Chapter 17

Melissa

None of the staff from last night were on shift when I first got into work, which was a small blessing. I wouldn't have minded Naomi so much, especially since she really stepped up for me when I needed her and I owed her for that, but I could do without the questions of any of the other girls who'd been around when everything went down with Donnie. It was bad enough that I was probably going to be questioned by the customers, and definitely by my boss.

I put my stuff away in the back without running into Hank, though I could tell he was in because there was light showing under the crack of his door. That was a problem for another time. I went right to work behind the bar, catching up with the regulars and trying to seem as cheery as possible.

A little over half an hour into my shift, Hank came out from the back hallway and gestured for me to follow him back to his office. Dread settled in my stomach like a lead weight, but I tossed my bar towel by the sink and went down to accept my fate. If he was going to fire me, so be it, but I wouldn't be going down without a fight.

"Hey Hank," I said cheerily when I entered his office.

"Don't Hey Hank me." His mouth flattened into a sour line. "Sit."

I took a seat across from his desk, squeezing my hands into fists out of his line of view.

"Things got fucked up last night," Hank said, scratching his head. "And from what I hear, you had front row seats."

"Are you referring to when your nephew and his friends nearly killed someone in your parking lot?"

Hank narrowed his eyes. "From what I hear, the guy who got knocked out was also the one who challenged Donnie to a fight in the first place. Is that true?"

I ground my teeth. "Technically, yes."

"And I also hear you’re what they were fighting over. Is that true?"

"Where are you going with this?" I was getting irritated now. "Are you going to fire me or what? I've got customers out there."

"Fire you?" Hank shook his salt and pepper head, laughing lightly to himself. "Donnie would love that, I'm sure. He's all worked up about whatever happened between you two, but I'm staying out of it."

"Then why did you pull me in here?"

Hank sighed, leaning back in his chair and fixing me with an appraising look. I let some of my hair fall in front of my bruised eye, though I knew he could still see it. Having everyone look at me piteously was taking some getting used to and I couldn't wait for the day my face was healed. After that, I'd never let it get beat up again if I could help it.

"I'm glad you broke up with him," Hank said after a moment. "I know, I know, I said I was staying out of it and I am, but for what's it's worth I would be on your side if I were taking one. That being said..." His mouth slid into an almost apologetic smile. "I can't have any drama in my bar. Not more than the usual, I mean. I know it would be near impossible to avoid Donnie in this place, and I don't expect you to do that, but I do expect you to keep things wrapped up. If there's another big scene like we had up in here last night, I'm gonna have to fire you."

"Your honesty is appreciated," I replied. "Don't suppose there's any way you could have a similar chat with your nephew?"

Hank let out a barking laugh. "It wouldn't matter if I sat him down for a goddamn presentation with a quiz at the end and everything. That boy will do what he wants, and it's not my business or responsibility to set him right. Family is family."

I sucked in a breath, trying not to blow my fuse when Hank was offering me a clear olive branch. This was nearly the best-case scenario for how this situation could've played out, but I was still profoundly frustrated. Donnie got everything he wanted and nobody ever told him no. Not even his uncle, who low key despised the little prick. It didn't matter that I was the one sporting bruises down to my soul thanks to him or that he wouldn't have felt an ounce of guilt if he had gone too far and killed Jack last night. Everybody let Donnie get away with it because it was easier than trying anything else.

"Fine," I said. At least I got to keep my job. "If he's even a little rude to me though, I'm just going to walk away. If I don't remove myself from the situation I could snap and I don't want to cause a scene in your bar."

He shrugged. "Don't care. Walking away is fine, it's the staying and yellin' I want to avoid."

I wanted to add that he didn't mind yelling when it was his other customers or that we had a reputation as being a fairly wild and rowdy bar. I suspected Hank had been contacted by Donnie's parents and was given strict instructions not to let their son make a fool out of them. If so, I wished I could tell them it was too late.

"You better be getting back to work," Hank announced, slapping his leg and sitting upright. "Go make me lots of money."

I left his office, irritation sizzling just below the surface. None of this was fair. He should be warning his nephew to stay out of the bar, not telling me that my ass was on the line if something should happen. I was the victim here. Now that I'd finally accepted that fact, it was extra frustrating to be treated any other way. Not that I wanted to be victimized or anything, but I wouldn't have minded a little bit of respect.

I headed straight back to the bar, but the hulking man in one of the side booths caught my attention. He wasn't just any hulking man—he was my hulking man. I changed course and headed straight for him.

Jack had showered since I saw him last and his hair was still damp. He'd shaved too, and looked so fresh that I could almost look past the cuts and bruises to the Armani model underneath. Not that I needed to look past his rough edges to see just how freaking sexy he was. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and I felt bad. It was my fault he was here without any other clothes or possessions, and I made a mental note to run out in the morning to pick him up a couple new shirts to show him how much it meant to me.

"Hey handsome," I greeted, resting my hand on my hip. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Jack smiled. "I was hungry," he said. "And I knew for a fact I'd find something delicious here."

"Only the best."

"Don't I know it." He added a flirty wink at the end and heat seared my core.

I was about one saucy comment away from crawling up onto his lap and kissing that smile right off his face, but that was surely another kind of scene Hank was hoping to avoid.

Instead, I opted for something a little less steamy. "Have you ordered yet? Who's helping you?"

"Uh, no. And nobody yet." He shrugged. "I don't think I'm very popular around here."

I shot a glance over my shoulder just in time to catch Gerry, the server who was supposed to be working this section, look away. She was standing by the bar, chatting with one of the regulars, a bussing tray balanced on her hip. If she was too busy to take Jack's order I would eat my hat.

"My apologies for the shitty service," I replied. "First drink's on the house. You must be pretty hungry, too."

He caught my eye and grinned. "Ravenous."

Now how the hell was I supposed to get anything done with him making my brain turn to goo with just one word like that? It wasn't fair.

"I'll get you a menu."

Before I could turn around, Jack called, "No need. I know what I want."

I cocked a quizzical brow. "From the menu?"

The look in his eyes could be considered nothing less than smoldering. I swallowed hard and wondered if anybody would notice if I pulled up a stool behind the bar for the rest of the night. Never mind getting anything done—how the hell was I supposed to stay standing when he looked at me like that?

"Just a burger and fries," he said. "For now."

"Righty-roo."

I turned away from Jack just in time for him to miss the flash of scarlet on my face, a side effect from saying something as stupid as "righty-roo". I couldn't help myself. Was it normal for someone to react to another person this much? We'd barely talked and now I was too hot and bothered to dive straight back into work. I dropped off his order at the kitchen, intending to hang out there for a second while I had a nice cold drink of water, and ran into Gerry on the way.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" I asked.

The willowy brunette grabbed her order from the window, her fluorescent pink nails standing out against the white porcelain. She had the gall to look offended.

"What are you talking about?"

"You left a customer sitting out there without even so much as a menu for god knows how long. I ended up having to take his order."

Gerry thrust her nose in the air. "I don't have to serve nobody I don't want to if I'm worried about my health and wellbeing. That guy's no good."

I rolled my eyes. "Worried about your health and wellbeing? That's a crock of shit."

"Don't you swear at me like that," she snapped. "I heard about what happened between that guy and Donnie. Poor thing. The last thing I want is to encourage him to keep coming here. If you've got a problem, take it up with Hank."

It took me a second to realize that Donnie was the "poor thing" in this equation. At least, according to Gerry.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder—hair that should have been tied up—and waltzed out of the kitchen. I glared at her sourly, wishing I could take this to Hank without him throwing me out of his office.

This small-town life was killing me. It might take five years or it might take fifty, but eventually stagnating in this backwater, with its petty drama and blatant nepotism, was going to be the end of me.