Forbidden Gold (Providence Gold 5)

Sure enough, he let out a yelp and jumped dramatically when she jabbed them into his sides.

I think out of all of us, she was the one he’d most likely talk to about shit, so I made a mental note to ask her, just to make sure he was okay.

Why was my family so fucking complicated?

Someone clearing their throat from the other end of the bar signaled I had a customer waiting to be served, so I left the tiny blonde Brit, my complicated cousin, and my beloved grandmother to talk and made my way down to them.

When I got closer, I realized it was the same woman who’d previously asked questions about my family and Parker. This time her hair was long and auburn, contrasting with her pale complexion and dark brown eyes. Plenty of women wore wigs to change the style and color when they wanted to, but it just added to how off she made me feel about her.

“Hey, how are you doing?” she asked as I stopped in front of her.

This close to her, I could see that she’d also done something to change her face. If I hadn’t spent so many years contouring to try and change how my nose looked, I doubt I’d have noticed it—but I was familiar with all the techniques used. And it made alarm bells blare like a siren.

Deciding the best thing to do was to act like I didn’t recognize her, I smiled brightly. “Hey there, how can I help you?”

“Do you have any red wine?”

The question was dumb, considering we had a display with all of the wines we served behind us and a list of them beside it.

“Sure do. We’ve got a Bordeaux, a Cabernet Sauvignon, three types of Zinfandel, a Pinot Noir, a really nice Malbec and a 2017 Rioja Reserva that’ll knock your socks off.” Then, pointing at the list, I added, “If you read that, you’ll see the different tastes and grapes used in each one.”

Her eyes moved quickly from the list back to me, almost like she was assessing me to check if I recognized her or not. Deliberately keeping my expression light, I smiled at her like any other waitress waiting patiently for a customer to decide.

“I’ll just have a large glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please.”

Turning to get her order, I caught Elijah and Sadie watching me serve her.

This was the fifth time she’d come into the bar now, and the change to her appearance was so freaking strange. I could either keep my mouth shut like a sensible person, or I could ask questions and probably get myself into shit.

Eh, who was I kidding? I was totally going with the second option.

“Are you from around here?”

“Uh, sort of.”

Hmm…

Shooting her a smile over my shoulder at her as I poured, I nodded understandingly. “Yeah, there’s a lot of places that fall under that category. Well, we’re happy you chose to visit us here.”

Seeing that the wine was to the line it needed to be, I put the bottle back and took the glass over to her. This time I could see her side profile because she had her head turned to the side, looking around at the other patrons. At this angle, I could clearly make out the change in color of the makeup she’d used to change her nose, cheeks, and jaw.

Turning back to me, she asked, “Are you from around here?”

“Yup.” It was something she already knew, but I was content to play her game.

“I’ll bet you have a lot of family here, too.”

“Yup.” This time, I forced myself to add a wide smile.

“What about your boyfriend? A girl as pretty as you definitely has one of those.” She almost had to spit the words out, like she was struggling to get them out of her mouth.

And that got me thinking—what if her interest was with me? I’d never been on the receiving end of attention like that from a woman, so I didn’t know what to do. She was too prickly, and her manner was overly aggressive. Had I read it wrong before? And why the wig and makeup?

I’d been raised to be polite—ish, because there were always exceptions made for assholes—to people, and I was a staunch supporter of everyone, including the LGBTQ+ community. Love is love, and everyone deserved love regardless of color or religion, or gender.

The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel ashamed or embarrassed if that was what this was about. It was a strong possibility, but something told me that wasn’t what this was. Still, I’d proceed with caution just in case.

“Yeah, I do. He’s a great guy.”

Her upper lip raised in a sneer at this. Seeing my frown at the move, she smoothed it back out into a semblance of a smile. “Great, I’m sure he’s a lucky guy. Anyway, what do I owe you?”