“All the good guys are taken,” I say as I enter Nydia’s shop searching for something sweet that will dilute the anger running through my veins.
“No, they aren’t,” she states. “You’re just looking in the wrong places, like Luna Harbor. Not that I mind, but why are you here in the middle of the day? Are we slacking?”
I show her a chocolate bar. “I need sugar, or I might maim one of my employees or several of the patrons that tour Wicked Luna today.”
“You know how to fix that,” she says.
“By quitting?”
She grins. “That could work. The other is contacting the temp agency so they can send someone out to help you out.”
I roll my eyes because she sounds like a broken record. “Mr. Matthews said today, help is on the way. I want to believe that’s true. If anything, I already sent a request for two temporary employees.”
Her playful smile stretches when she asks, “Are they hot?”
I glare. “I didn’t ask them to send me their profile pictures or Tinder handles.”
She marches to a shelf where she picks up a bag. Then, she grabs the chocolate from me, and shoves said bag into my hand. “Here, these gummies should keep you calm for the rest of the day. You don’t have time to go to the police station, and I don’t have bail money.”
I’m ready to murder someone. She’s right. I wave the lavender gummies bag. “How much for this?”
“It’s on the house,” she answers, concentrating on her computer.
“Nydia,” I say her name as if saying, are-you-kidding-me? She needs paying customers, not a needy friend who comes and steals candy every time she has the urge to murder someone.
“Siobhan,” she says my name and adds, “Leave, I have things to do, and you have a beer empire to run.”
“Honestly, I should just quit,” I finally say it out loud.
I came here for a different reason. Who thought that Luna Harbor and a family could be my future? Maybe me, when I had a guy who I thought loved me. Who knew he’d meet someone else during his trips to the city? Loyalty is hard to find these days.
Asshole.
Nydia’s body tenses. “There’s always that option. I’ll miss you, but with your qualifications, you can get a better job in the city.”
“I can’t just quit. Mr. Cantú needs me,” I mumble.
The poor guy and I are like soulmates—two people who don’t have a family or anyone to love—or love us.
Today shall be remembered as hell day.
Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong and then some. I’m trying to keep up with the orders at the sports bar when it happens.
It’s too fast. One minute I’m heading toward the kitchen holding a tray, and the next, someone pushes me. I hear the voice before a pair of strong arms catch me.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole.” The same voice says, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
Unfortunately, I can only hold onto the tray and not the pitcher and glasses I carried on it.
“Thank you,” I say, once I find my balance, looking down at the damage on the floor.
Thankfully, the busboy is already approaching with the roll-in bucket, the mop, and the sweeper.
“I got it, Ms. Walker.”
“Thank you, Arnold,” I say instead of correcting him. It’s Walters.
When I move my gaze to take a good look at my savior, I almost gasp. He’s nearly a foot taller than my five-five, with broad shoulders. I wonder if he’s lean and athletic under that suit. He exudes male perfection. If I wasn’t busy worrying about running the sports bar, I’d drag him to the office and see how virile he is.
His dark, chocolate eyes stare at me as if he’s waiting for my next move. He’s so handsome, I want to grab the collar of his white shirt and kiss him. God knows I haven’t kissed anyone in a million years. I bet this guy would stop my heart just by touching me with his sinful lips.
I count to ten, controlling the lust and reminding myself that I’m in a public place. At work. In front of the sexiest specimen I’ve ever seen in my life. Nydia was right. You can find perfect men outside Luna Harbor. If only they stopped by more often.
“You okay?” he asks, touching my head lightly and then caressing my face. “Did you bang your head?”
His touch makes my skin sizzle. He’s a hot grill, and I’m just about to be well-done.
“I’m fine,” I confirm, dusting off my jeans. “Would you like a table?”
He looks around. “It seems like it’s not your night, is it?”
“You have no idea,” I confirm without adding or my month, year, maybe I should get myself a new life. “We have some room at the bar. Tell Tim, the bartender, that you’re our guest for the night.”
He frowns, almost the same way Mr. Cantú does when something isn’t running smoothly. He must be a controlling suit that can’t relax even when he’s on vacation. “Do you have these special guests often?” He dares to ask.
Since the customer is always right, I disregard his tone and say, “I’m not sure if this has been done before, and I don’t want to lie. But I feel like it’s the least I could do after you helped me.”
“Don’t think that I just saved you to get a free meal. But if you’re offering, we can discuss other kinds of… payment,” he says flirtatiously.
Laughing, I point toward the empty barstool. “Have a nice dinner.”
“I will if you tell me your name,” he says with a deep voice rich with sensuality.
I wave my fingers and walk away.
Three hours later, as I’m leaving the sports bar, that same crisp male voice that’s been playing in my head says, “Are you off?”
“Are you stalking me?”
He lifts his arms, palms facing toward me as if saying, I’m innocent. Added to it is a crooked grin that makes my knees wobble. “I wouldn’t dare. This was a coincidence.”
Lifting my gaze toward the dark empty streets, I wonder if I should call the sheriff. Not that he’s awake. That man goes to bed at nine and doesn’t bother to check on the town until the next morning.
“I want to believe you, but—”
“Then believe me,” he interrupts me. Looking up to the sky. “I forgot how gorgeous it is outside.”
“You live in a cave?”
“Are you fishing for information?”
“Maybe,” I answer, looking up at the night sky. This is part of the magic of Luna Harbor. The blanket of stars filled with constellations and the souls of those who left this Earth. At least, that’s what Mom used to say when she was still alive. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“According to my father, our grandmother used to tell a story of how our ancestors lived in the stars. They illuminate our paths during the night,” he says, still looking at the sky in awe.
“She sounds like a wise woman,” I mumble.
He shrugs, moving his attention toward me. “I wouldn’t know, she died before I was born.”
Something flickers in his eyes. I’m not sure how it happens, but the next thing I know, his mouth comes down on mine.