Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(25)
Then I slid a bill on the bar, kissed Jim-Billy’s cheek, called good-bye to Wendy and Krystal and headed out.
* * * * *
Monday I was on days and would be for that week but, Krystal told me, I’d graduate to nights the week after.
Upon arrival at Bubba’s with my La-La Land coffee in one hand and carrot cinnamon muffin in the other, I saw Tate was also on.
His eyes came to me the minute I walked through the door.
Before he could say a word, I asked, “You want me to re-stock?”
I watched his jaw clench as I walked to the bar, sipping my coffee.
When I hit the bar, Tate asked, “You ever say hello?”
“Hello,” I replied. “Now, do you want me to re-stock?”
He shook his head a couple of times, his eyes not leaving me and he said, “Yeah, Ace, re-stock.”
He tossed me his keys and I waited until I was through the mouth of the hall to mutter, “Don’t call me Ace.”
* * * * *
Considering ten bikers didn’t come in that day, I found it harder to avoid Tate because I didn’t have much to do.
Therefore, I avoided him at lunch by running to the deli and buying him, Jim-Billy and myself a sandwich and taking a detour to La-La Land on the way back to get all of us a huge oatmeal cinnamon cookie, even Tate.
“I’m in a cinnamon mood!” Shambles had yelled when I questioned him on his cinnamon theme.
The sandwiches were good, the cookies orgasmic and even Tate said so (though he didn’t use the word “orgasmic” he used the words “the shit” as in, “These cookies are…”).
After we ate, I took the spritz cleaner and wiped down all the tables and the chairs. That done, I braved going behind the bar with Tate and cleaning all the glass shelves the liquor sat on and the mirror behind it, moving bottles down and putting them back when I was done. Part of it was too high for me so I moved the bottles down, then I climbed up on the back bar and, on my knees, kept going.
As I was reaching in and wiping, I heard Tate ask, “You want me to get closed down?”
“No,” I answered the shelves.
“Then you wanna not commit a health and safety violation while the bar’s open for business?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” I told the shelves then I let out a little scream. I did this because two hands curled around my h*ps and I suddenly found my body in motion for two seconds before I found myself on my feet in front of Tate.
“You wanna pretend I don’t exist, Ace, do it without breaking your neck. Yeah?” he asked but didn’t wait for me to answer. He turned and started moving the bottles back to the high shelves (something, considering his height that was no problem for him).
Jim-Billy chuckled. I glared at him.
Jim-Billy audibly and visibly swallowed his chuckle but didn’t stop smiling.
The door opened and Nadine walked in.
“Hey Nadine,” I shouted so enthusiastically, her body jolted with surprise at my exuberant greeting.
Jim-Billy burst out laughing.
Nadine approached the bar. “Uh, hey there, Lauren.”
Jim-Billy turned to her and announced, “Sam and Diane here are having a tiff.”
Nadine’s face registered understanding and she grinned.
“I’m not Diane,” I snapped at Jim-Billy and then poked a thumb at Tate. “And he’s not Sam.”
“Got more hair,” Tate muttered and that was funny but I didn’t laugh even though both Nadine and Jim-Billy did.
I was also out of things to do to avoid Tate because Nadine sat on a barstool and Tate was already done with the liquor and pulling out her usual bottle of Bud Light. Once he popped off the cap, threw a mat in front of her and put it there, he moved to lean beside me where I was leaning against the back bar.
I couldn’t move because I’d been made with my avoidance tactics so I had to pretend Tate’s existence didn’t annoy me.
Everyone was silent.
Finally, Tate spoke. To me.
“You get a cell phone yet?” he asked.
“No,” I answered.
“You gonna get one on your day off tomorrow?” he asked.
“No,” I answered.
“Mm,” he murmured.
This was a mysterious response and I didn’t like the idea of a mysterious Tate so I asked, “What?”
“Nothin’, babe.”
I turned to him. “Please, can you stop calling me babe?”
“No,” he answered.
I rolled my eyes and lifted a hand, palm up, to him. “Can I have your keys?”
“Why?”
“I’m going to go do a stock take in the back.”
His eyebrows went up even as he blinked. “You’re gonna do what?”
“A stock take. Count what you have and see if it’s the same as what’s on the stock sheet.”
“Bubba and Krystal do that,” Tate told me.
“Well, I’m saving them the trouble,” I told him back.
“Why?” he asked.
I swung my arm out to the bar. “No one’s here. There’s nothing to do.”
“So get a soda, take a break,” Tate suggested.
“I can’t not be busy,” I replied.
“Why not?” he asked.