“You mean you actually do know him?”
Know him, love him, hope we can figure out how to have a future together. I wink at my bartender and simply grab another IPA bottle from the cooler behind her.
“That’s seriously cool, Maris.”
Just as I’m about to shout a reply over the din, I hear my name being called repeatedly. I whirl around, drop the beer in front of the impatient patron, and signal to KJ I’ll be right back.
Amaq has his arms folded across his chest. “Fire chief’s here. Police are outside.”
“Is ‘Praise the Lord’ an inappropriate response?” I joke even as I’m untying my apron to follow him through the throng.
Amaq’s lips quirk. “We’re not over capacity. But apparently there’s some issues with parking and with the way people are lined up outside. They’d like you to come out and handle it so they don’t need to issue citations.”
“Because I have a lot of control of how people park?” My voice is laced with sarcasm.
“No, and the cops have already taken care of that. It’s the people who are trying to park they have an issue with.”
I stop dead. “There’s more trying to come in? I seriously want to know who started the rumor of Nick coming here tonight and stab them.”
Of course, I say that just as I reach one of Juneau’s patrolmen who I’ve known since high school. He grins. “Now Maris, watch that mouth. You don’t need me hauling you in over terroristic threats and acts.”
I roll my eyes as we exchange a handshake. “Matt, can I call Nick and direct him to Mendenhall to sign autographs or something?”
His shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. “Nope. I didn’t even know you knew the guy, Maris. You’ve been holding out.” He gives me a friendly punch in the arm.
“Not getting into this now. What do you need me out here for? KJ is up to her elbows in barley and hops.”
Getting serious, he asks if I have any problem with putting an “At Capacity” sign in the lot. “Just for a while. It’s only eight. If people realize you’re this slammed, maybe it will discourage the rest of this.”
And that’s when I get a good look at the line to get in. “What the hell?” The line is around the block.
As I walk down the line, most of the patrons who recognize me immediately scramble to get their backs against the wall. “And there it is, the Smith fury. That’s why we called you out,” Pete confides.
“Stuff it, buddy.”
He’s chuckling as we approach some of the businesses whose entrances face the water. The fire chief is arguing with two scantily clad girls who refuse to move away from the doorway where tourists are trying to exit. I let out a piercing whistle. Everyone jumps. “If you’re in line for the Brewhouse and you’re blocking a business, I’m bouncing you out of line.”
“You and what army?” One with a halter, a mini barely covering her crotch, and boots up to her thighs sneers.
I toss my hair over my shoulder and smooth a hand over my hip. “Chief, mind telling these girls who I am?”
“Maris Smith, proprietress of Smith’s Brewhouse,” he confirms.
Their jaws fall open, but, “I don’t see any movement. These tourists likely have a cruise ship to get back to. They’re not trying to cut in line. Now move back or move on,” I hiss.
They almost topple over getting back. I step over to the door and open it with a flourish for the tourists. “Thank you for visiting Juneau. I hope you found everything you were looking for and didn’t forget to have your cruise packet stamped.”
“We didn’t. Thank you for the reminder.” The couple scuttles away on the sidewalk.
I turn to Pete. “We’re at capacity. Period.”
He grins, before lifting his megaphone. “Attention, please. Smith’s Brewhouse is at capacity. I repeat, Smith’s Brewhouse is at full capacity.”
“How do you know?” comes a whiny voice.
Pete hands over the mouthpiece. “This is Maris Smith. I repeat, we are at full capacity. I have been warned by the police and the fire chief, no more patrons will be accepted without a reduction of twenty percent. That is all. Find another place to hang out or go home.” I flip the mic back in Pete’s direction, and the chief falls in lockstep with me.
“Thanks, Maris. I know that’s lost revenue for you, but…”
“But nothing. Those people could have missed their ship.” I’m infuriated. We get back up to the entrance. I spot Amaq. “Brad, Rainey, Nick. Employees. No one else enters the parking lot. I’ll make an announcement for people to move their cars, or they have to work with you. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gives me a quick salute and goes to lock the gates.
I rub my hand across my forehead before wondering aloud, “God, what else could happen tonight?”
Then I duck inside to go rescue KJ.
About thirty minutes ago while taking a quick break to shovel in a few bites of pretzel in the kitchen, I sent Nick a text that read, If you feel like topping off your ego, come visit me at work. We’ve got wannabes, skanks, actual fans, and people who just plain want to eat.
His response amused me. You’ll protect me.
True, but you still need to make your way from the door to the bar. We’re six deep. Oh, and I had to lock the gate.
A few minutes later, he replied. What utter BS. Brad and I are on our way. Rainey is going to stay with the kids.
While part of me wanted to protect Nick from this kind of nonsense while he’s in town, another part of me recognizes it’s myself I wanted to save. It’s been a long time since I witnessed Nick Cain in action, and frankly the memories aren’t great ones even though I know I’m the only woman in Nick’s heart.
KJ sways on her feet. I catch sight and slide up next to her. “What’s going on?”
“Just a little hot.”
“Did you eat?” I demand.
“Yeah. It just feels like there’s no air in here.”
I yank my phone from my bra to text Amaq to drop the air when I get an incoming text from him that reads, Reinforcements inbound. I’m escorting them over. Crazy is coming out of the woodwork.
I release a sigh. Of course they are. I order KJ, “Sit on the coolers. I can handle this until reinforcements arrive.”
“When is that, tomorrow?”
With a quick check of the time on my phone, I chuckle. “Possibly. Still, I don’t need you passing out.”
“You got it.” She hikes up on the cooler as I take quick command of the bar.
For the next several moments, I forget about Nick and Brad being there to help as I race from one side of the bar to the other. I’ve got two pints going simultaneously while I pour a Jack and Coke double when arms slip around me from behind. I’m shocked I didn’t hear a roar announcing Nick. “I don’t have time, Nick.” I bump him back with my hips. “I have to deliver these drinks, and as you can see I have…” Just as I take the twenty from the customer and spin around to hit the register, I freeze.
Because it wasn’t Nick who made his way behind the bar.
It’s Carter Jones.