What was that saying? Fake it until you make it, right?
I would make it. Make it my mission. Make sure my heart never chased after an unrequited love ever again. Especially one with the name of Conley Logan.
I need new friends.
That was my first thought crawling out of bed after a long, sleepless night. Thanks to them, I’d spent most of it replaying those private moments with Conley: the car ride to her place, walking her to her door, offering her a job. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she crawled under my skin so effortlessly, the way she challenged me at every turn, the way her hips swung like a pendulum, counting down to the inevitable moment I’d lose all control and tell her everything.
The blinding morning sun penetrated through the window over the kitchen sink. I rubbed the heel of my palm over my tired eyes as I yawned and walked into the room. Feeling only half-alive, I trudged over the porcelain floor, the cool tiles under my bare feet helping to wake me.
I snatched a bowl and spoon from the dishwasher, then opened the cabinet that held the cereal.
“By the looks of ya, I’m guessing you learned Conley Logan was back in town,” Pops said from behind me, his eyes roaming over the black and white print of the Billingsley Daily Buzz. I hadn’t even noticed him sitting at my kitchen table.
I grunted and opened the fridge, searching for the milk. Apparently, I needed a new father, too. “Thanks for the heads up. You could’ve warned me.”
It didn’t surprise me he already knew. Since he’d retired, legally signing over the bar to me, he’d spent most of his days drinking coffee with a few of his friends at Kathy’s Cafe. They had a table in the old diner that was permanently reserved for their little crew of four. They’d ramble on about anything and everything, from the weather, to sports, to the rumors around town. They were about as bad as the group of women often referred to as the gossip squad in our town.
“Now, what would be the fun in that?” He flicked his wrists, straightening the newspaper in his hands as he continued to scan over the sports page.
“I didn’t realize you found my misery humorous.”
He chuckled behind his paper. “Ah, come on, now. I thought you’d be excited to see the Logan girl. Thought you two had history.”
“Not the kind of history you think,” I grumbled, pouring the cereal into the bowl followed by the milk. With the bowl in hand, I walked to the table and took the seat across from him. Nodding toward his plate, I asked, “Something wrong with the food in your own house?”
It didn’t really bother me he’d shown up here, letting himself in, and only made enough breakfast for himself. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. He came here for the quiet company, not wanting to feel so alone every day. It was a silent arrangement we both benefited from.
Pops lowered the newspaper, folding it and setting it to the side. Ignoring my question, knowing I was only trying to avoid the current topic, he picked up his fork to take a bite of his eggs and asked, “So, how’d she look?”
Gorgeous.
I forced a casual shrug as if I’d barely noticed her. “Same. I guess.”
I felt him watching me as he chewed, analyzing, searching for the truth behind my carefully delivered response. “Rumor has it, she needs a job.”
“I heard.”
“And?”
“And what?” I said before shoveling a heaping spoonful of cereal into my mouth.
He took his own bite, then carefully placed his fork on his plate. He leaned back in his chair as he finished chewing. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he released a heavy sigh. “And you could use the help at the bar.”
“I’ve got it handled,” I grated. It didn’t matter I’d already offered her the job. I didn’t need one more person telling me how to run the bar…even if it was my dad. The man who’d built Dudley’s from the ground up and named it after his own father. The bar had been both of their dreams. Not mine.
“I’m sure you do. I have no doubt you can handle things, or I wouldn’t have handed over the reins. But son, you will run yourself into the ground if you don’t learn to trust others to help you and take some time for yourself.”
“You never did.”
“And I regret every minute of that. Maybe if I had, your mother would’ve…” He looked down at his plate, his words trailing off with his thoughts.
He didn’t need to finish his sentence. We both knew what he was about to say. Maybe if he’d taken some time off and away from the bar, my mother would’ve stuck around. No matter how much he’d convinced himself that was the reason she left, I knew better. No mother abandoned her son because her husband was too busy working. There was more to the story—a story we would likely never hear. I was fine with that. I didn’t need or want her in my life.
Shaking his head, he looked back up at me with a mixture of remorse and worry in his eyes. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”
I nodded. “I hear ya, pops. And don’t worry. I won’t… I’m smarter than you.” I grinned, needing to lighten the mood for the both of us. It was too early to have this heavy of a conversation. Especially with me still reeling from the knowledge Conley Logan was back in town and here to stay.
He grunted a half-chuckle, picking up his fork once again. “More talented, maybe. Not so sure about smarter. I may be old, but that only means I’m wiser.”
“That saying has as much truth to it as the promises of politicians. It was only contrived to make old people feel better about aging.”
The loud, gruff laugh bursting from his chest had me chuckling with him. As our laughter faded, we slipped back into our usual morning routine of light conversation about sports and the bar while finishing our breakfast.
“Hey, Tim, you got a visitor.”
I looked over my shoulder at Alex, one of my weekend bar-backs, his head peeking through the door opening.
“Who is it?” I asked. I wasn’t expecting anyone and needed to finish checking all the kegs before our Friday night rush.
“Not sure. She’s hot, though.”
I rolled my eyes at his toothy grin and turned back to the keg I’d been in the middle of swapping out. The kid was fresh out of high school, and spent more time flirting with all the women who were too old for him than he spent doing the job I paid him for. It’s probably why I was in the weeds half the time. “I’ll be right out.”
I closed the walk-in fridge, then picked up a rag to rid the moisture from my palms. I turned the corner from the back room where we housed the walk-in coolers, my eyes immediately landing on the nervous woman at the bar. She hadn’t bothered to sit, which told me this wasn’t a social visit. Since she hadn’t noticed my arrival, I watched her as she took in the bar as if she were seeing it for the first time. Her eyes traveled along one length of the room, over the tables of varying heights surrounding the concrete dance floor in the center, to where I had pool tables and darts tucked in the back near the jukebox. From there, they moved to the stage that anchored the space, where they lingered.
“Conley. What can I do for you?” I asked, tossing the towel aside and keeping my voice level to hide my surprise at seeing her. It’d been weeks since I’d driven her home and offered her a job.
Her eyes flicked my direction, as if I’d caught her off guard. “I wanted to talk to you…” She buried her hands in the back pockets of her jeans—a nervous habit she’d had since I’d known her—scanning the nearly empty bar before meeting my eyes. “About the job.”
“The job,” I crossed my arms, working to keep my reaction impassive. “I got the impression you didn’t want it.”
She let out an exhausted sigh. “Can you not make this any harder for me than it already is?”
For the hundredth time since she’d walked through my door over a week ago, I felt like an asshole. I figured making her hate me would be for the best, but if I was honest, I hated to see her this way—uncomfortable in my presence. “Can you start tonight?�
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She relaxed slightly, giving me a relieved half-smile. “Yes.”
“You’ll have to get your TABC license as soon as possible. I’ll have info on the course for you when you get here.”
“Okay. I can do that. Thank you.”
“Be here at four. Melanie will train you.”
“Melanie?”
“Yeah. Is that a problem?” I watched her closely, wondering why she’d have any problem with Melanie. The other night, I’d thought she might’ve been jealous of her. But that made little sense. Melanie was a cute girl in her late twenties, a hard worker, one of my best. But Conley wasn’t the petty type. She’d never been one of those girls to attack other girls out of pure jealousy.
“No. I just thought…”
I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.
“Nothing.” She shook her head as if ridding it of the thoughts inside. “Four. Training with Melanie. TABC. Got it. Dress code?”
The dress code was casual. We didn’t have uniforms. I allowed everyone to wear what they were comfortable in. Many of the girls wore what would get them better tips. Thoughts of Conley dressed in skimpy shorts and another revealing tank as she flirted with customers had my jaw working. What the hell had I been thinking offering her this job?
“I’ll get you a shirt.”
“Okay. But I…” She started to say more and then bit down on her bottom lip.
“What?” I asked, trying not to think about how sexy she looked in that moment. In every damn moment.
“Nothing…it’s just…I don’t remember seeing everyone wearing matching shirts the other night.”
I shrugged. “That was a one-off. Casual Thursdays. Weekends everyone wears Dudley’s shirts.” What the hell was I saying? It’s like I couldn’t stop the lies from coming out of my mouth. I’d either have to force everyone to wear a Dudley’s shirt tonight or fess up to Conley that I’d just lied to keep other guys from gawking at her tits.
“Okay,” she conceded. “Can I get that shirt, then?”
“Sure. Give me a second.” I walked to the back, grabbing one of the T-shirts we had in stock as merch for customers. When I returned, her eyes traveled to the shirt as I passed it over the bar to her.
“This is a large. I need a small,” she said, looking at the tag inside the collar.
“It’s all I’ve got,” I lied again. I hadn’t really considered about checking the size before grabbing one. I could’ve run back and grabbed her a small, but that would just mean a tighter fit. Large and baggy was safer for my sanity.
I waited for her to call me out on all my lies. She didn’t. It was the game we played. Always. Instead, she took a step back, slinging the shirt over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to make it work. See you tonight.” She turned on her heels without another word. I watched her ass as she left, only snapping out of it when I noticed a hand clap my shoulder.
“So, who’s the hottie?” Alex asked, his eyes also glued to her swaying hips as they walked out the door.
I turned to look at him, shoving him away. “She’s out of your league, junior.”
“She’s out of yours, too.”
No shit. I glared at him.
“Besides, doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
“Keep your eyes and hands to yourself. She’s a new employee and there’s no hooking up with staff,” I warned, headed to the storage room once again.
“Since when?” he asked, his steps right on my heels.
“Since now,” I said, grabbing another Dudley’s shirt from the shelf, and tossing it at his chest. “And put that on. It’s mandatory uniform from now on.”
He looked down at the balled-up fabric in his hands, then shrugged. “A’ight.” In one swift move, he’d taken off his shirt, then pulled the other over his head.
I nodded, glad he hadn’t questioned me any further, though I knew the others would probably put up more of a fight. Especially the girls. They weren’t going to like this one bit. “Make sure everyone gets a shirt when they clock in.”
“Will do, boss.”
5
Conley
The oversized, black Dudley’s shirt Tim gave me might as well have been one of my grandma’s muumuus she used to wear around the house. The only thing missing was the zipper down the front and the colorful floral pattern.
“Seriously?” I groaned as I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door.
The shirt hung loosely over my dark skinny jeans, the bottom of it nearly touching the holes at my knees. Gathering the excess material at my waist, I twisted and tied it in a knot, just above my belly button. I rolled the sleeves, then gave myself one last inspection. Knowing there was little else I could do to make this shirt look good, I relented with a sigh, turning to grab my phone from the nightstand.
Dismissing another missed call from Bobby’s PR rep, I tucked the phone in my back pocket as I walked out the door, locking it behind me. I didn’t need Bobby or anyone associated with him getting in my head my first night on the job. It’d been hard enough for me to walk into Dudley’s earlier and ask Tim if I could still have it. I’d spent the last few weeks exhausting my options while volunteering with my dad at the church.
Unfortunately, there was limited work available that wasn’t merely minimum wage. At least working at Dudley’s, I had the potential to make more by earning tips.
Walking through the doors of Dudley’s, the vibrant chatter and loud music welcomed me. I scanned the large, open room for Melanie. She was at a table, smiling and laughing with the three guys who sat there. She was wearing her Dudley’s shirt, though hers actually fit her and the hem had been trimmed, creating a crop top. Looking around at the other employees, they all had made various alterations to their shirts.
Not wanting to be awkward or interrupt, I headed to wait by the bar for Melanie as she finished up with her table. The lanky kid from earlier smiled from behind it as I approached. He’d changed from the shirt I’d seen him in previously.
Shame flipped and tumbled in my chest for originally thinking Tim hadn’t been telling me the truth about the dress code. I’d assumed maybe he was only making me wear it as some sort of payback for whatever it was he was angry with me about.
“Hey, you’re the new girl, right?” he asked, saddling a bar rag over his shoulders as he gripped each end, his eyes unashamedly dropping to my exposed waist.
“Uh, yeah.” A grin tugged at my lips. His attention was unwanted, but semi-amusing. I’m sure that smile of his worked on younger girls. He was cute—in a kid-brother kind of way. He couldn’t be much older than my own. “I’m Conley.” I stepped closer to the bar, resting my arms on top.
“Alex,” he reciprocated, his smile stretching wider. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”
“Yep. Looks that way…” I glanced over my shoulder, hoping Melanie was close to finishing up. She was still busy teasing and flirting with one guy, her angelic laughter ringing over the music as she placed a hand on his shoulder. I turned back to Alex. “So, is there somewhere I need to clock in?”
“Yep. On the POS”—he tipped his head toward the computer at the end of the bar—"but you’ll need to get set up with boss man first.”
“Is he around?”
“Somewhere. Try his office.” He gestured with his thumb pointing behind him. “It’s in the back corner of the storage room.” He slid the towel from his shoulders and wiped an already clean spot on the shiny surface between us.
“Thanks, Alex,” I said, shoving off the bar. The song playing through the surround sound was muffled as I pushed through the swinging door. Stepping around half-opened boxes and passing by rows of storage racks, I slowly made my way to the small room in the corner, hoping the knots growing in my stomach would dissipate.
The door with black, chipped paint stood slightly ajar, shielding Tim from my view. I rapped my knuckles on the hollow door while pushing it open a little wider and taking a single step
inside the room.
Tim lifted his gaze from the scattered papers covering the desk surface, his hair sexily mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. He met my eyes for the briefest moment before his eyes slid down, making a glacial pace over me—my lips, my breasts, pausing at the bared skin of my waist the same way Alex’s had. Unlike Alex’s perusal, though, I wasn’t left feeling unaffected and mildly amused.
The knots in my stomach heated like hot briquettes of charcoal. I resisted the urge to clamp my thighs together and focused on calming the erratic beating of my heart. The air weighted with a renewed possibility—a thrill. One I hadn’t felt since I was fifteen years old and Tim had invited me to check out his garage band one hot summer day. Having had a longtime crush on him, I’d gone hoping Tim had finally been interested in me. He hadn’t made a single move, though. He’d barely said hello. Instead, it was Bobby showering me with non-stop attention. I flirted back, hoping to spark some kind of jealousy in Tim. It was stupid and immature. I know that now. And when it didn’t work, I finally realized he’d only asked me there for his friend.
“Do I pass?” I asked, shoving my hands into my back pockets, hoping he hadn’t caught the nervous edge in my voice.
Those metallic gray eyes flicked back to mine, before dropping to the papers once again. “Pass what?” he asked, shuffling them around, seemingly uninterested in having any kind of conversation with me.
“Your inspection.” I glanced down at my shirt. “I assume you don’t mind, since most the servers out there have made their own modifications.”
“Did you bring your driver’s license and Social Security card?” he asked, refusing to acknowledge a word I said.
I rolled my eyes and took the few steps to his desk, making myself at home in one of the metal folding chairs across from him, since he hadn’t bothered to offer.
“Yes. They’re in my purse in the car.”
“You left your purse in the car?” He looked up at me, the line of his lips as stern and unwavering as the rest of him.
Tempting Tim: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (Billingsley Book 4) Page 5