Page 21 of Tasting Fire
Cash chuckled. “Maybe we need to set out one of those at the station.”
“Tips have been way up lately. It’s what happens when people stop being so damn scared about surviving. They open back up—their wallets, their minds, their hearts.”
“Bartender philosopher. No wonder the tips are pouring in.”
“It’s a gift.” Grady chuckled. “Now what can I get you?”
Cash leaned against the bar and gave him the drink order.
In less than a minute, Grady had the beers and two frosted glasses lined up perfectly on the wooden surface. He shook his head when Cash reached for his wallet. “You know Randi will have my hide if I let you pay for those.”
With a nod, Cash pulled out a twenty and dropped it into the pitcher. “But she’d never take away your tips.”
“You’re a sneaky bastard, Kingston.”
Cash scooped up the drinks and glasses. “Appreciate it, Grady.”
“Just holler when you decide on food.”
He turned toward the table where Emmy was scanning everything going on inside the Triple B. She looked up when he lifted a beer and glass, asking a silent question.
“I’ll take it in the bottle.”
A woman after his own heart.
No, not his heart or anything else. She’d crushed it once, and once was more than enough.
Cash sat and elbowed the glasses to the side. “Randi’s built something special here—a bar, but also a place where families can come to eat, people can dance and even borrow a book.” A Little Free Library was tucked into a corner and did a brisk business. In fact, Cash had picked up a copy of Sandra Brown’sTailspinjust last week and dropped off the latest Harlan Coben. Both authors had a way of writing a story that he couldn’t put down.
“It’s so good to see.”
Cash sat back and studied Emmy. “Almost like a real town, huh?”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s no Baltimore. Which is why I don’t understand why the ambitious Emmy McKay came back.”
Emmy’s eyes went hot, and she clinked the bottom of her beer bottle hard against the top of his. Foam rose up and spilled over to run down the side of the bottle. Cash grabbed it and put his lips around it to stop the lava-like flow. His mouth filled up with bubbles and he had to swallow several times before his beer settled back down.
She eyed his half empty bottle. “You deserved that.”
“Yeah, I probably did.”
“For more than just a few snarky comments today,” she said evenly. “Why did you undermine me after the training exercise?”
“It wasn’t personal—”
“No, it wasn’t. TMT business is professional, and this team won’t gel if the team member they respect the most is acting like a sulky schoolboy.”
Direct hit.
Man up. The best way out is through.It was a mantra that had helped him get through the hellacious stress of paramedic school.
“You’re right. I was a dick. I brought my personal…”Don’t use the word feelings.“…issues into it, and doing that in emergency situations is unprofessional and dangerous.” He looked away and blew out a breath, but before he could turn back to Emmy, something warm and heavy plopped into his lap.
Someone who smelled like cranberries and triple sec.
Chelsea Black. Who loved nothing better than a well-made cosmopolitan.
