Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“It depends on the girls. We all drove here separately in case we wanted to leave at different times. It’s something we’ve always done, mostly because I’m a night owl and they aren’t. It comes in handy when you own a sweets store.” She winks.
“Have a seat. If you decide to have too many, we’ll just move your car to the back parking lot. I’ll take the couch in the apartment tonight and you can have the bed. I hate that I can’t hang out with you right now, but we’re slammed. Sit on this end of the bar though. I’ll check in when I can.” I kiss her forehead.
“That works. I probably won’t stay too long. I’m opening tomorrow.”
“Alright, what can I get you ladies?” I ask them.
“A pitcher of margaritas, please, with some chips and salsa.” She knows damn well I don’t serve that. She’s lucky I bought the margarita machine a few months ago, and that was only because every woman in this town has some kind of obsession with tequila and lime juice. We all got tired of running a blender every damn ten minutes. Now we put all the ingredients in and pour it over ice or use the other one beside it if they want it frozen.
“Nice try. There’s pretzels or chips?”
“One day, you’ll bring in chips and salsa. Until then, the chips, please.” I shake my head, a smile on my face the entire time. It’s not that I’m opposed to chips and salsa, but with this place having both indoor and outdoor space, that shit gets messy for my staff to deal with.
“Nah, save a dance for me. I’ll spin you around the dance floor a time or two in between breaks,” I tell her after I place their pitcher with a few cups in front of them, letting them pour for themselves.
“Be right back. The band should be playing, and they’re not.” I knock on the wooden bar top, surveying what’s going on and see if I need to get the deejay working until then.
“Alright, see you soon.” The only good thing about the music not playing right now is that I can hear her. Once the music or the live band starts, I won’t be able to unless we’re inches apart. That’s why when I built this bar, I made sure there was inside seating with a dance floor as well as an outdoor area, for a smaller bar, picnic style tables, and off to the side there’s cornhole, horseshoes, and giant-sized Jenga.
I walk to the stage and see the band setting up. I’m not even going to get started with why they’re not playing yet. Instead, I veer to the right and head to the deejay.
“Hey, band said not to turn on the music, and I couldn’t find you,” Mack says.
“No problem, but they can fuck right off. They’re more than fifteen minutes late. They’ll be lucky if I don’t kick them off. Go ahead and start something. It’s Friday night. We can’t have nothing going on,” I grumble, not upset with Mack at all. He usually works hand in hand with the band, but when they get like this, he’s best to steer clear and wait for me.
“Sounds good, Beau. I see Lily is here again. What’s up with that?”he asks.
“Seeing where things go. I’m waiting for Vince to come in half-cocked, though, so may need to keep your eyes peeled to help Brigger out.”
“Will do. I’ll watch for Vince. Though, he doesn’t usually come in until Saturdays when the tattoo shop closes early.” Mack and I both know that all too well. Duke has done ninety percent of my tattoos. The other ones are from when I was stationed in the Army. There was always somewhere new—more bars, tattoo shops, and a hell of a good time. When I got out, I had stashed a lot of money away and knew what I wanted to do, got my shit together, and here we are, fourteen years later, and the Tipsy Cow is thriving and in the black. I’m not a billionaire by any means, but I do well for myself. The apartment above the bar is just that, an apartment. It’s not my permanent residence, it’s here for any of us to use if we have a long-as-hell night and can’t make sense of driving.
I’d much rather my staff be safe than be sorry. My ranch is up the road, but nights when we’ve got a band playing and we have a full house, I’ll crawl my ass upstairs and pass out. That’s why I offered it to Lily. The lines are already blurred, though the rules have yet to be set, and I’m already thinking that keeping this thing between us fake will never work out.
Chapter 4