Page 2 of Wasted

"Ms. Coleman." The well-dressed man raised his voice. His tone carried a mixture of irritation, urgency, and a hint of anger. "I amnotthe enemy."

I stopped, spinning to face him. Mr. Robinson was an older gentleman who was uptight and looked like he had too much stress in his life. He was tall and overweight, had white hair, was clean-shaven, and always wore a gray suit with a solid red tie. He was persistent, but he wasn't the enemy. He was only the man trying to get me to sell my family's land to some investment company that was going to develop it, and I would die before I did that. "I don't know how to say it so you'll understand, Mr. Robinson. We've been doing this same dance for over six months now. I'm not selling my land to you."

"You are only months away from losing the place, and then you'll get nothing. Let me help you."

I leaned forward over the bar. "Selling my parent's land to developers is not helping me."

"It would take a miracle to get caught up at this point, Ms. Coleman. Sell the property, and you'll get some money from the deal. If you wait, you'll get nothing and still lose your land."

I would rather have nothing.

I plastered on a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Well, unfortunately for you, I still believe in miracles, Mr. Robinson." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I'd stopped believing in miracles a long time ago, but I would never say that out loud because I needed one right now. I turned away quickly, busying myself with wiping down the already clean bar, anything to avoid meeting his eyes and betraying the desperation I was trying so hard to hide. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a full bar tonight and need to get back to work."

Blowing out a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me if you change your mind." He slapped his hand flat on the dark mahogany bar, leaving behind his card when he raised it.

Picking up the card, I nodded, then sucked in a deep breath and glanced at the business card. Mr. Jason Robinson, RealEstate Attorney. Exhaling, I pulled open the drawer under the register and dropped the card inside on top of the other 200 cards he'd left. "See you in two days," I muttered as he walked away.

Pulling the towel off my shoulder, I dropped it to the bar. My gaze followed the well-dressed man, wondering how I ended up here again.

"Rough night?" a deep voice mumbled, pulling me back to reality. My gaze shifted to the dark-haired man. I'd been so distracted by Mr. Robinson that I hadn't seen him sit down. That wasn't like me.

I forced a smile. "You could say that." I pulled out a drink napkin, setting it in front of him. "What can I get you?"

"Taylor Coleman?"

"Fuck." My eyes closed as I hung my head. This was a small town, and everyone knew everyone. So, any time a stranger showed up and knew my name, it was always someone looking to see if I was ready to sell. My gaze lifted, meeting his. "If you are here to talk me into selling my parent's land, you're wasting your time too."

"I'll take a bourbon, and I'm not interested in your land, but I could be that miracle you're looking for."

He'd been eavesdropping.

I reached for the bottle of Woodford Reserve Kentucky Straight, its amber liquid catching the glow of the neon Budweiser sign behind me. The smoky aroma of whiskey mingled with the scent of stale beer and peanuts as I set a heavy-bottomed glass on the mahogany bar. "Anyone ever told you it's rude to put your nose in other people's business?" I tipped the half-full bottle and filled the glass with the dark liquid.

"Sure," he said, his gaze following my movements. "But I can help."

Rolling my eyes, I huffed out a humorless laugh. "Oh yeah, you got a couple of million dollars you're handing out?"

"Maybe I should introduce myself..."

"No need," I cut him off. "I'm not sleeping with you or anyone else for money."

He frowned. "What? No." He shook his head. "My name is Wyatt Hayes, and I'm Cole Montgomery's manager."

Cole Montgomery.

As Cole's name left Wyatt's lips, my chest tightened, and I fumbled the glass I was holding, nearly dropping it. My breath caught in my throat, and I gripped the edge of the bar to steady myself, hoping no one noticed the tremor in my hands.

"Well," I shuffled backward, "then you're definitely looking for the wrong person. His sister is Bailey, but she hasn't made it to work yet."

"I know Bailey, and I'm not here to see her. I'm here to see you."

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "And why is that, Mr. Hayes?"

"Well, I need your help, and you need my money. So, I thought we might be able to help each other out and work out a deal."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific." My gaze shifted to a man at the opposite end of the bar holding up his empty beer bottle. I nodded before my eyes moved back to Wyatt.

"Cole's out of control. He's out all night drinking and sleeping around. It's gotten so bad that he's showing up wasted to shows and costing us a fortune in cancellations. If he doesn't stop, he's going to get himself into a mess I can't get him out of. He won't listen to anyone, and I thought he might listen to you."

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