Zander_Heroes at Heart

by Maryann Jordan

  “But we were your favorites, weren’t we?” Jaxon asked, his easy laugh causing the others to grin again.

  “Oh, you two were rascals. Always trying to mix me up,” she said, pointing her finger at Jayden and Jaxon. “You were the only twins I ever got and I knew you apart from the first night you were here.” Smiling, she leaned forward and patted Jaxon’s knee. “When are you going to stop breaking hearts and find someone special?”

  “Aw, Miss Ethel, there’s just too much of me to go around to settle with just one woman for now.”

  “Don’t you sass me, boy,” she laughed.

  “No, ma’am,” Jaxon nodded. “Honestly, the garage keeps me busy. I’ve got more business than I can handle, so it’s all good.”

  “Jayden, how’s the rescuing people going?”

  “I passed the EMT training, so I still work at the fire station, but now drive the ambulance,” he replied.

  Beaming her pride, she turned her attention toward Asher. “And you? You taking care of yourself?”

  “For now, I’m good. I’m working at the homeless shelter.”

  “You’ve always had such a good heart.” Finally, she turned her eyes warmly upon Zander. “How’s your bar?”

  “Not much to tell since I last saw you, Miss Ethel,” he said. Her gaze pierced his and he shifted in his seat under her deep perusal.

  “But are you happy?”

  “Happy?” She had not asked the others if they were happy. Shrugging, he said, “The bar is a lot of work. That’s kind of my life right now.”

  “Oh, my dear, boy. You always were so serious. Do you still take time to read?”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “Every chance I get. Just re-read a few of the classics in between some new mysteries.”

  Smiling widely, she said, “Oh, I should get them on audiobook, unless you think they have too much sex in them for this old lady!” Laughing, she threw her head back, slapping her hand on her lap.

  Zander loved the sound of her laughter, hearing it so often as he grew up. As a child, it seemed natural, but as an adult, he often wondered how she found so much enjoyment raising a group of rowdy boys, all needing love and structure.

  Standing, he walked to the door where he had set her gift. After picking up the large bouquet of flowers, he walked back into the room, presenting them to her. She always said she did not need presents, but still she exclaimed over the flowers they brought.

  Bringing the blossoms to her face, she sniffed in appreciation. “Some people say they don’t like cut flowers, ‘cause they’ll just die. But, I’ve always loved all flowers. After all, that’s life, isn’t it? We live and then we die. But just like these flowers, life is to be enjoyed while we have it.”

  As the others smiled, Zander felt the strange prick of tears hitting the back of his eyes. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’ll get a vase,” he said, leaving the room and heading to the kitchen. Reaching inside one of the cabinets, he took down a glass vase, holding it under the tap, letting the water fill the bottom.

  His gaze roamed around the room, still neat and clean. He took care of the household repairs during his weekly visits, usually in the mornings since the bar was not open at that time. He knew that Rafe paid to have someone come clean once a week and a neighbor brought over food so that Miss Ethel did not have to cook every day. She was determined to maintain her independence for as long as she could.

  Blinking rapidly, clearing out the cobwebs, he walked back into the living room and placed the flowers in the vase before setting it on the table next to her. The others were hugging her goodbye and, when it was Zander’s turn, she patted his back while whispering, “You take care, Alexander. I sense you need more than the bar to make you happy.”

  Giving her a squeeze, he smiled, wondering if she were right.

  Piling the pillows behind his back, Zander settled into bed, heaving a sigh. The evening rush had been especially taxing with one server out sick, two customers taking swings at each other after too many drinks, another rowdy bachelor party, and Joe dropping two bottles of whiskey as he spent more time trying to impress the female customers than pouring drinks. At the moment, Zander was trying to remember why he thought owning a bar would be a good thing.

  Taking a large book off the nightstand he opened it to the bookmark. Eschewing eReaders, he preferred to feel the weight of the book in his hand, the paper underneath his fingertips and, if it was an old copy, the slightly musty smell from the old print.

  Burying himself in the words of the classic, he felt his body relax, the cares of the day drifting away.

  4

  Music reverberated throughout the bar, even invading Zander’s space in his office. Closing his eyes, he felt the base booming through his head. He was out on the floor earlier, but his employees had everything well in hand. Finishing the stock order, he looked up as Charlene walked in, her hands clutching one of the cash register drawers.

  “Hey, boss. It’s not too bad out there, but I wanted to get this to you now.”

  “Must be good if the till is already full,” he responded, taking the metal drawer from her. Emptying the money into a money bag, he handed her the empty drawer and locked the money in the safe. “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.

  As soon as he left his office, he turned and locked the door, seeing three women just outside waiting for the ladies’ room in the well-lit hall. All laughing and talking at once, he pressed against the wall as he passed. Stopping at the end of the hall, he stood next to the bar, taking a practiced look around. As usual, Roscoe and Zeke appeared to have things under control at the door. Charlene was behind the bar with Joe, and the servers were moving between the tables.

  The clink of glasses was drowned out by the dull roar of a multitude of voices filling the room all at the same time, each group vying for dominance. The game being played on all the TVs mounted on the wall brought cheers or groans in unison.

  At six feet tall, Zander appreciated being able to see over most of the crowd. The women who had been behind him in the hall made their way back to a table near the side and he observed one with a plastic tiara and a tight, white t-shirt announcing her as the bride to be. God, I hate bachelorette parties almost as much as bachelor parties. While the men always seemed to be on the prowl, the groups of women just got loud and sloppy drunk.

  Catching Lynn’s arm as she passed by, he said, “Keep an eye on the bridal group over on the side. I don’t want anyone stumbling outta my bar, puking their guts up.”

  “Sure thing, Zander,” she grinned, a tray of beer and drinks in her hands.

  Hearing another cheer roared from the back, he spied a few men eyeing the group of bridesmaids. Shaking his head, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, out of the way, but in a perfect position to keep an eye on things. The memory of Miss Ethel asking if he was happy floated through his mind. Sighing, he had to admit, he was not sure of the answer.

  “Excuse me.”

  A soft voice from behind met his ears, jerking his thoughts back to the present. Turning, his attention snagged on a woman trying to squeeze past him as she returned from the restroom. She was petite, only coming to his chin. A mass of light blonde hair waved down her back and she swiped her bangs back from her forehead. As she leaned her head back, her light blue eyes captured his and a slight smile gently curved the corners of her mouth. Her pale complexion glowed with the mirrored reflection from the bar and he was suddenly reminded of a picture in a fairy tale book Miss Ethel used to read. Hair the color of corn silk, sky-blue eyes, and a light blush on her cheeks. Sleeping Beauty. He remembered the picture where the princess lay on her back, her long, light blue dress arranged perfectly, and her eyes closed.

  As he continued to stare, she walked toward the back where the bridal group had gathered. He shook his head once more, this time trying to shake the feeling of wistfulness that descended as she walked past, and got back to work.

  An hour later, he noticed the same woman sitting at the bar,
ordering another drink. Just as he was walking toward her stool, a man stepped up behind her, placing his hand on her back as he leaned over her shoulder to throw some money down onto the bar. Zander watched wide-eyed surprise cross her face when she twisted her head to see who was there. She appeared shocked to see the man, but as he moved forward to intercede, she smiled shyly, ducking her head. Zander halted in his tracks at the blush rising from her neck up toward her cheeks. Swallowing hard his mouth tightened into a hard line and he forced his thoughts away from her.

  Moving to the other side of the bar, he attempted to focus his attention on the customers in front of him, but was unable to keep his eyes from straying down the row to see the couple as they chatted.

  “You okay, boss?” Joe asked, reaching past him to grab the vodka as he lined up shots for one of the servers to take to the bachelorette party.

  “Fine,” he groused, trying—and failing—not to notice that the woman had not rejoined her group, but instead continued to enjoy her drink at the bar. Watching as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “She’s probably not fucking old enough to be drinking,” he muttered.

  “What are you grumbling about now?” Charlene asked, snagging money off the bar to put into the register.

  “You check the ID of that girl down there?”

  Charlene turned in the direction of his head jerk before looking back. “The bar’s packed—who the hell are you talking about?”

  “That blonde. The one that looks like…” his voice trailed off. If he said what he was thinking, that she looked like a princess, he knew he would never hear the end of it.

  Charlene looked again and then speared Zander with a glare. “Seriously, boss? She wasn’t in my section to begin with. She must have come up from one of the tables with her drink with her.”

  “So, the answer is no,” he stated, sounding like an ass even to his own ears.

  Charlene leaned in, an angry spark in her eyes, and said, “You want to check her ID to see if she’s of age…be my guest!” With that, she stalked to the other end of the bar.

  Keeping his eyes on the blonde, he noticed her body language as she moved slightly away from the man still towering over her. Her smile, less bright, appeared to be more from nerves than from enjoyment. He observed her shake her head several times and when the man put his hand on her arm, attempting to pull her from the bar stool, Zander had had enough.

  “This man bothering you?”

  Her blue eyes widened as she stared at Zander, her mouth opening and closing several times. “Uh…”

  “I’m not bothering the pretty lady,” the man said, his cheeks ruddy with alcohol and his body swaying slightly as he stood to his full height. “Me and her are just getting to know each other better, aren’t we, sweet cheeks?”

  “I…uh…” was her response, her eyes pleading toward Zander as she glanced at the man still standing next to her.

  “Take your hand off her. Now,” Zander ordered, his jaw tight and his fists clenched at his side.

  “Who the hell do you think you—”

  “I’m the owner but, more importantly, I’m the one warning you to get your hands off the lady right fuckin’ now.”

  Looking down at the blonde, the man said, “You don’t have a problem with me, do you, sweet cheeks? Tell the man you and me are going to dance.”

  “Please, let me go,” she said, wincing as his fingers tightened.

  Roscoe, alerted by Charlene, walked up behind the man, clamping his large hand on the man’s shoulder. “You want me to show him the door, Mr. King?”

  “Hell, yeah. Show the gentleman to the door, and,” staring the man straight in the eye, he added, “you don’t come back.”

  Roscoe’s fingers dug into the flesh just below the man’s shoulders, causing him to curse as he let go of the blonde’s arm.

  Looking back down at her, he sneered, “So not worth it. Thought you’d be happy for a good time, but you’re nothing but a cock tease.”

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” Roscoe said, his wide smile still in place. “Listening to you is painful. Come on.”

  Watching Roscoe and the man disappear out the door, Zander dropped his gaze back to the beautiful woman sitting in front of him, her wide eyes now pinned on him, the nervousness appearing to morph into relief.

  “Thank you,” she said, her soft voice, caressing, as her tiny, pale fingers flitted across the bar, touching his arm. “Thank you so much. I had no idea what to—”

  Pulling his arm back, the tingling from her touch feeling like a brand, he growled, “You shouldn’t be here. You come into a place like this and expect, what? This is no place for someone like you. You would’ve been better off staying with your pack. Why the hell didn’t you stay with your friends over there?” His chin jerked toward the back where the bachelorette party was still in full swing, their loud laughter drawing attention.

  She twisted her head around to look in the direction he indicated. Turning back toward him, her brow now marred with a crease, she said, “I don’t…uh…I’m not with—”

  “You know what?” he said, “It doesn’t matter. You come into a bar, you need to have some fucking sense of protection. You ain’t got that, you don’t have any business in my bar.” Glancing down at her empty glass, he added, “As of now, you’re cut off. Go back to your friends.”

  “I’m here alone…I’m not with them,” she protested.

  Rearing back, he blinked before leaning back in. “Then that makes it worse. You’re not even here protected by friends. You come alone? You’re setting yourself up for problems.”

  Her breath left her lungs in a rush as she continued to protest, “That’s sexist.” She cast her eyes around the bar before bringing them back to his face. “There’re lots of single women here. You’re not fussing at any of them.”

  He knew she was right, but the sight of the man with his hand squeezing her arm still had him seeing red, and as much as it made him an asshole, he continued to take his frustration out on her. He leaned closer, ignoring the subtle scent of her perfume, and said, “Maybe ‘cause they all look like they know how to handle themselves instead of some little doll, too easily broken.”

  Pushing back, he watched as her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly while swallowing. Guilt momentarily hit him and he dropped his chin to his chest, saying, “Look, I think it’s better if you go.”

  “Fine,” she agreed, stumbling on her heel as she slid off the tall stool.

  “Hang on,” he said, “I’ll call a cab.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of—”

  He walked around the end of the bar as he called a cab and, with his hand on her lower back, he moved her toward the door, ignoring the warmth that radiated from his fingertips to his arm. Irritated, he sucked in a quick breath through his nose, quickly realizing his mistake when her soft scent assaulted him once again.

  I have no time in my life to be thinking of a beautiful woman to spend time with…especially not one that looks like a princess to my ogre. As that analogy flitted through this mind, he groaned. Jesus, I’ve lost my fucking mind.

  “Roscoe. I’ve called a cab. Please see the lady safely outside.”

  If Roscoe questioned why he was escorting the beautiful woman out of the bar, he did not let on. “Sure thing, boss.” Turning to the blonde, he smiled widely as he opened the door. “Follow me, miss.”

  At the door, she looked over her shoulder, tucking her long hair behind her ear as her blue eyes held his. Her shoulder hunched forward, an expression of sadness moving over her face. Just as he was about to call her back, she turned and walked out the door.

  “Are you sure you did the right thing?” Lynn asked, coming up to stand next to him, her words laced with concern, eyes pinned on the now-closed door.

  “No one’s ever sure about anything,” he said, already regretting his decision.

  “She looked like some kind of little fairy,” she added, patting him on the arm before taking her t
ray back to the bar for refills.

  With his hands on his hips, his heart strangely empty, he whispered to no one, “Like a goddamn princess. But life’s no fairytale, that’s for sure.”

  Shouts rang out from the back, snagging his attention and he whirled around in time to see one man take a swing at another. Before the crowd broke into a melee, he bellowed for Zeke and Roscoe while he pushed people out of his way, trying to get to the fight quickly.

  One man fell onto a table, knocking bottles and glasses crashing to the floor. Several women screamed while scrambling to get out of the way, tripping over each other. Zeke was already in the crowd, his arms around one of the men just as another man threw a punch, hitting the man Zeke was holding. Both men fell backward to the floor, causing more patrons to scramble out of the way.

  “Shit,” Zander cursed, ducking as another man attempted to hit him when he pushed by. “I’m the goddamn owner, so get the fuck out of the way.” The man stumbled back, wide-eyed, allowing him to pass.

  Roscoe, having rushed in from the door, his large body shoving people with no regard, grabbed another man attempting to throw a sucker punch, while Zeke scrambled to his feet. Zander and Roscoe managed to contain the final two men involved and, holding their arms tightly behind their backs, moved them to the door.

  “Out!” Zander roared and the three troublemakers were pushed through the front door. “And don’t let me see you here again!”

  Hustling back in to make sure the remaining crowd was orderly, they stood inside the door for a moment. Looking at Zeke, Zander asked, “You okay?”

  Scowling, he said, “Yeah. Can’t believe the asshole got a punch on me.” Taking the ice pack that Joe tossed to him, he nodded his thanks.

  Looking at Roscoe, Zander asked, “Blondie get in the cab okay?”

  The large bouncer wiped his face as he nodded. “It was just pulling into the parking lot when I heard you shout. I told her to get in and get home.”