“Gia.”
Looking to my left when my name’s called, my lungs freeze as my eyes connect with the man coming toward me. He looks a little familiar, but probably because I’ve seen men who look like him in magazine ads for outdoor wear and spicy colognes that smell like musk or the sea. Swallowing, I take in the long-sleeved dusty blue Henley accentuating the muscles of his chest and arms, his long legs covered in jeans, and boot-covered feet. My heart pounds as I realize he’s the guy I saw standing with the group of bikers outside of Daisies.
“Gia?” he repeats as his deep brown eyes surrounded by thick long lashes scan me.
“Um…” I breathe, and his lips twitch, drawing my attention to them and his strong jaw covered in a thick layer of stubble. “That’s I… I mean, that’s me. Gia is me,” I stutter out, trying to ignore the way his grin is making me feel. “I’m Gia,” I reiterate, thankful when the words come out clear. Hopping down off the barstool, my feet wobble under me when they hit the floor, and then I hiss out a breath when his hand wraps around my bicep to steady me.
“You okay?” he asks gently, dropping his eyes to my arm, and I tilt my head back to look up at him and nod, feeling his fingers imprinting into my skin where they are touching me.
“I’m okay.” I try to take a step back, but he doesn’t let me go. “Promise. I’m just a little clumsy sometimes.” I smile, not wanting him to think I’m a weirdo, which apparently I am.
“You sure?”
“Positive.” I look up, noticing how tall he is. Even with the added height from my heels, he still has to dip his head to look me in the eye.
“I’m Colton.” He takes a step back, finally releasing his hold on me, and I instantly miss his touch.
Pulling in a much needed breath to fight that ridiculous feeling off, I smile—or try to, but I’m sure it comes off wonky.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, wondering why he’s smiling at me like he is. “I’m supposed to meet Rose for an interview at ten.”
Watching his eyes crinkle in the corners and his smile turn into a grin, I know I’m screwed even before he opens his mouth. “Rose is my mom. She had to run out and asked if I’d interview you this morning.”
“Oh.” I look toward the door, wondering if I should just save myself and make a run for it. Who needs money anyway, right?
“If you’ll follow me, we can go back to the office and get started.” He turns and I give myself a mental pep talk as I follow him down behind the bar, watching his ass, which is probably something I shouldn’t be doing, seeing how he’s the son of the woman who was supposed to interview me. And her name is Rose, leading me to believe she is most likely the owner of this place.
“Have a seat.” He nods toward a chair sitting just inside the door of the small office he leads me into. “Would you like something to drink?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask for a shot of Jack, but instead I mutter, “No, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.” I take a seat and cross my legs once more, watching him grab a file folder off of a shelf, and then I watch as he folds his tall, lean body into a chair directly across from mine.
“Are you new in town?” he asks, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, and I swallow hard as the space between my legs tingles. His arms are strong and tan, his hands massive, and his fingers long. I can actually picture him sliding those big hands over my body, which is absolutely insane, because I haven’t really wanted a man to touch me in ages. “Gia?” I hear a smile in his voice then see it on his face when I look up at him. I know he expects me to answer his last question, only I’ve already forgotten what it was.
“Sorry, I didn’t get that.”
“It’s all right.” He leans back in his chair, causing it to squeak under his weight. “I was just wondering if you’re new in town?”
“Oh.” I take my bag out of my lap and drop it to the ground near my feet. “Yeah, I just got here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Where are you from?”
“Chicago,” I say, and he tips his head to the side.
“The city? Did you grow up there?”
“Yep, my whole life.” I shrug, and he whistles through his teeth.
“Chicago to Tennessee. That’s a big change. What brings you here?”
“My grandmother lives here and… she wanted me to move closer,” I lie, since my grandma doesn’t even really know who I am. Everyday when she wakes up, I have to explain to her that I’m her granddaughter and not my mom or some stranger living in her house.
“Where did you work in Chicago?” he asks, placing his elbows to his knees and getting closer.
“I worked at a daycare.”
“How long were you there for?”
“Since graduating from college,” I say, and he frowns.
“And now you want to work here?” he questions, sounding genuinely confused. “You do know this is a bar, right?”
“I need a job.” I shrug. One thing my dad always said is that money is money. When you’re paying your rent or buying groceries, it doesn’t matter what you did to earn that money; it just matters that you worked for it.
“This place is a little rough around the edges. Do you think you can handle working here?” His eyes drop to my sweater then boots, making me shift uncomfortably in my chair.
I really should have gone home to change.
“I’m from Chicago,” I use as my answer, since Chicago is one of the most crime-ridden cities in the United States.
“How are you at math?” he asks, looking at the phone on the desk when it starts to ring. Obviously not wanting to talk to whoever is calling, his eyes come back to me.
“All right, I guess.”
“And what about people?”
“What do you mean?” I frown, and his eyes drop to my mouth for a moment before he meets my gaze once again.
“How are you with people? Do you get along with people?”
“Sure,” I lie again, knowing I’m not very good at making friends. But really, how friendly do you need to be to work at a biker bar? Sure, you need to be able to take drink orders and whatnot, but I can’t imagine bikers being big on small talk, so I shouldn’t have a problem.
“When can you start?”
So caught off by his question, I stutter out, “I… uh…. Tomorrow?”
“Pay on days is shit, but mom says those are the hours you’re looking for. Can I ask you why?”
“I don’t like my grandma being home alone at night,” I answer.
Twice since I’ve been here, she’s fallen in the middle of the night, which worries me. Plus, when I mentioned getting someone to help out during the day if I got a job, Nina assured me that she’s okay with keeping an eye on her like she has been. I don’t want to keep her from her husband or life any more than she already has been, and if I worked nights, it would definitely do that to her.
“She’s lucky to have you,” he says, and my stomach warms at the soft tone of his voice and the look in his eyes.
“I’m the lucky one,” I admit. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to get to know the grandmother I thought I lost, even if she’s not the woman I remember.
“Normally my mom or I open the bar at ten, clean up, and do restock. The doors open at noon, and it’s normally slow until around four unless it’s summer; then you never know what will happen. Things can get out of hand every once in a while when we get out-of-towners, but for the most part, it’s locals who spend their time here, and they tend to be low-key.”
“Okay,” I reply, taking the folder from him when he hands it to me.
“That has the application for the job in it. I’m going to need you to fill that out then bring it back in with you tomorrow when you show up.”
“Sure,” I agree, leaning over and tucking it into my bag on the floor.
As I sit back, I notice he’s leaned forward once more with his elbows to his knees. This close, I can smell his scent of leather and mus
k and see his eyes aren’t just the dark brown I thought they were. They are brown with a warm golden color woven through.
“So what do you do during your free time?”
“I like knitting,” I say without thinking, and he leans back, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Knitting,” he repeats, making it sound almost dirty, and an image of him tying me up with soft yarn and having his way with me clouds my vision, making my cheeks heat.
“My grandma taught me. It’s relaxing,” I defend myself.
“Okay, Gia.” He continues to smile as he stands. “It was nice meeting you.”
Picking up my bag, I stand as well then scoot past him out the door, making sure to suck in as I go so I don’t accidently rub up against him.
“Nice meeting you too.” I look at him over my shoulder then squeak when the heel of my boot gets caught in the mat behind the bar. Reaching out for anything to save myself from doing a face-plant, I catch hold of something, only that something is one of the levers for the beer that is kept on tap. Pulling it down with me, beer goes everywhere, including all over me. “Oh, God,” I sputter out, trying to shut off the tap that now seems to be stuck.
“Christ,” Colton growls while picking me up by the waist and swinging me around to stand behind him. Shaking out my hands, I watch him as he shuts off the keg.
“I…” I close my eyes, wondering what the hell I can say to save myself from the embarrassment of this moment. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
Opening my eyes, I find him just as wet as I am. “If by okay you mean wanting to fall into a dark hole and die, sure, I’m okay,” I reply, and he looks at me, then at the mess I’ve created.
Shaking his head, he runs a hand through his hair. “You really are clumsy.”
“I know,” I agree, pulling my beer-soaked top away from my body. “Do you have a mop so I can clean this up?” I ask, and he laughs. It’s a great laugh—a deep laugh that does weird things to my insides.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “But first, let’s see about getting you dry.” He takes my elbow and pulls me along with him back into the office. Releasing me, he goes to a big cardboard box in the corner of the room where he digs out a T-shirt and hands it to me. “There’s a bathroom through that door.” He points at a door I didn’t notice before. “Go on.” He lifts his chin toward it.
Turning, I head for the door then stop and turn back to apologize again, almost swallowing my tongue when I do, because he’s in the process of taking off his shirt. And what’s under that shirt should be illegal. Lots and lots of tight muscle under smooth, glorious tan skin. “Gia, I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing for me.”
His words snap me back to reality and my face instantly burns so hot that I know you could probably cook an egg on it. “I’m… I’m going to go change.” I turn on my heels and make a beeline for the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I press my back against it. Natasha and I shouldn’t have toasted to cowboys; we should have toasted to hot guys who work at biker bars that leave you all tied up and discombobulated.
I strip out of my wet cami and sweater and place both of them on the back of the toilet that has a handwritten sign on it stating that it’s out of order, then turn on the water. Using hand soap and paper towels, I wash up, trying to remove the smell of beer off me. It’s impossible; it’s in my hair, on my pants, and in my shoes. I’m going to go home smelling like freshmen year of college.
Picking up the dry shirt, I pull it on over my head then turn to face the mirror. The shirt is for the Rusty Rose softball team, and apparently they have been undefeated three years in a row, which is pretty damn impressive. Tossing my beer-soaked tops into the sink, I rinse them off then wring them out as best as I can before leaving the bathroom. Colton isn’t in the office, thank God, but when I step out into the bar, he’s there with a woman and they are both using mops and towels to clean up the floor. Dropping my purse to the tops of the bar, I grab a couple of towels and start cleaning up.
Getting down on my hands and knees, I wipe back behind the kegs of beer and along the edge of the bar under the counter. After getting the rest of the beer off the bottom edge of where the glasses are kept, I stand up, pushing my hair out of my face, then blink at Colton and the woman staring at me. Looking at her, I know she’s his mom. They have the same dark eyes and lashes, and the same full lips.
“Um…” I look to the left then back at them. “I’m really, really sorry about the mess I made, and if you guys don’t want me to work here, I totally understand,” I say, wringing the towel in my hand and cringing as I wring out some of the beer onto the floor.
“You look just like her,” the woman says, making my stomach twist. Even though she didn’t say who she’s talking about, I still know all the same, since she has the same look in her eyes that my dad used to get. Like it was almost painful for him to look at me.
“Ma, this is Gia Caro,” Colton introduces, resting his hand on his mom’s shoulder. “Gia, my mom, Rose.”
“Nice to meet you.” I stick out my hand and her eyes drop to it before she looks at me once more. Shaking her head, she takes my hand in hers then pulls me in, making me stumble forward.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Gia. Excuse my manners from earlier.” She lets me go then takes my hands in hers. “I knew your mom, and seeing you just caught me off guard.”
“It’s all right,” I reassure her, and she releases the hold she has on my hands.
“Your mom and I were friends. Well, I guess your mom, dad, and I were friends, before they left town.”
“Really?” I ask, and she smiles softly at me then tips her head to the side as sadness fills her eyes.
“How’s your grandma doing?”
“She’s okay,”
“Good.” She pulls her eyes from me and looks up at her son briefly. “Colton said you’re starting tomorrow?”
My eyes go from her to the pile of wet bar towels on the floor and the mop sitting in a bucket full of dirty water. “That was the plan, as long as you still want me.”
“Not too many women are willing to get down on their hands and knees to clean the floor, honey. That right there shows me you’re not afraid of getting your hands dirty with a little hard work.”
“I’m not,” I confirm, and she smiles again.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be here in the morning and will go over everything that needs to be done before the doors open at noon. There’s not a long list of stuff to do, but what’s on that list does take time, since we don’t clean the bar after closing.”
“All right,” I agree, and she looks from me to Colton once more then back again.
“This is going to work out. I feel it in my gut. I’ll see you in the morning, Gia, and tell your grandma I said hi.” She smiles.
“I’ll tell her.” I smile back as she walks past me and into the office, closing the door behind her.
Grabbing my bag and clothes off the top of the bar, I carefully walk over the mat I tripped on earlier then out onto the main floor, avoiding looking at Colton as I go, since I apparently can’t control myself around him.
“See you around, Dimples,” he rumbles behind me.
My stomach flutters but I don’t turn around. I lift my hand and wave over my shoulder, hearing him laugh when I do.
As soon as I open the door, bright sunlight greets me, so I stop and dig through my bag for my sunglasses. After I find them at the bottom of my purse, I put them on and move to my Jeep, get in, start it up, and then head out of the parking lot for home.
As soon as I get to the house, I don’t go over to Nina and Ned’s place. I go inside Grandma’s and right for the shower so I can wash up. Once I’m out and dressed, I make my way across the yard and to Nina’s front door, knocking once.
She greets me with a smile as she opens the door. “How did the interview go?”
“It was good, really good. I start tomorrow.”
“Good, I knew Rose would
look out for you.” She steps aside and lets me in.
“How’s Grandma been this morning?” I ask, following her into the living room.
“She’s been okay. She was talking a little about your mom earlier, asking how she’s been and why she hasn’t called her.”
“Really?” I ask, stopping at the edge of the living room, where grandma’s sitting and watching The Price is Right on TV.
“I think having you here has brought up some memories.” She shrugs.
“I want to make an appointment to see her doctor. Do you know when the last time was that she went?”
“It’s been a while now, maybe six months. She sees a lady in Chattanooga. I’ll get you her number.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She looks from me to Grandma. “I was just going to make her something to eat. Do you want to stay for lunch?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, feeling guilty. Nina and Ned have both done so much and the more they do the guiltier I feel for not being here sooner.
“Darlin’, I know I don’t have to.” She turns and heads for the kitchen. Just like Grandma’s, it’s small, but unlike Grandma’s, it’s updated and so clean you could probably eat off the floor. Even with me cleaning and scrubbing Grandma’s place every day, it still needs a lot of work, and by that I mean it needs to be gutted and remodeled from the ground up. “I think it’s a grilled cheese and tomato soup kind of day. What do you think?” she asks, opening a cupboard and pulling down two cans of tomato soup.
“That sounds delicious,” I agree. “Do you want me to help?”
“I got this. Go on; I know you want to spend time with her.” She smiles, nodding to the door.
“Thanks.” I leave her in the kitchen and head out to the living room, where Grandma is still watching the television.
“Hey, Grandma,” I greet as I enter the room so I don’t scare her. At my words, her eyes come to me, and I can see—just like always—she’s trying to figure out who I am and what I’m doing there. “Nina is making us lunch,” I say, getting closer. “Are you hungry?”
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