone for a month, you’d miss me.”

I roll my eyes. “Hardly.” I playfully jab my elbow into his chest.

He chokes out a laugh. “Son of a bitch. I need to find some less violent friends.” He rubs at his chest before wrapping an arm around Rylee. “Glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” She smiles at him. “Now everyone, get back to work.”

“Listen to the boss.” Jake clasps a hand on her shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

Rylee and Jake stroll down the hall to his office while Lach tends to the opposite end of the bar. I grab a frosty pint glass from the cooler and hold it under a tap, pulling the lever down. Once it’s full, I pass it to a customer and pour another. The front door opens, and a sliver of sunlight pierces through. I peer up. A tall, rugged man in dark jeans and a fitted white shirt that accentuates his toned arms, with a tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve stands a foot inside the doorway. A baseball cap is perched on his head, dark hair spilling out from the sides. His scruff-covered jawline rivals any stone statue. He turns my way and pulls the aviators off his face. A half smirk tugs at his lips.

Time stops. My breathing stops. Noise stops. Everything stops. All the people in Porter’s disappear. Standing before me is a ghost of a man. One I knew years ago and hoped I would never have to see in person again. Stars burst through my vision, then my entire world goes black.

TWO

IT’S NOT DESSA

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