Page 85 of Late to Love

“When’s the last time I actually asked you for help?”

I consider. “Never?”

He snaps and points a finger at me. “Bingo.”

In no time at all, we’d stocked everything up for the day and opened, then were swarmed with one party after another. We ran ragged, and while normally I’d have taken up my station behind the bar, there was no time to do anything but serve a few beers and run right back onto the floor. Which meant that I got to be on the receiving end of a slightly panicked father who was running point on a birthday party for his four-year-old.

The dude clearly needed some help, but at the same time, it was comforting to see how all the other dads came together to wrangle the little wild things for the party. I comped a pitcher of beer for them, and you’d have thought I was Santa Claus with the grateful looks they gave me.

“Our wives thought it’d be a great idea for us to run one of these ourselves,” the host dad said, clutching his plastic cup of beer like it was a lifeline. “And I thought, how hard can it be? Me and the guys figured this was the safest place to do it. They’re contained, they’ve got game tokens, easy.”

I stared at him and waited for the punchline. There was nothing easy about little kids’ birthday parties. Not unless you were an oblivious asshole who let your kids run rampant with no regard for anyone else. I may not have kids, but run a place that’s regularly filled to the brim with them, and you learn some things real fast.

“Anyway,” he said with a squirm, “thanks for the beer.”

I grunted and walked away, no longer comforted in the least.

Surprising no one, I was back in that same party room an hour later, cleaning up puke from where none of the dads paid attention to the little girl who ate not one, butfivecupcakes fast as lightning. It would be funny if it weren’t gross.

Half an hour later, I finally finish cleaning up the mess and scrub my hands for all I’m worth, then find Harrison at the front helping the same little girl pick a prize for the insane number of tickets she’s somehow cobbled together. With her prize picked, she skips off with a smile.

I meet Harrison’s eyes. “That girl is going to be a handful.”

He laughs. “And good for her.”

“Good point,” I acknowledge. “And when she grows up, she’ll be a woman who knows what she wants.”

Reid and Matty saunter in, Midnight and Killer strapped to each of their chests. I raise an eyebrow. “No animals, guys. No matter how adorable they are.”

Matty grins. “We wanted to check on you.”

“Nice bruise,” Reid says, lifting his chin at the faint blue surrounding the wound on my cheek.

I exhale. “Yeah. I deserved it.”

“Did youalsodeserve the verbal ass-kicking that Darcy gave you? Because I bet it was epic.” Reid’s eyes are lit up with the possibility of fresh gossip.

Harrison rubs his hands from behind the counter. “Ooh, what’s all this? I wasn’t going to ask about the face, but clearly, I left too early yesterday.”

I point my finger at Reid. “I’m not telling you shit,” I proclaim. To Harrison, I say, “And you’re getting a raise and title change. Now go do something worthy of it.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I say gruffly. “Beat it before I change my mind.”

He practically leaves a dust trail.

Turning back to the guys, I motion them outside and follow. Squinting up at the bright blue sky, I take a deep breath and let it out. “Let me guess: Ox told you two?”

“Who else?” Matty answers. “By the way, how do you feel about cats?”

“Don’t answer that,” Reid interjects. “Unless you want a litter roaming around your loft.”

“I’m allergic,” I deadpan. The fact that I’m scratching Midnight under her chin notwithstanding.

Matty narrows his eyes. “I think you’re lying.”

I grin. “Guess you’ll never know.”

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