Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Sorry,” Kayla stood and reached for her jacket. “I have an early shift, so I need to get to bed, but let’s do this again soon?”
“Sounds good.” My tone was disappointed, but I tried to hide it behind a smile.
Nix stood up next. “I always have to get up early, and it is well past my bedtime. Thanks for a fun girls’ night, ladies.”
I glanced down at the mostly eaten platter of nachos and sighed. Girls’ night was over. Torey squirmed in her seat, and I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “Go on, you know you want to.”
“Are you sure? I don’t have to get up early, so I can stay a bit longer.”
She didn’t really want to, though. “I’m sure. It’s fine. I’ll sit at the bar and then head home.”
“You sure?” Torey stood and wrapped her arms around me. “I am down to stay for another drink.”
“Your heart isn’t in it. Go home and have dirty talk with Ryan.” I hugged her back, keeping my smile in place as we walked to the front door. I went left and sat at the bar, while Torey headed for the exit.
I felt low. Really, really low. I hadn’t felt this way since that first month in New York, when I couldn’t land an agent or a job and seriously considered waiting tables or finding a sugar daddy. At least Levi is excellent eye candy. The bartender was a beautiful, auburn-haired man with a cropped beard, a smattering of freckles, and deep green eyes that tempted a girl to get lost in them. He was tall—taller than me, which would put him at over six feet—with broad shoulders, a lean waist, and thick thighs that did amazing things to denim.
“You all right?” He stopped in front of me, towel flung over his red flannel-covered shoulder, one brow arched.
“No, I’m not all right, but I don’t want to talk about it. Thank you, though.” The last thing I wanted was to wallow even more than I already was. Hell, it was no wonder the girls couldn’t get away quick enough. “How about you, Levi? How did you come to Holiday Grove?”
His lips curled up, showing off a hint of a dimple. “You want to talk about me?”
I nodded. “Is there a bartender rule I don’t know about that says I can’t ask you questions?”
“Plenty, I’m sure.” The smile hit his eyes, and I squeezed my knees together because the things the sexy bartender was making me feel were things I thought died years ago.
“Don’t be so sure.” I pushed my glass in his direction and smiled.
“Another G&T?”
“Nah, surprise me with something. Delicious but not sweet, while you tell me about how you landed in our fine town.”
He pulled down a bottle of gin and two mixers I wasn’t familiar with and began to pour. “I was working as a bartender in Houston, then Los Angeles, and then Aspen for the winter, mostly aimless but with a much-needed skillset, when a lawyer finally tracked me down to tell me that an uncle I didn’t know I had died and left me this bar.”
My brows dipped. “Huh? Wait a minute, Marcus Russell was your uncle?”
“Apparently,” he shrugged and shoved an orange-ish pink drink in my direction. “My mom died when I was nine, and I went into foster care until I was eighteen because there was no family to take me in.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, as if he wasn’t bothered by that fact. “You’re a local, right?”
I smiled and nodded, assuming that Levi didn’t know who I was, and why would he? Men usually fell into two categories where I was concerned: those who knew me and wanted to live out their fantasy, and those who pretended not to know me just to get a foot in the door, of my bedroom or the industry. It wasn’t ego, not entirely, anyway—it was just a fact. “I am. I knew Marcus. He was a quiet guy who lived a quiet life, but he was always nice.”
“He was my mom’s older brother by a decade. She never mentioned him.” He shook his head. “Why am I telling you all this?”
I shrugged. “Because I’m easy to talk to?”
He rolled his eyes while he dried a few glasses.
“Marcus had a partner for a long time. His name was Damon. He died when I was in high school. After that, it was just him and this bar.” This was even sadder than my own miserable life. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” He stared at me for a long moment, a half-smile on his face, as if he was trying to figure me out.
Good luck. I still hadn’t figured myself out yet.
2 LEVI
Robin was drunk. Maybe she wasn’t drunk-drunk, but she was definitely leaving Tipsy Town and headed straight for Drunksville. On top of being tipsy, she was sad, which was usually a bad combination. It usually meant tears, yelling, and sometimes drama, but Robin wasn’t any of those. She was self-deprecating and surprisingly funny, and she gave good conversation, unlike most of the girls who came in here half-drunk and looking for a meaningless hookup.