“Is it as rough there as everyone says?”
He shrugged.
“It can be, I guess,” he said. “But Teresa doesn’t take shit off anyone, and she doesn’t stand for people messing with the staff. It won’t be anything like working at the Breakfast Table. You’ll bust ass, but you can make a fortune in tips on a good night.”
“How do you know so much about it?” I asked, curious.
“Used to bartend there with Blake,” he replied. “Couple years ago.”
“Wait, Blake tended bar at the Bitter Moose? Why the hell was he working at the Breakfast Table?”
Joe started laughing, then shook his head.
“You haven’t figured that out by now? It’s because of Danielle. He’s been batshit over her since high school, but she’s always blown him off. He used to date her older sister and she fed Danielle all kinds of crap about him. He finally took that job so he could actually spend some time with her, start to wear her down.”
“Really?” I asked, fascinated. “But he seems so . . . casual toward her. I mean, he was flirting with me tonight like crazy. I know they’re fucking around but I never got the impression he was looking for a relationship.”
“Think about it—have you ever seen Danielle get with someone for longer than a week? She’s not into the whole relationship thing, never has been. He’s going under her radar. It’s a setup.”
Wow. That really did make sense in a twisted way.
“That’s a lot of work.”
He shrugged.
“Blake’s just killing time until he finishes his degree anyway,” he said. “He’s got big plans. Doesn’t really matter where he works while he pulls it all together, so why not take a job close to Danielle? Of course now he’s got her where he wants her.”
I wanted to ask him more, but that’s when we pulled up to the bar, which was hopping even though it was a Wednesday night. The Moose was a rough-looking two-story building about twenty miles downriver from Callup. It had a big, double-decker porch on the front and looked like something straight out of the 1880s, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. That’s when it was first built.
Originally it’d overlooked the river. The north fork had jumped its banks a while back, though, and now the building was half a mile away. Joe turned off the truck and looked in the rearview mirror, a shocked expression coming over his face. Then he made a disgusted, choking noise.
“Oh my God. Are they naked back there?” I asked, my voice a horrified whisper.
Joe burst out laughing and shook his head with a wink.
“Naw, just messin’ with you,” he said. “It’s all good. Let’s go inside and have some fun.”
An hour later I had to give Joe credit, because he knew how to show a girl a good time. First up, he’d introduced me to Teresa Thompson, declaring, “This is Blake’s friend. She’s scared because she’s a little drunk, and doesn’t want you to think she’ll be a shitty employee because of it.”
I’d started stammering, wondering what the hell I’d ever done to piss him off. Teresa just smiled and told me to sober up before I showed for work the next day and we’d be fine. I floundered some more, talking about school and wanting to do a good job. She told the bartender to give me drinks on the house, saying, “Welcome her to the Moose family right, Connor.”
Now I found myself dancing with Danielle in the center of a small dance floor while a local band played classics, wondering why the hell I’d been so dead set against bars. Were there a bunch of rough, tough guys in here? Definitely. But I had Blake and Joe watching my back, and while they weren’t quite as scary as Puck, they were more than enough to ward off any unwelcome attention.
Not that I got a lot.
Even dressed in my best, I was nothing compared to Danielle. Don’t get me wrong—I know I’m a pretty girl. But she has something going for her that I couldn’t beat. Boobs, specifically. Her plentiful cleavage was well and truly on display. Even wearing my lowest-cut V-neck T-shirt, I had nothing but mosquito bites on her.
Usually I liked that—I was all about keeping a low profile. Tonight I was feeling a little needy, though . . . Fortunately Joe came up behind me, sliding his hands around my waist and down to my hips. I felt damned good about myself after that, because there were lots of women scoping him out. He still only looked at me.
The band started playing some slow, soulful song that Regina loved—“The House of the Rising Sun.” I swayed back into him, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against his shoulder. The room swirled around me, but I didn’t care because his arms were strong and I felt safe.