I was a nervous wreck as I parallel-parked outside Deacon’s bar. With how my hands shook and my heart rattled against my rib cage, you’d have thought I barely knew the guy instead of him being one of my oldest friends.

Pulling in a fortifying breath, I killed the engine and grabbed the door handle as I quietly gave myself a pep talk.

“You can do this, Fee,” I muttered as I pushed the car door open. The chill of the winter night air hit my face like a thousand tiny needles, making me suck in a quick breath. “You got this. The ball’s in your court. Go in there and get your friend back.”

God, I hated that word. Friend. As far as I was concerned, it was on par with pap smear or gluten free or Lord Voldemort. I didn’t want to be Deacon’s friend, but I had to accept what I could get, and having him as a friend was absolutely better than nothing at all. Besides, it was my own damn fault that I’d lost out on a chance at being more with him in the first place. I couldn’t blame him for being unwilling to go there again. I’d hurt him twice already. I was lucky he wanted anything to do with me at all.

That was why I was currently standing outside his bar. I was the one who’d broken us, so I needed to be the one to take the first steps in healing our relationship.

Pushing the door of The Black Sheep open, I moved into the warm, bustling bar and out of the cold. I loved Deacon’s bar. I’d been there as a friend of the family the day it opened, and a few times in passing after that, but with how strained our friendship had become after Grayson and I started dating, I hadn’t felt welcome enough to show up regularly.

Things had shifted last year after I was part of a charity auction put on by Sophia, Daphne, and Lola for their radio show. I’d finally gotten my friend back after years of him keeping a distance, and I’d become a steady regular at The Black Sheep during that time.

Unfortunately it didn’t last long, what with Deacon declaring his feelings for me and me pushing him away because I was scared. I’d been blindsided at the time, having only just gotten him back. I handled the situation poorly, and the result was losing him all over again.

This time I couldn’t make the same mistakes.

I’d missed that bar almost as much as I’d missed him during our time apart. He’d taken what was once a hole in the wall and turned it into a thriving hot spot. It was one of the places to see and be seen in Seattle. Hence the reason it was nearly standing room only on a Thursday night.

I pushed my way through the crowd toward the massive U-shaped bar at the back, knowing that was where he’d be. If he wasn’t in the back office doing paperwork, he was slinging drinks for thirsty customers. He loved being behind the bar. He thrived there—it was obvious to me from all the times I’d sat my ass on one of those stools and watched him in his zone.

The line of waiting patrons was three deep as I slowly advanced forward. It wasn’t until I managed to find a break in the crowd to the far left that I caught sight of him. He and another guy worked in tandem to fill orders. His hands were a blur of motion as he made multiple cocktails at once and collected money from outstretched hands.

Resting my elbows on the bar top, I settled in and enjoyed the show of Deacon at work. I was totally content to bide my time until he made his way in my general direction, but it didn’t take long to get his attention. As if sensing my presence, Deacon’s head came up and turned. His eyes landed on me instantly, and the smirk on his lips sent a tremor through me.

“Hey!” I called loud enough for him to hear me over all the noise.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

I leaned in closer so he could hear me better. “Just stopping by.” I scanned the people around me and noticed the crowd had grown even thicker. “Jeez, it’s a madhouse in here tonight.”

Deacon lifted his arm to push his over-long hair back, causing his muscled bicep to strain the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, tell me about it. And we had a waitress call in sick at the last minute, so we’re short staffed. It’s been a bitch of a night so far.”

I stood from my hunched-over position and made my way behind the bar. “So put me to work,” I demanded.

His chin jerked back in surprise. “What?”

I scanned the area and quickly found the aprons. Grabbing one, I tied it around my waist while looking back at Deacon. “Put me to work. You’re short staffed, it’s chaos, and I can help. So let me.”

The sight of his warm smile did crazy things to my lady bits. “Fee, I’m not making you wait tables.”

Slapping my hands on my hips, I scowled hard. “Why not? You know I have experience.” And that was true. Despite my family being loaded, my folks had been pretty hardcore when it came to teaching me responsibility. They paid for my tuition and living expenses, but if I wanted money to go out or buy new clothes, I had to get a job. I didn’t mind. I actually liked working for what I wanted, so I took jobs waitressing all throughout college.

“I know you do, sweetheart, but you aren’t here to work for me. You’re here to relax and have a drink, not serve them to other people. Besides”—he did a full body scan of me that made my skin burn—“you’re in heels. You can’t wait tables in heels, babe.”

Ignoring the warm, gooey feeling in my belly I got from him calling me sweetheart and babe, I pushed forward. “Deac, I basically grew up in heels. I could run a marathon in these babies,” I said, lifting one of my Alexander McQueen–clad feet. Okay, so that wasn’t totally true. Yes, the shoes pinched toes a bit, but I’d manage. The studded booties were absolutely to die for, and cost a serious mint, but this opportunity was serendipitous. It gave me the chance to show Deacon I cared and wanted to be there for him. I wasn’t going to let a stupid pair of shoes hinder my ability to help a friend in his time of need.

With a rich chuckle that shot warmth through my chest, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. You want to help, you can help. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I gave him a salute and a sarcastic “You got it boss. Now point me to my section.”

He handed me a tray and guided me to the section of tables I’d be working for the next several hours. Then I was off.

* * *

“One Jack and Coke. One seven and seven. And two cosmos.” I finished calling off the orders I’d scribbled on my note pad and looked up at Deacon as he started on my drinks.

“You ready to admit defeat yet?” he asked with a smug grin.

“Pfft, please,” I scoffed. “This is a cakewalk.”

It wasn’t. It really freaking wasn’t. I’d been at it for four hours and I wanted to die. No, first I wanted to hunt down the asshole who designed my shoes and plant one up his ass—then I wanted to die. But I’d be damned if I let Deacon see any of that. I was determined to be the best damn friend that existed in the history of ever.

His lips quirked with a suppressed grin. “You sure about that? ’Cause you started limping pretty bad about an hour ago.”

I glared at him across the bar top. “Just fill my damn order.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he said with a laugh and a salute. I settled the drinks on my tray and carefully teetered toward my last table. It was late and only a few stragglers remained. I set the glasses down, smiled a friendly smile at the two couples who sat at the four-top, pocketed my tip, and headed back to the bar.

“Last call!” Deacon shouted just as my ass hit the empty barstool in front of him.

“Oh thank God,” I mumbled before I could catch myself.

Deacon burst into laughter, and I got so caught up in watching his already handsome face get even more handsome that I forgot all about my poor aching feet. Humor dripped thick from his voice as he asked, “Still think this is a cakewalk?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled.

He moved around behind the bar, pouring vodka into a glass over ice and squirting something into it with the well gun. He finished off with a squeeze of lime, then shoved another wedge onto the rim and slid it in my direction. “Vodka tonic. Drink and take a load off. Sherry can close out your last table before she clocks out,” he said, talking about the other waitress who’d worked the floor tonight. She was a sweet girl waitressing her way through college, who seemed to be in a perpetually happy mood in spite of spending the entire night running her ass off, fetching drinks. It probably helped that she was wearing waitressing-friendly footwear.

“Thanks,” I muttered across the rim of the glass before slugging some back. The cool, refreshing liquid slid down my throat, then settled into a soothing pool of warmth in my belly.

I’d finished my drink by the time Sherry made it to the bar, having finished up with the last customer who’d just headed out the door.

“You’re a lifesaver, Fiona. I probably would’ve passed out halfway through my shift if it wasn’t for you.”

I smiled up at the bubbly blonde. “Happy to help. Oh, and here you go.” I pulled the wad of cash that had been my tips for the night out of my pocket and extended it her way. “This should be yours.”

“Oh no! I can’t take that. You worked your butt off. You earned those tips, babe.”

I pushed the bills into her hand and closed her fingers around them. “I just did it to help out a friend.”

By the way she bit her lip and stared at the cash with hesitant yet hopeful eyes, I knew she needed it a lot more than I did. I could appreciate how important tips were when working your way through school.

“Seriously, babe. I’m good. I don’t need it.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely,” I answered with a resolute nod.

She let out a little squeal and jerked me into a hug. “You’re totally the best, Fee! You feel like doing this again, make sure Deacon puts you on with me. I loved working with you.”

I couldn’t help but beam at the compliment. “You got it.”

Sherry handed everything to Deacon so he could close her out, then took off shortly after with an exuberant wave as the door closed behind her, leaving Deacon and I totally alone for the first time in over a year. Thanksgiving hadn’t counted since we had the buffer of Evie between us.

“So,” I started, suddenly feeling all kinds of awkward. “I should probably head out and let you finish up for the night.”

I pushed up from the stool just as Deacon spoke. “Nah, stay. Keep me company.”

I wanted to do exactly that. I bit my cheek to prevent my over-excitement from shining through as I asked, “You sure? I don’t want to get in your way.”

Those deep chocolaty eyes of his hit me, and he winked. “I’m sure. After I’m done, maybe we can shoot some pool. Give you a chance to win back some of that money you lost to me growing up.”

I shot daggers from my eyes and declared, “Oh, you’re so on. And you only ever beat me because you’re a cheat. I could totally kick your ass at pool now.”

The whites of his perfectly straight teeth flashed as he smiled. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Oh yeah, we totally will.