Sweet (Landry Family 6)

Murray sighs. “Yes. And Kira is already here to take over, so there’s two of us on the clock right now.”

“Then I guess you can head home.”

He steps into the doorway, stuffing one hand in his jeans. The bastard doesn’t even try to wipe a smile off his face. “And you’re heading home to Paige?”

“Question—do you want to get fired today or save it for later this week?”

His laughter is loud. I try hard not to find amusement in his reaction but fail.

“Get the hell outta here,” I say, walking toward him. I grab his shoulder and give it a good shake. “Thanks for helping me with the delivery.”

“No problem. See ya tomorrow, boss.”

“Later.”

He stops to clock out, and I head for the bar. I round the corner and see Joe sitting in his prized spot at the end. I say hello to a few regular customers as I make my way toward the old man.

His requisite ivy cap is propped on his head, white hair poking out from beneath it. He sees me coming and smiles a wide, toothless smile.

“Look who decided to work today,” he says, his voice much louder than necessary.

“Hey, Joe. What’s happening, man?” I rest my arms on the bar top across from him. “Did you get some coffee?”

“Yeah, and you’re still chargin’ me a quarter. Can you believe that? It’s a rip-off if I’ve ever seen one.”

He winks at me, the hollows of his cheeks sinking into his mouth.

“We gotta make money somewhere,” I tease. “I have a kid to pay for.”

“What have you been doing today? I heard you back there,” he says, motioning toward the kitchen. “But they said you were busy.”

“We had a big delivery come in today. And you know how it goes. If you don’t do it yourself—”

“It won’t get done right.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Don’t I know it. Back when I worked on the railroad, I was the only one gettin’ anything done around there. People these days are lazy. They don’t know how to put in a day’s work anymore.”

“Eh, I have a pretty good crew around here. I can’t complain too much.”

He shrugs. “They’re okay. I miss that dark-headed girl. Where’d she go?”

I close my eyes. Why is everyone wanting to talk about her today? And why doesn’t he realize that he was the one that was gone for over a month?

“You know, the sassy one. The one like this.” Joe outlines an hourglass in the air with his hands. “What happened to her?”

“He knows who you mean,” Kira says over my shoulder. She bumps my hip with hers. “Hi, Nate.”

“Hi, Kira.”

“Paige!” Joe smacks the bar top with his fist. “That’s her name. Paige.”

“She’s still here. She’s had a couple of days off. You were the one missing for over a month.”

Kira clears her throat. “Speaking of that, I’m supposed to be in the kitchen tonight, and Jaycee just called off for out here. Sick kid or grandparent or something. I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

If Paige is here and I’m at home, that would give me a bit of a respite.

“I’ll call Paige,” I say.

“Well, on that note, I’ll have another cup of coffee,” Joe says, smiling. “Gotta get my quarter’s worth.”

I sigh. “See you later, Joe.” I start toward my office. Once I get to Kira, I lower my voice. “Get him a sandwich, please.”

“Will do.”

I get to my office, close the door behind me, and sit at my desk. I swear I can still smell Paige’s perfume lingering in the air as I take out my phone.

Me: Any chance you can work the bar tonight?

Paige: Yes, of course. What time?

Me: Kira is by herself now, so whenever you can get here would be great. Should be dead until five thirty or six anyway.

Paige: Let me change, and I’ll be there.

I bite my knuckle so hard I almost yelp.

Me: I’m heading to Mrs. Kim’s to pick up Ryder then going home. We’ll probably cross paths.

Paige: Just remember I might be home after curfew. But don’t worry. You won’t see me naked.

Fucking hell, Paige.

But before I can respond, she fires off another message.

Paige: Phone is dying. Tell Kira I’ll be there soon. *waving emoji*

Damn this girl.

TWELVE

PAIGE

A bead of sweat rolls down my spine.

The back of my Illinois Legends T-shirt—the one I modified to a more form-fitting, sexier style for work because … tips—is damp from the chaos of the night. My legs are on fire, and I wish I would’ve worn my other pair of sneakers. But my tip jar is full, the bar has slowed down, and the handsome stranger in the brown flannel is still sitting at the end.

Waiting on me to have a moment to talk, perhaps.

I consider not chatting with him because I’m feeling kind of cranky, but then think—why the hell not? It’s not like I have a man to consider.