Page 26 of Nerdelicious
Small town, small place, which means we all need to be flexible. The volume of customers is surprising, but I guess there are no other liquor establishments in a fifty-mile radius.
Eliza does last call at one a.m. and then the crowd disperses like a flock of locusts leaving nothing but trash, bar glasses, and spilled beer in their wake.
An hour later, we’ve nearly finished cleaning up for the night. I’m wiping down the bar and Eliza is closing out tabs. There are only a few patrons left.
Feminine laughter echoes through the emptying space.
A few of the ladies from table twelve are at the front door. That Caroline woman is the source of the laughter. She puts her hand on Beast’s arm and then squeezes his bicep. Her friends titter.
Eliza comes up beside me, setting down a rack of clean bar glasses. She crosses her arms. “That’s been going on all night.”
“What?”
She nods at the door. Caroline is still there. She’sstilltouching him. A knot tangles in my stomach.
At my silence, Eliza continues, “Your friend really brings in the ladies.”
“I guess.”
“You guess? Look at him. He probably has a huge—”
“Eliza!” Face heating, I pick up one of the glasses and dry it off before putting it in the cupboard under the bar.
“What?” She flicks a hand at me, all innocence, and then disappears in the back.
I should avert my eyes, but I can’t. Caroline is basically a cross between a peppy cheerleader and a girl-next-door debutante. She’s the perfect complement to Beast’s large, dark countenance.
Caroline points out the door. Like she’s giving him directions.
What is she telling him?
Dammit, I can’t see his expression.
Just then, he glances back at the bar, and our gazes tangle for a hot second.
“That glass dry yet?” Ranger asks.
I jump. “What?”
“You’ve been drying that glass for five minutes now. I think it’s good.”
“Right.” I put it in the cabinet under the bar top and grab the next glass.
When I look up again, Caroline is gone.
Beast is hefting chairs up on one of the tables in preparation for mopping the floors. He lifts and stacks with ease, the muscles in his back bunching and twisting under the tight shirt.
So what if he goes out with the blonde? What do I care? I have no claim on him. We’re just friends. But my stomach twists with nausea at the thought anyway, independent of rational thinking.
The drive back to the ranch is silent. For once, I keep my trap shut.
A tight coil in my stomach I wasn’t even aware of relaxes when he follows me inside and locks the door behind us.
I offer a quick good night and jog up the stairs before he can make any kind of visible response. His footfalls plod in the direction of the study.
Getting ready for bed, I’m hyperaware of the house’s night noises, straining for any sounds of departure, or the door opening, or the truck starting. Basically, anything that might indicate Beast is taking off to meet up with his new love interest. But all remains silent. The coil in my belly relaxes.
This is unacceptable. Beast isn’t mine to worry over. I just got out of a long-term, terrible relationship, and I’m moving back to New York in a couple of months.
