One Night Charmer Page 8

  It was the kind of place that got underneath your skin. He hadn’t truly noticed it until he left. Until he’d spent years traveling across the country on the rodeo circuit, until he had settled in Texas, making plans on the Lone Star State being his permanent home.

  But the need for mountains was in his blood. Pine trees and sharp salt air that burrowed beneath your skin. That made every breath taken in any other place taste wrong somehow.

  So that was why he had come back. It was why he was here now. It was why he stayed.

  Even though when he’d rolled back into town all those years ago, it hadn’t felt quite like he’d imagined. Sure, the air was the same. The main street was the same. Most of the people were the same.

  But he was different. He supposed that made everything else feel a little different, too.

  You can’t go home again, and all that stuff.

  He got into his truck, starting the engine. He had to stop back home, deposit his supplies, and then make his way over to the bar. Where he was sure to have another uncomfortable encounter. With a woman he felt decidedly unbrotherly toward.

  He thought back to last night. To his close encounter with Sierra.

  She wouldn’t beg. That was the thing. That was why he’d said that. To make it easy to keep his hands off her.

  When she had closed the distance between them last night, when those delicate fingers brushed against the collar of his shirt, he had been certain of one thing. He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting any woman in recent years.

  In fact, there had only ever been one woman like that in his memory. Only one woman he had ever lost his control with. One woman he had abandoned good sense to have.

  And that had ended in a fiery crash of doom that had destroyed him and everything around it.

  She wouldn’t beg. So he wouldn’t touch her. It was that simple.

  And maybe tonight he would find another woman to take home. Someone who would help him take the edge off of this need, this arousal.

  That was a much better thought than his family and Sierra combined.

  He would focus on that, and forget the rest. He was good at forgetting the bad things. Everyone needed to have their strengths.

  He cranked up the radio, turning up the country station. And he looked out the window at the view, that cleansing, perfect view. Misty clouds dropping low over the pine trees, casting everything in a muted shade of gray that extended down to the ocean, liquid fog stretching as far as the eye could see.

  For a few blissful moments, there was nothing except the song on the radio, and that view.

  And he definitely did not think about Sierra West.

  * * *

  SIERRA WAS KICKING ASS and taking names tonight. Well, she was kicking metaphorical ass and taking orders for food and drink. But in her world right now, it amounted to the same thing.

  Everything felt a little more familiar tonight, and she didn’t feel quite so much like she was flailing around in the dark as she completed her tasks. And whenever she found herself not busy with customers, she went and folded bar towels. Because she knew how to do that. She also didn’t ask Ace for help.

  After last night, she didn’t know how to deal with him. Well, really, she didn’t know how to deal with herself. When it came to Ace she was in a whole seascape of uncharted water. But at least she felt like she had some guideposts here in the bar.

  She proudly delivered another order back to the kitchen, then set about to straightening up while she waited exactly five minutes to go check on her last table. She was determined to do an excellent job. And she was doing an excellent job.

  She wasn’t a stranger to trying hard. She didn’t half-ass her horse riding. She took barrel racing seriously. Mostly because if she didn’t, she knew she could wind up flat on her back on the ground in the arena, getting trampled by her own steed. But she was starting to realize that life was a whole lot more like barrel racing than she had initially given it credit for.

  And lo, she had been trampled by the steed.

  But she was getting back up. That was important. If she was sticking with the horse analogies, then it meant that when you got thrown off life, you just had to get back on. She frowned. Well, she wasn’t exactly getting right back on. That implied going back to doing the same thing. She was changing things. Everything. She was after some kind of ownership in her daily existence. Because before this she’d had none. Everything belonged to her father, to the West family.

  Well, she was going to get some things that belonged to her. Starting with this work experience.

  She turned back around with her stack of folded bar towels, ready to put them under the counter, and paused when she saw her sister, Madison, standing there. “Maddy. What are you doing here?”

  “Colton told me you were here.” Madison wrinkled her nose, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. “He said you had a job.”

  “Yes.” She was still clutching the stack of towels. “This is my job.”

  “You’re a...barmaid?”

  “I’m not a barmaid. It’s not like I’m wearing lederhosen.”

  “I don’t think you have to wear lederhosen to be a barmaid.” Madison held on to her purse, clutching it tightly in front of her, as though she was afraid if she released her hold on it she might have to touch something else. As though the place might infect her. “I think you just have to be a maid. Who works at a bar.”

  “I’m serving tables.”

  “You could just come home.”

  Oh, there was the bottom line. “No, Madison,” she said, emphasizing her sister’s full name, which she rarely used, “I can’t. And you of all people should understand why.”

  Madison’s expression turned to stone. “Whatever I’ve been through in the past isn’t really about this. I know that finding out about Dad hurt. It hurts me. Finding out that Jack is related to us, that he spent all of his life with nothing so the dick could protect his reputation... I don’t like it. And my staying is not an endorsement. But my life is at the ranch. I don’t see the point in burning everything down because of Dad. Mom is in the car...”

  Sierra’s heart twisted. “How is she?”

  “I think not as surprised as the rest of us. Upset. But you know she isn’t going to do anything.”

  Her throat tightened. “I just can’t. I’m not upset at you, or Mom, or Colton for not... I just can’t.”

  “Why? I mean, honestly, you’re right. If anyone was going to leave because of this, you would think it would be me. Cheating married men are basically my least favorite. But my business is tied to the West family ranch, and to Dad’s name. And I can’t just overlook everything that he’s done for us because of a mistake he made over thirty years ago. It’s a mistake that’s older than we are, Sierra. We’ve never known him before the mistake.”

  “You keep calling it a mistake. But a mistake is something that happens once. And you don’t mean to do it. Every year, every birthday, he ignored Jack. And he kept on doing it year after year—”

  “Don’t tell me you have warm fuzzy feelings for Jack Monaghan,” Madison said.

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “He was fine without involving himself in our business from where I’m standing. Anyway, I just don’t believe that’s the primary problem you have with Dad.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t really know how I feel about Jack. That’s true enough. But... I’m a West. That’s what I am. My name is everything to me. It got me everywhere I’ve ever gone in life. But it isn’t what I thought it was. This whole reputation that Dad has constructed... How many lies is it built out of?”

  Madison’s green eyes softened. “I know. I know that’s hard. But does it matter? Dad loves you. He loves us.”

  “And he doesn’t love his other son. He...he
sold him. Traded him for a spotless reputation. I understand why Mom can’t leave him. But I wish she would. I wish she would ask for better.”

  “It isn’t that simple. Do you honestly think at this point being a sixty-year-old divorcée is better for Mom than just sticking it out with him? Colton is getting married. There will be grandchildren. She needs her marriage for everything she does, for everything she loves. She could let go of it because of pride but then...what would she have?”

  “I guess she might have to be a barmaid,” Sierra said.

  “I wish you would reconsider. I miss you. You could move out of the main house and come live in my little villa. You wouldn’t even have to pass Dad coming and going.”

  “Maddy...I love you. And I miss you. I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since I left. I’m not mad at you for staying, I’m really not.”

  “I’m not mad at you for leaving. I just wish I could understand. Why all this... I mean, if you’re going to be upset anyway, why not be upset...not working in a bar?”

  “I have to prove this to myself, Maddy. I have to find a way to be something other than a West. I have to do it now. And I should have done it a long time ago.”

  “I like hiding behind the name, personally,” Madison said. “I tried to step out from Dad’s shadow once. Now I have a scandal and a ruined career to my name. All before I turned eighteen. Yay me.”

  “None of that crap with David was your fault.” Just thinking about that time in Madison’s life made Sierra angry all over again. “He lied to you. People are assholes so they blamed the actions of a thirty-five-year-old man on a seventeen-year-old girl. This isn’t that. I’m twenty-five. I need to... I need to figure myself out.”

  “I’m twenty-seven and I still haven’t done that.”

  “The dressage lessons, and training and all that...that’s your world. It’s who you are. I just manage the office. I got a business degree so I could do that. I don’t know if I care about business. Not that I regret my education but... I really wanted to barrel race. To travel with the rodeo. But that wasn’t in the plan, so I didn’t. You would be leaving something that matters to you if you left the ranch. I’m not. I don’t know what matters to me anymore. I don’t know if I want to go hard-core after racing. I don’t know how I want to earn a living. I don’t even know how I would decorate my room if it were up to me and not Mom’s designer.” She let out a long, slow breath. “I think I should figure all that out, don’t you?”

  “I guess. And I’d better leave you to it. I would stay for a drink, but...Mom.”

  Sierra smiled. “You wouldn’t stay. You hate places like this. You’d rather be at a vineyard having chardonnay.”

  “Silly.” Madison winked. “I like Shiraz better.”

  “We’ll do something fancy with my first paycheck. Like wine and appetizers at Beaches. Or, if I make crappy tips tonight, diet soda and Tic Tacs at Colton’s.”

  Her sister laughed. “Right. Well, maybe we’ll land in the middle with Perrier and fish and chips? Dare to dream?”

  “Depends on how much I wiggle my hips when I clear out the tables, I suppose.”

  Madison leaned in, still careful not to touch the counter. “I’ll call you. I hope you’re keeping garlic under your pillow.”

  “Why?”

  “To ward off Natalie, the undead fiancée.”

  “Ha. No. No garlic. I hung a crucifix on my door, though. That seemed to do it.”

  “Good.”

  “If I get infected, promise you’ll kill me.”

  “I promise. Because I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Sierra said, her heart tightening a little.

  Madison turned away, offering a small wave as she waded through the crowd at the bar and walked out the door. Sierra looked out at all the people, all the orders she had to fulfill. Well, she’d chosen this now. So she was going to wait some damn tables.

  Tonight’s shift went much faster. She didn’t have any unpleasant encounters with people she knew. In fact, most people she recognized had been nice to her, if a little concerned-looking at seeing her so out of context.

  But by the end of the night she wasn’t as ready to fall into a heap on the floor. She actually felt energized, even though it was well past time for her coach to turn into a pumpkin. She might actually get used to this.

  Maybe waiting tables was like training for a marathon. You could work up to it. Or maybe she was on some weird high that would end tomorrow when she had to roll out of bed feeling like crumpled newspaper wrapped around chewed-up gum.

  The bar was empty, most of the employees heading out. And she was lingering. Because Ace wasn’t anywhere to be seen and she didn’t want to leave before she was in his eye line. She wouldn’t let him accuse her of slacking off or leaving early or...going out to get emergency eyeliner or whatever BS he would try to pull to both compromise her job and mock her poor little rich girl status.

  She wasn’t going to give him an opening. She had performed perfectly tonight, and she was not going to give him a chance to say otherwise. He wanted her to fail. She had no idea why he seemed so invested in her failure, even as he had her here on staff. Honestly, it didn’t make sense.

  But, regardless of what she had said the other night, she actually hadn’t ever read the hipster bartender handbook. So the workings of his brain truly were a secret. And she was content to keep it that way.

  She walked by his office somewhat conspicuously, hoping that the sound of her footsteps would make him open the door. Nothing.

  She paced in front of the door again, making sure to stomp a little bit louder this time. Still nothing.

  She let out an exasperated sigh, then turned to face the door, raising her hand, getting ready to knock. As she was about to bring it down, the door swung open, and there was Ace. Looking as cranky and attractive as he always did. His dark hair was disheveled, the stubble on his jaw looking all rakish and sexy.

  She supposed he didn’t always look cranky. He didn’t scowl like this when he was dealing with women in the bar. That seemed to be reserved for her.

  She wondered if she should feel special.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted you to know that I’m going to leave now, because everything is clean.”

  “Okay. Go. You don’t have to check in with me, no one else does.”

  “I didn’t figure you would trust that I hadn’t knocked off work early and had a couple of the other employees carry me out of here on a rickshaw.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “I don’t think that. Anyway, you can go.” He turned, preparing to go back into his office.

  “Are you staying?” She had no idea why she was asking. She should be leaving as quickly as possible. Staying was like willingly putting her foot into a badger trap. “Because it’s awfully late to be doing things in the office.” Foot. Trap.

  “Oh, I’m not working. I’m just watching porn.”

  “What kind?” What kind? Really?

  He turned toward her again, treating her to a lopsided smile that was a whole lot more interesting than it had any right to be. “The kind with spreadsheets. And fabric swatches.” At her blank look, he shrugged. “Actually, it’s just some planning that I’m doing for the new brewery I’m opening.”

  “Okay, that makes a lot more sense than the porn thing.”

  His smile broadened, and she felt compelled to return it. “I guess that depends on what you’re into.”

  “Not spreadsheets. But you do you.”

  “I really hate this, actually. Especially all the decorating stuff. It all looks the same to me. There aren’t any curtains in here. Most of the decor was in place when I took over. This is kind of all new. Plus, the brewery is supposed to be a li
ttle more upscale. Meanwhile, I’m not all that upscale.”

  “You’re not?” she asked, planting her hand on her hip.

  He was making her smile. And she realized now that the gesture was a little bit flirtatious. She wasn’t sure she cared.

  You should. You’re supposed to be proving that you’re a good waitress, not that you’re good at picking up guys.

  She dropped her hand back to her side.

  “Do you think I could use flannel upholstery on the furniture? The curtains, too?”

  “Why not? Maybe you could go with the whole lumberjack theme. Individual fireplaces by the tables, people could chop their own wood. It would be cozy.”

  “I think you might be overtired.”

  “I’ll bet you are, too,” she said, not quite sure why she cared, only that she did.

  “Sure. But I’m basically running two businesses right now. And one is a little bit of a problem child.”

  “I can help you with that,” she said. And as soon as the words slipped out, she realized she should. She had done a good job waiting tables today, but she wasn’t exactly going to win an award for it. It was also a skill a lot of people could hone, possibly faster than she could. But there were a few skills in life she knew she’d honed to perfection. Event planning, interior design. She was such a cliché. She blamed her mother. Or had her mother to thank. She wasn’t sure which. “I mean, my mother hosts a lot of charity events, and I’ve spent a lot of time helping with menus, and wine lists. Decorations... Anyway, I’m just saying this type of planning isn’t hard for me. It’s something I actually know how to do. So if you ever get tired of hanging out in your office until three in the morning, I’m on hand.”

  “You have experience with all of that?”

  “Yes, I do. And you can pay me minimum wage to help.”

  “But you won’t make tips like you do here.”

  She didn’t even have to weigh that. She would take less money to do something that made better use of her skills. She was willing to do her best at waitressing, but managing a project like this and helping with decor sounded much more appealing than spending all night on her feet. “That’s okay.”