Page 796 of One More Kiss

No. Just…no.

“What are you doing here?” I ask back in accusation.

Two crystal-blue eyes narrow hard. “I needed a job.”

I feel a grin emerge, wide and goofy. “Well, I heard there was an ass-hat convention here.” I look around in jest. “Am I early?”

Arms folded, she blinks. Wow. Not even a smile. She really does hate me.

“You weren’t answering your calls or texts. Brian was worried.” So was I, but no need to bring that up now.

Regret fills her face, and she pulls her cell out of her pocket, pressing the button hard. “It must have died.” Business-like, she says, “Well, you can see I’m fine. What can I get you, sir?”

I huff a laugh. Sir. As if she can create a professional distance between us with a sir. She is going to make this way harder than it has to be, and there’s nothing I can do but take her crap and compliment the chef. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright and—”

Her lips purse as she shakes her head. “Sorry. This seat is for paying customers.”

I swear to God, ditching her or fucking her would be easier than this shit. I mentally thrash myself about the head and shoulders with a two-by-four for even thinking the latter.

Annoyed with everything at the moment, I check out the bar. “Whatever’s on tap,” I say, ordering because there is no way I’m leaving her here.

A second later, a tall lager is presented before me. I admire it for a minute. Thick collar of foam. A perfect pour. I sip, blown away by the flavor. “It’s good. What is it?”

“Chocolate lager. A combination of light and sweet malts to give it a richer, nuttier flavor, with a smidge of chocolate. I recommended it a month ago, but no one listened.”

I take another long, satisfying swallow and raise a brow. “You’ve tasted it?”

“I read about it. It’s a huge trend in upscale dining. And there’s a local brewer who can private label it for the restaurant. But what do I know?” she sighs and taps the bar. “That’ll be three dollars when you’re done.” She walks away to deal with other customers. I plant my ass further in the seat. Little does she know, I’m not going anywhere.

By the time I’ve had two beers, a mediocre club sandwich, and a large plate of cheese fries that Jess eventually nibbles at, she’s speaking to me again. More relaxed, less ax murdery. I know her weaknesses and can feel the barbed wire slowly melting away. But up until now, I feel like I never really got to know her. Hell, I didn’t even realize how many of the Donovan’s social media images were her work. Why didn’t I know that? Oh, yeah, because I’m gone two years at a stretch and whenever I’m around her, I’m a dick.

She holds up her wrist. A large, clunky watch dangles from her thin arm. “I’m having it engraved,” she says, almost daydreamy. “It’ll say, ‘Our path may change as life goes on, but our bond is ever strong.’”

I eye the narrow links skeptically. “Will it fit?”

Nodding, she shows me the clasp. “Right here. In very small print,” she squeaks. We both laugh.

“It’s a beautiful gift, Jess.” Her smile is wide and full of teeth, sporting an adorable overbite that I never get to see. Did I do that? Bring Jess a bouquet of kudos instead of a ton of shit? Wow, how times have changed. I stack another compliment to the pile. “So, you got a watch and a job by the same guy? You’re quite the multi-tasker.”

She beams with a shrug. “It’s just for tonight. He was short-handed. But I can now officially say I’ve tended bar.”

Part of my heart squeezes. Jess should’ve had that at the restaurant, not here. Josh said we should give her a chance, Tyler was undecided, and I was fucking Switzerland. Well, no longer.

An old man wheels his way behind the bar. By the tattoo on his neck, a veteran Marine. His chair is narrow enough to maneuver the tight space, and he does it with practiced ease. “Thanks for filling in, kid.” He hands her an envelope—probably full of cash. “You can take off. These last customers are like family. They can help themselves.”

She shakes his hand. “Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Adler. I really enjoyed it.”

“Buzz,” he says insistently. “Everyone calls me Buzz.” He frowns. “I wish I had a regular job for you, kid.”

“That’s alright,” I interject. “She’s got a job waiting for her in Saratoga Springs.” I add. “A bartending one.”

“Really?” she asks, not masking her excitement at all.

“Really,” I confirm with a militant nod. “After you take off on a short-paid vacation. Spend a few days with your brother.”

Her star-lit eyes capture mine, and I feel it to my soul. This girl is gorgeous, and I’m a goner. And that’s not beer goggles talking. That’s a little too much Jess time sinking into my chest and lassoing my heart. It almost makes me wish I was sticking around.

“Come on,” I insist. “Your phone is dead. You’ll need a navigator. I’ll lead you home.”

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