****
Olivia stormed back inside the bar, and a wall of curious faces met her, none of which she acknowledged. The only person she did talk to was Jethro, her boss. She watched him sweep up the last of the glass around the corner booth before divulging her plans.
“I have to leave.”
Jethro’s eyes widened in surprise. “You can’t leave. You’re still on the clock.”
“Then I’m taking myself off. Besides, you kicked my ride home out of the bar, remember? Now all I have is Rod.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You have an hour and a half before closing. Surely, you can fill a few drink orders.”
On a mission, she turned to collect her purse from the kitchen and almost ran into the three strangers coming out of the restroom. She stopped mid-stride, uncertain what to say. Her moral upbringing reminded her to say Excuse me, while her impulsive resentful side wanted to impart a good old-fashioned F you.
Carlton had obviously cleaned himself up, save for the bright red bloodstain in the middle of his white shirt. His cowboy hat, once pressed with clean, smooth, symmetrical ridges, had dents and arcs in random places, making it appear lopsided on his head.
Olivia bit back a smile and circled them without saying a word. When she waltzed back into the dining area, she couldn’t help but notice that the three guys had found a seat at a different booth, with another round of beers, only this time they were in cold, frosty mugs. Probably on the house.
Liv seethed. She wasn’t sure who she should be angrier with, Jethro for allowing them to stay, or the guys who thought they were welcome to after the ruckus they’d caused.
Rod stepped inside the bar and must have noticed the same thing. Olivia saw his forehead furrow a bit over the whole scene and wondered if he were going to call attention to it. He had as much muscle as Brody to back up his dissatisfaction and a lot more clout with the folks of this small town. If anyone could get these guys thrown out without much dispute, it was Rod. To her disappointment, he shrugged it off.
“You ready?” he murmured, crossing his arms.
She was ready, all right. Ready to make a stand against these pricks. She had no idea where she’d gotten her sudden shot of fearlessness, but it hit her like a bolt of lightning. “One second, Rod.” She slapped her purse against his chest and stomped toward their booth.
A sweet, bright smile split Olivia’s lips as she regarded their uneasy glances. “You boys need anything else before I leave?”
Carlton smiled and set down his beer. He cleared his throat and, like the snake he was, slithered into that fake charming demeanor he’d used moments before he got his ass handed to him. “I don’t believe we do, darlin’.” He surveyed her up and down as if she were on the menu.
Olivia kept her cool and charmed him right back. “Wonderful. Then have a great evening.” With that, she reached across the table and grabbed all three mugs by their handles, busing in one fell swoop.
“Hey, hey, hey there. What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia simpered, glancing at the three full beer mugs in her possession and back at Carlton. “Did you still want these?”
Carlton smirked at her as if she were an idiot. “Well, yeah…” He had the earmarks of a jackass as he remarked behind the shield of his hand, “They don’t make ’em too bright up here, do they?”
Olivia flashed the biggest self-satisfied smile and poured all three mugs into Carlton’s lap. Carlton jumped up, his crotch soaking wet. “What the hell, woman? You just poured beer all over me!”
“Wow, look who the bright one is now,” Olivia jeered. She saw Rod finally making his way toward the booth. “You think this guy’s smart enough to know when he’s outworn his welcome?”
Carlton backed up, putting some space between him and Rod. He searched the bar, hoping he’d snag just a notion of pity from someone—anyone. But every individual in the Wagon Wheel stared at him with stoic, unsympathetic eyes. Even Jethro seemed reluctant to jump on his bandwagon.
Mrs. Corinth, with her crochet needle and yarn, slipped off her barstool and stepped forward, aligning herself with Olivia. “Young man, I think it’s time for you and your friends to go home. Rod? Will you kindly finish what your brother started and show these gentlemen to the door?”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” Rod straightened his hat and angled his body toward the door, extending his hand. “This way, boys.”
Carlton and his friends wasted no time leaving. Like reprimanded puppies, they scurried out the door and shuffled across the parking lot to their tinted-windowed, white diamond Escalade.
Olivia watched out the window until the luxury utility vehicle pulled onto the road before hugging Mrs. Corinth. She thanked the seventy-year-old woman for speaking up, wishing the rest of the people in the bar would’ve done the same for Brody. He was the one who deserved the support.
As she snatched her purse from Rod’s hand, she smacked his arm with it. “You owe your brother an apology. You know that, right?”
Rod shook his head as he held the door open for her. “I guess I’m going to find out all about why on the way, ain’t I?”
“And then some.”
Chapter Four
Longing For Langston (Mavericks of Meeteetse, Novella Book 1: Brody & Liv) Page 4