Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I grab the case of beer and make my way back out to the bar, my eyes scanning the crowd in an effort to make sure there aren't any current issues and also to try and predict where there might be problems later on.
At thirty-two, I think I've spent more time at The Hairy Frog than I've spent anywhere else. I worked here after turning eighteen, before joining the Army, and it wasn't long after my eight years in the service that I came home to Lindell and bought the place.
"What else did you need?" I ask Maggie, my best waitress, after getting the case into the cooler.
"I need the bag changed on the Coke, but that woman needs to speak with you first." Maggie points across the bar, and I wish I'd found something else to do rather than look in the direction she's pointing.
Claire Kennedy.
She's the prettiest woman in town. Although she's technically single, there's an unspoken rule in the military about setting your sights on another man's woman. It doesn't matter that she's a widow and has been single for more than three years. She's off-limits.
I know why she's here and it makes telling her no difficult, but there's no way I can have this woman in my bar day in and day out. It's been hard to stay away from her as it is with her silky brown hair and intriguing brown eyes. Despite not being from Lindell, she still has that whole small-town girl aura around her. It's what makes every man in this place turn and pay attention when she steps inside.
My lips form a flat line as I walk toward her, and I can tell by the way she has her eyes locked on me that she isn't impressed with me at all. Her indifference when she looks at me hits me in a way it shouldn't. It almost makes me want to perform somehow, or smile, or do something to pull a different reaction from her, but I know better. It's not my place to impress her or make her feel any sort of way.
"Claire," I say when I approach, praying she doesn't hear the way her name on my lips makes me feel.
I clench my hands into fists, but she's too observant and sees my reaction.
She narrows her eyes as she lifts them up to mine.
"I need an application," she says, her tone bored and unenthusiastic.
Why does she have to be so damned pretty?
"We don't have any open shifts," I lie, keeping my eyes on her chin rather than the sleek line of her neck as she turns her head to look around the busy bar. People are stacked three deep at the bar, and I don't have to look out into the crowd to see several people looking around in order to find a waitress or someone willing to bring them another round.
"Megan has been running back and forth since I got here," she argues. "The woman is sweating from her efforts."
"You're not listening," I begin. "We—"
"Don't have any open shifts," she interrupts. "Clearly, you also have a problem with scheduling. I was a waitress back in El Paso. You won't even have to spend time training me."
I have no doubt the bar she speaks of is the very place where she met Hux, her dead husband. Her mention of the place solidifies my decision, even though I can feel Maggie glaring at the side of my head. We're desperate for help, but Claire's help would also bring with it way too many complications.
"I'll be back on Saturday," she says, as if we've discussed what her schedule will look like rather than listening when I tell her I'm not going to hire her.
She continues to glare at me as if staring into my soul will make me agree with her.
As an Army vet, I've faced opponents deadlier than her, but none who have left me feeling the way I do when she dips her head once before turning and walking toward the exit. Over the alcohol and people, I catch the fragrance of her hair as it swings behind her. I swear the woman has managed to capture the most alluring scent I've ever had the pleasure of smelling.
Part of me wants to follow her from the bar and find out how she plans to spend the rest of her night, hoping that it somehow includes me, even though tonight is the most we've ever spoken to each other.
I want to growl at every man who looks in her direction on her way to the exit, but I do feel a little relieved when she disappears after paying them no mind. Before turning back to Maggie, I have to tell myself that I don't even know the woman, and there's no sense in getting to know her. There has never been a more off-limits woman in the world to me.