“Well maybe you should make him wash the dishes when he comes in then,” she answers with a shrug that makes her buttoned-up blouse slip open just slightly. “Or have him rearrange all the boxes in the back?”
I can’t help that my eyes dart down to her cleavage even as I chuckle at her suggestion. It’s a modest top, probably perfect for that office job she’s got. But right now, it’s giving me a teasing glimpse and I want to see more.
“I am-” I tell her as I see Mickey waving me down. “Soon as he gets in here, no bartending, all dishes and grunt work.” I’m half playing, half-serious. The grill in the back needs to be scrubbed down, along with all the equipment, and that’s James’ payback. That and I have to cut back his hours until I’m sure he’ll actually show up during rush hours. She laughs that sweet, soft sound I know is genuine. I tap the bar with a smile as I walk to the other end to Mickey.
“Can you get me some wings?” he says as he pats his stomach. His shirt strains as he stretches backward. The buttons on his shirt gape and are showing a bit too much but only when he stretches back.
“Ranch on the side?”
He nods, “That’ll do it.”
“Course, Mickey.” I open the double doors just a touch and call out to Mags. “An order of wings, hot.”
I look back to make sure Mickey wants his usual. This bar’s become a routine for him, just like it has for a lot of the town.
He nods his head, and I don’t even hesitate to walk right back to Grace. It’s become a natural habit of mine when she’s here.
Most of the guys in here want to get away. They want a place to watch the games, to drink, to chat with their friends they came with. Grace comes alone most of the time. She sits by herself, and I’m the only one she talks to unless someone sidles up beside her. I like it that way. It’s like she comes here just for me.
Inwardly I scoff at myself and remember a number of nights where she seemed to make best of friends with a stranger for an hour or two.
She wants company, to talk, to laugh, to forget about all her problems. I want that too.
That’s all it’s ever going to be though. She’s told me more than once about the dates she’s been on and the guys she’s meeting up with. And not a damn one of them is a country boy with a reputation like mine.
I think she knows enough about all the shit I’ve been through. The whole damn town does… although, she’s not from Vinings, so I don't think she knows the whole story. Plus, she’s asked about my dating life before. I didn’t give her much, but I told her the same thing I tell every woman. I’m not interested in settling down. Not now. Possibly not ever. I’m pretty certain I told her that on night one.
Either way, she's ready for the whole nine yards. She had no problem telling me that and making it clear she wasn’t into one-night flings. Although, I’m not sure if she told me that more to remind herself, or to make me keep my distance. If it was the latter, she failed miserably. It only made me want her more. I’m not interested in all that shit she wants though. I’ve hardly got time for myself, let alone a family. But I fucking love flirting with her. Maybe it’s because I know I can’t have her. It’s the challenge.
“So how’s your day going?” I ask. “Hopefully better than mine.”
I grab the stool from behind me and pull it closer to her to take a seat. It’s dinner time now, so the evening rush won’t come till later. I’m going to need my energy then.
“Eh.” Grace makes a cute scrunched up face and takes another drink with her eyes closed tight.
“That bad, huh?” I ask her with a grin. I love how animated she is, how she wears her emotions on her sleeve. She really is a sweetheart.
“Yeah, it was rough,” she admits, looking away.
She puts her glass back down on the bar and lets her fingertips glide along the edge and my smile falls.
Leaning back on the stool, I stretch and run my hand over my hair. “Sorry your day was shit. You need me to go have a word with your boss?”
My joke makes her smile at least, but she shakes her head gently with her eyes closed.
“I don’t think that would help,” she says softly and then focuses those baby blues on me. She has the kind of eyes a man can get lost in. They're a pale blue with tiny golden flecks that lure me in. She jokes, “Least I’m not doing dishes.”
That’s my girl.
Her voice is a bit choked up at the end though, which is unusual for her. She’s quick to lift the drink to her lips, I think to try to hide it. She’s been coming in here for a while. I’m getting used to looking forward to her coming in and chatting with me, but the look on her face right now is making my chest hurt for her.
“You can tell me if you want.” My offer goes unanswered for a moment and I scan the room casually, not putting any pressure on her. Luckily, she starts talking before I meet her baby blues again.
“I went to the doctor today.” She taps the bar as she talks, staring where her fingers play along it. “My eggs decided to boycott so I can’t have kids.” She takes in a shuddering breath and then rolls her eyes, playing it off and shaking her head. “Well, not the traditional way anyway. And they’ll be expensive as fuck if I do have them.”
“You alright?” I ask her. I watch the raw vulnerability as it's replaced with a mask of lightheartedness.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just unexpected.” She finally looks me in the eyes as she adds, “I’m gonna start a bill for each one now so they can cover these fertility treatments. They can pay me back after they graduate.” She laughs at her joke, and I let out a huff of a chuckle just to make her feel more at ease. Fuck, it hurts though to see the pain in her eyes.
“Sorry,” I tell her sincerely. I’ve never even thought about kids. With the bar, I don’t have the time, even if I wanted them.
“Don’t be. I just got the news, so I’m all flustered, but I will figure it out.”
“I can imagine.” No I can’t. But I think what I’m saying is comforting.
A few more guys and a couple come in and take me from her, but I keep my eye on her glass. I'm waiting for it to empty, so I have a reason to get back to her. The beer flows easily as the orders continue to come in. UGA is playing, and most of the bar is rooting for wins, which means Mickey buys the guys in the back a round of shots.
All the while Grace spins slightly on her stool and occasionally checks her phone. Mostly she just stares directly ahead of her at nothing in particular, a vacant look in her eyes and her lips turned down slightly. It gets busier and busier, but all I want is for her to call me over to her or finish that last bit of her drink.
I check with her a few times, but she waves me off with a small smile. Each time she’s just as welcoming and tempting as the last. But work calls, stealing me from her and leaving her alone in the bar. Every time I peek up, I see a sadness behind those big blue doe eyes that I don’t like seeing.
Time passes quickly and before I know it, she’s taking out her clutch and leaving cash on the bar. The second I see her put the money down, I stop pouring the draft beer in my hands and call out to her over the hum of loud voices.