Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)(13)

It was stupid to feel relieved that I’d successfully filled a water glass. But today, I was taking whatever I could get. I stole three lime slices from the tray along the bar, plopped them in my water, then walked around the corner to sit on the stool next to Wayne.

My feet were killing me in these new snow boots. I was used to wearing heels every day but not actually walking around in them for hours on end. My driver, Glen, and my town car were never far away. When I shopped, I always had a nice place to sit and sip champagne whenever I needed to rest.

But today I hadn’t had a single minute to sit. I’d been following Dakota around and taking his orders ever since Logan and Thea had abandoned me here.

Five years ago, I would have sent a string of nasty texts to my brother, using shouty caps to tell him how this was ridiculous and unfair. I would have called one of my girlfriends and bitched about my sister-in-law tricking me into manual labor. Then I would have called Mom and cried, begging her to get me out of this situation.

Even a week ago, I would have called and grumbled to anyone who would have listened.

But a week ago, the magazine article hadn’t been published. I hadn’t become a tornado of self-doubt.

A week ago, I was still pretending that my life was perfect.

So instead of resorting to my old tactics, I was sticking it out. Thea had asked me to trust her, and I was trying my best. Besides, where else did I have to go? I was useless. I was a mockery. As miserable as I was, helping at this bar was better than going back to New York and listening to people snicker behind my back.

Montana was my sanctuary for the next ten days until the gossip storm blew over.

“Cheers.” Wayne lifted his glass full of Coors Light and Clamato, something I’d never heard of before.

I clinked his glass with my own and sipped my water, enjoying a quiet moment off my feet.

There were only two other people in the bar at the moment, a couple in one of the booths. Both were looking at their phones as the beers I’d brought them sat untouched, growing warm.

“How are you liking working here?” Wayne asked just as Dakota emerged from the hallway.

It was like he had a sixth sense that I’d been about to tell Wayne the truth. His eyes narrowed at my lips as he walked our way and the answer I was going to give Wayne—that I needed a Xanax—disappeared off my tongue.

“It’s been interesting. I’ve never worked in a bar before.” Or anywhere. “So I’m learning a lot.”

Like how to properly throw away a beer bottle. Even that simple job I’d failed.

Dakota had told me that instead of just tossing them into the garbage can, I had to empty out whatever was left, even if it was just backwash. Otherwise the garbage bag would get full of liquid and be a mess to toss in the Dumpster.

I’d also learned that when I delivered beer bottles, I was to use the stack of cardboard coasters, not the cocktail napkins. The coasters were free since some beer distributors had brought them in for promotion. The bar had to pay for the napkins.

I’d also learned that when you dusted liquor bottles, they had to be put back in the exact same place. Apparently, the seemingly random placement of bottles was anything but. Dakota had grumbled some colorful obscenities under his breath as he’d spent thirty minutes rearranging them after I’d mixed them up.

He’d been short with me most of the day. If I were in his position, I probably would have been short with me too. Still, it stung each time he snapped or barked an order. Not only because he was gorgeous and I was clearly driving him crazy, but also because each time it reminded me how foolish I must seem.

Dakota went to the dishwasher, slid out the top rack and pulled out two glasses now that they’d cooled.

“I can empty it.” I rose from my seat, but he shot me a look that sent my butt back onto the stool.

“I’ll do it. Just . . . rest your feet.”

My shoulders fell. I’d hoped he hadn’t noticed my limping steps over the past hour. “Sorry.”

“Wear comfortable shoes tomorrow.”

I nodded and sipped my water, wishing it were vodka. I hadn’t brought any shoes along that didn’t have a heel.

I’d have to borrow something from Thea, though I already knew we weren’t the same size. I’d bought her a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps last year for her birthday. I’d never seen her wear them and now I knew why. Four-inch stilettos with beaded embellishments were completely unnecessary here.

Just like me.

“You look like you’re about to cry,” Wayne whispered, leaning in close. “Everything okay?”

I nodded, blinking away a fresh onslaught of tears. “I’m out of my element.”

“Ah, don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of things soon. You look like a smart gal.”

His words made me want to cry even more. How was it that a man I’d met just moments ago had such confidence in me? The people I was closest to didn’t think I’d ever amount to much.

“Excuse me.” I slid off my stool, ignoring the ache in my feet as I hurried behind the bar. As soon as I reached the hallway, I covered my mouth with a hand. The sob that had been bubbling up to the surface escaped, echoing through the kitchen as I burst through the door.

I stopped next to the table in the middle of the room and closed my eyes. Then I let the tears flow free.

The first wave had barely cascaded down my cheeks when a deep voice rang in the kitchen. “Oh, Christ.”