Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“After, not now, we are going to discuss that.” He points at the calendar where I wrote my message in big letters. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“You’ll love it,” I say, picking up a fry and dipping it in the ketchup. “It’ll be fun.”
He doesn’t answer me, just walks out while I take a bite of the burger and groan. It’s so fucking good. I finish the whole thing before going to the bathroom, washing my hands, and stepping out to see about ten tables filled with people. I see Brady running back and forth from the kitchen to the front. “What can I do?” I ask, and he motions with his head to the bar.
“I wrote down the drinks I need,” he says, carrying two plates to a table of two girls, who smile up at him, one of them blushing. I get behind the bar, and in a matter of thirty minutes, Brady is standing beside me behind the bar, waiting to see who needs us. “This is good,” he finally admits.
“It’s still too early to tell,” I warn him. “As much as I want to toot my own horn”—I look over at the tables of people who are from out of town—“we need to bring in some of the locals and spread the word that way.”
“It’ll come,” he replies, “I have faith.” I’m about to answer him when I look over at the door and spot him. My heart speeds up and not from the nerves of everyone here, but from seeing not only him, but he’s with his parents, who are holding hands beside him. He looks around the bar and spots me, his face going into a smile. “I take it you’ll handle that table?”
I whip my head to look at my brother. “No.” My neck tingles. “You can do that.”
His face lights up. “Oh, but then I won’t have fun teasing you.” He picks up his finger and taps my nose. “You’re it.”
“Brady,” I hiss at him as I look over and see the three of them have taken stools at the fucking bar. Not in the front, nope, the three on the side, where it’s more intimate. “I’ll be back,” he says to me, turning and walking out from behind the bar from the other side.
I take a deep inhale and turn to walk to them; they are customers, after all. “Hi,” I greet them, looking at Quinn first, who smiles at me, then Willow—who has the biggest smile on her face—before falling on Charlie, who is looking at me with a sly smile. “Welcome.” I am going to remain professional and hope like fuck his parents don’t catch on to anything.
“Hey,” Charlie says, “I didn’t know you started serving food.”
“We just started,” I reply. “Something to help bring in people.”
“Well, it smells delicious,” Willow states, “and looks it also.” I turn, grabbing three little square menus that I made and laminated.
“Here you go.” I hand them each one. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I saw on your social media that you have a new blend,” Quinn mentions and I try not to think about that he was searching me online because he found out I was banging his son and wants to make sure I’m good enough for him.
“We do.” I avoid looking at him. “Let me get you a taster.” I turn and walk around, trying to act like I’m not dying inside.
I pour three small glasses before turning and placing them down in front of them.
“Can I get a soda water?” Charlie says to me, and I nod, shocked that he’s not drinking with his parents.
“This is good,” Quinn declares, taking another sip, “smooth.”
Willow picks up her glass. “Oh, it doesn’t even burn going down.” She looks at her husband. “I love this.” She throws back the rest of the shot. “Can I have another?”
“Relax there, sweetheart,” Quinn says to her.
“I’m on vacation. Sitting with my son and my husband. I can’t be safer.” She looks at me. “I’ll have another, please.”
I smile at her. “You got it.” I walk over and take a glass down and fill it halfway. I add a big cube of ice before making my way back and putting it down in front of her. “Happy vacation.” I glance over at Quinn, who is looking at his wife with a glare, but you can see he doesn’t mean it. “Are you guys going to try the food?” I ask, looking at Charlie. “I had the burger and it was so good.”
“I’ll take that,” Charlie says, handing me the menu.
“I’ll take that also,” Willow agrees, as does Quinn, who also orders a glass of the new whiskey.
I walk into the kitchen, seeing the chef going back and forth. “How is it going?” I ask and he smiles.
“So good,” he confirms. “I haven’t stopped a second and I’m loving every single minute of it.”