As much fun as it was to watch him swim across the lake, the muscles of his powerful arms and back on full display with each stroke, I've got shit to do. I’m not the kind of woman who loses her mind over some muscles.

I'm not his type?

Fine.

Well, he’s not my type either.

Walking in just as he said it was less than enjoyable. As much as it sucks to admit, even if just to myself, it was the exact blow to my vanity I needed. I'm not here to flirt or be desirable.

Asher Thompson might be standing right in front of me but in my mind, he's already in my rearview mirror. Smiling at the thought, I give him my back now and walk back to his house. I could have brought him a towel. Hearing him dripping behind me makes me smile to myself that I didn't.

It's a warm day, but that lake water had to be freezing. Serves him right for being a dick.

If he's still dripping by the time we reach the back door he'll have to clean up the mess himself, I've already cleaned enough for the day. He walks close enough behind me to catch the door before it swings closed in his face. When I reach the island, I lean against it and motion toward the receipt.

Asher walks past me and into his room, coming out a couple moments later in dry clothes, his checkbook in hand. With a smooth motion, he sweeps the receipt up and examines it. A minute later, he pushes a now filled out check to me.

I don't look at it before shoving it into my pocket and walking out the door. He'd never shortchange me out of respect to my mom. Four hours of my time means eighty dollars toward my goal of getting out of here. Asher doesn't say goodbye, he's probably just as happy as I am that I'm leaving.

During my ride back into town I mentally add the eighty dollars I just made to what I've already saved up. I want at least three grand before I move. It’ll be another four weeks before my mom’s cast can come off. With working for Dana, and for Asher, I should have $2160 saved, that plus the $500 I had to start with still won't be enough.

Maybe I can talk Dana into giving me thirty-five hours a week instead of thirty. Even with that, I'll still be a couple hundred short.

As soon as I make it back into town, I pass my mom’s condo and drive straight to the local tavern. In a town this small, there's only a couple of bars. Neither of them are anything like the swanky nightclubs I used to hang out in. At this point, I don't care. My only goal is the end game.

Asher reminded me I have nothing here.

Not.

One.

Thing.

Why prolong my escape a single minute longer than I have to? As soon as my mom’s cast is off, I'm out of here. So what if I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to pour coffee, or clean the house of an asshole. I might as well add serve booze to the list.

The closer of the two bars I stop at isn't hiring. Undaunted, I drive to the other one. It’s not seedy, but it isn’t nice looking either.

Holding my purse tightly, I push open the front door and head right to the bar. Thankfully, the inside looks a lot nicer than the exterior. The bartender looks me over, his gaze lingering on my chest before he shouts for someone named Malcolm.

A man who I can only assume is Malcolm, struts out from a back room. He's tall, though not as tall or built as Asher. Though not wearing a suit, he is clean-shaven and regardless of the fact that he seems to run a less than seedy bar, he is attractive.

“She's interested in a waitressing job,” the bartender says, tipping his head toward me.

Malcolm's perusal of my figure is even more blatant than the bartender’s. I suppress a cringe.

He motions for me to come with him. “You'll need to fill out an application.”

It’s by sheer willpower alone that has me following him. I've been looked over by men before. Malcolm and the bartender weren't the first and I doubt they'll be the last. Let them look. Let them think things about me.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Malcolm asks after handing me an application.

“Will the answer affect me getting this job?” I ask.

He pulls out a chair for me. “No. But it will affect whether or not I ask you out.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not interested in dating anyone.”

I decide against telling him my plans to leave town in case it’ll dissuade him from hiring me.

Instead, I explain, “My mom was hurt in a fall. All of my free time is currently going to helping her get back on her feet.”

He leans back in his seat and winks at me. “In that case, I wish her a speedy recovery. I'll give you a few minutes to fill out the application. When you're done bring it to the bar.”

With my head tipped to the application, I roll my eyes. Few men can pull off a wink without looking sleazy. He might be good looking, but there's no way I’d ever go out with him. The application is a joke. The only real info it asks for is my contact information and my social for taxes, nothing about my previous employment or experience. As Malcolm asked, I walk back out to the bar with my completed application in hand.

“When can you start?” He asks, after I hand it to him.

“Tonight. I just need to check on my mom first, but that won't take long.”

He nods. “Come back at nine, and you'll get better tips if you show a little skin.”

I keep my annoyance at the thought of showing skin for tips to myself.

“See you then.” I try for a genuine smile but worry it’s as fake as it feels.

The weight of their stares as I leave feels like a physical press against my back. It lifts the moment the door swings closed behind me.

Money is money.

This won't be my last time waitressing.

As annoying as it is to be told to show skin, it's a quick way to make some serious cash.

If the tips are better, I'll wear a low cut V-neck shirt every night.

When I get back to mom’s, I'm surprised to find Asher’s mom and sister are still visiting with her. My mom and Mrs. Thompson are both sitting on the sofa that folds out into my bed, and Abby is perched on the armchair next to it.

“Are you alright?” She asks as I enter.

“Why wouldn't I be?” I reply, and then add, “Hello again,” to Mrs. Thompson and Abby.

“You were taking longer than normal at Asher’s. Was everything okay there?” She gives me no time to answer and says, “Daisy said Asher said some things that could have upset you.”

Great.

I slap on a fake grin. “Everything is great. I'm only late because I stopped to fill out an application at The Drunken Moose. I got hired and am starting tonight.”

“Tonight? Did you quit working for Dana?”

I shake my head. “I'm going to do both.”

Her eyes widen. “You're already dead on your feet when you finish the morning shift with Dana. You're going to kill yourself if you take on another job.”

“Who is Dana?” Abby asks, glancing between us.

“Dana owns that small coffee house up the road,” Daisy explains on my behalf.

Abby’s gaze fixes on me. “You're working there?”

She might seem nice but, sitting there in her fancy clothes I can feel the judgment in her question.

I lift my chin. “I am.”

Before she can say anything else, I excuse myself to take a shower so I can get all spiffed up for my first shift at the bar. Both Abby and Mrs. Thompson are gone by the time I'm done.

“Did you have a nice visit?” I ask my mom.

She ignores my question. “I'm not sure how I feel about you working there. It's not a nice place.”

“It's just a crappy bar,” I agree. “But don't worry, I can take care of myself.”

“Paige,” she warns.

I stop her before she gets going. “This isn't a new career path. It's a temporary gig that will help me earn some cash while I'm here. I had hoped between Dana and Asher I'd be able to make enough. Since that isn't the case, I needed a place I could work in the evening. Sadly, there aren't many options here.”

“You won't talk me out of worrying about you. Do you have any idea of what time you'll be home?”

“The bar closes at 1:30. I guess it depends on if I'll need to stay later to clean.”

Her lips part. “You wake up at five. When will you sleep?”

“If it's cool with you, I'm going to take a power nap now and finish getting ready right before I have to go.”

She takes the hint I intended and leaves me to sleep. This is only for the short term. As much as it sucks, nothing will ever be as humiliating as losing my business was.

Luckily, I fell asleep quickly but sadly, my nap is too short and soon my alarm is going off. I groan and roll out of bed to start getting ready. Staring at my reflection in the cramped bathroom, I stifle another yawn.

My mom peeks her head around the corner. “Want me to warm something up for you?”

One bonus to her kitchen being small is she's getting good at getting around it with only one crutch. I doubt she'll admit that to her doctor at her next checkup though. She's supposed to be taking it easy. For her, being trapped in the condo is as good as it gets.

I'm not that hungry but I know it'll make her feel better if I eat something. “Sure. Thanks Mom.”

Now, with my hair and makeup done, a stupid outfit that will hopefully help me get tips on, and a full belly, I'm ready to hit the road.

I give myself another head to toe glance in the mirror wondering if Asher Thompson would rethink his assessment if he saw me now. It doesn't matter that I don't even like him; I don’t like being so easily dismissed.

“I won't sleep a wink until you're home,” my mom grumbles as I walk past her.

“Mom, don't be dramatic. I'm not some young, naive twit. I'm thirty and used to live in one of the most populated cities on the planet. I'll be fine, plus I caved and reactivated my old cellphone so I’ll be able to call for help if I need it.”

She mutters something to herself but I let it go since I don't want to be late.

The lot is packed when I arrive at The Drunken Moose, the music loud enough to hear from inside the Explorer. Flipping down the mirror, I swipe on some lip gloss.

Then I remind myself that this is only temporary.

I remind myself that again as I pass the smokers’ porch. More than one guy out there tries to stop me. All I want to do is bum a cigarette off of one of them. Working here might make it even harder not to crave them.

I flash them all a bright smile just in case I might end up serving any of them later, and push open the door.

The same bartender I met earlier and Malcolm are both behind the bar.

He offers me his hand. “Hey, we didn’t get properly introduced before. I’m Dave.”

“Paige.”

He nods his head because obviously he already knew my name. “Here’s a list of the drink prices. Study it up and use it if you need to but memorize them quickly so you’re not staring at it when people are ordering drinks from you.”

“Got it.”

“This is Hope. For tonight you’re going to shadow her.”

A redhead approaches at his words. She can't be that much taller than me normally, but towers over me considering the spiked heels she's rocking. I thought I looked good when I left but, next to Hope I look like a Sunday school teacher.

Looking less than thrilled that I'm going to be tagging along after her, Hope says, “What's your name?”

I lift my chin. “Paige.”

She slides a piece of gum from one cheek to another, giving it a chomp halfway. “Ever waitressed before?”

I nod but decide against clarifying that it was at a restaurant, not a bar. She frowns before turning away from me and extending one manicured finger to point for me to follow. When she reaches a table, rather than standing next to it, she leans over it, planting one elbow on it and resting her chin on her palm. “Any of you guys need a fresh one?”

Two of the five men sitting and standing around the table lift their glasses in response.

One of the other men nods his head in my direction. “Who’s your friend?”

She straightens, standing tall as she swings an arm around my waist to pull me close to her and closer to the table. “This here is the new girl, Paige. Isn't she pretty?”

Most of them nod. One takes a drink of his beer while staring at me. “You new in town?”

I smile, trying not to be weirded out that Hope went from indifferent to my pretend best friend in zero time. “I am.”

He offers me his hand, “I'm Jerry. I'd be happy to show you around.”

Hope bats his hand away and looks at me. “Trust me. Only place this one will show you is his parents’ basement.”

While his friends all groan and chuckle or say, “Damn Jerry,” Hope gives him a sweet smile.

He pushes back his chair to stand, circling the table to get close to her. “I thought you liked my parents’ basement?”

She traces the edge of his jaw with her fingertip. “You must have me confused with someone else.”

He puckers his lips and she surprises me by pressing into him and kissing him quickly.

She turns and he loops his arms around her waist. “This is my husband Jerry and his goofy friends.”

Interesting.

When he offers me his hand I shake it and Hope steps out of his arms and motions back to the guys around the table. “These guys hang out most nights to make sure whoever is working gets to their car safe after their shift. They are total goofs but good guys.”

Wow. That's cool of them.

I smile at everyone again, this time grinning.

Hope and I go to collect their drinks. As cold as she was when we met, she warms up quickly. While I shadow her, she gives me a rundown of the different sections and tips for dealing with overly friendly customers.

Before it's time for me to go on my own, she says, “Malcolm is a smooth talker. Trust me, you don't want to get mixed up with him.”

“I don't have the time or the desire to get mixed up with anyone.”

She gives me a weary look that somehow says, you'll find time.

I don't have a chance to convince her otherwise as more people come into the bar. It's so busy, I spend the next couple of hours working my ass off. As I deliver another round of drinks I can't help but wonder how Hope would have managed all these tables on her own.

Them needing help was probably the reason I was hired on the spot. My feet start to ache right in the center of my arch even though I'm wearing flats. How Hope isn't in the fetal position crying her eyes out given the heels she's wearing is beyond me.

I had worried wearing flats might negatively impact my tips, and that I needed to be sexier to get good ones when I saw her. That's proving not to be an issue. Apparently, my height is adorable and these guys all like to stand next to me to see how many of them can rest their arms on the top of my head.

They all get a big kick out of it each time I knock their arms off my head. It's annoying as hell but since they're having fun they're tipping pretty well. I suppose I can put up with the short jokes if it means cash in my wallet.

“What are you doing when you get off?” Malcolm asks as he fills an order for me.

“I'm passing out. I have to be up early for my other job,” I reply, praying it will discourage him.

“I saw you listed Dana’s place on your application. Do you work there every day?”

“Sure do,” I nod and reach for the drafts.

His hands cover mine. “You could quit that place with what you'd make here.”

There's a suggestion that seems self-serving in his words. Considering the cash now sitting in the pocket of my apron, he has a point. Still, I'd quit this place before Dana’s in a heartbeat.

Sure, Hope turned out to be cool and her husband and his friends seem nice, I've learned late nights and bar scenes aren't for me.

“I'm fine, thanks,” I reply.

He drops his hands and I shift the beers onto my tray. After I deliver them, and pocket a buck tip from each of the guys who ordered one, I scan my section and see I have a loner at a table toward the back. Tucking my tray under my arm, I make my way over to him. A few feet from the table I stop dead when I recognize its occupant.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Asher Thompson.

His gaze travels over my bare legs to the v cut of my top before landing on my face. “Abby called me and told me you were working here.”

Who knew Asher was a gossip.

“And?” I ask.

He frowns, leaning forward. “And she said you're already working at Dana’s in the mornings.”

“So?”