Page 7 of When We Are Falling
The night wears on, and I move through the bar, filling orders, cracking jokes, and doing my best to keep the energy high. As I hand a drink to a regular, I catch a glimpse of the news on the phone in his hand—images of oil-slicked beaches and struggling wildlife flash across the screen.
My heart sinks, feeling sick about the wider impact of the spill. I’m worried about the Tavern, but I love these beaches, this place. I may not have grown up here, but it’s home.
“Blake, we’re out of gin,” Lucy calls out, snapping me back to the present.
“I’ll grab some from the back.”
I head down the narrow corridor to the storeroom, pausing in the small, dimly lit space that smells of beer and the sharp tang of spirits, and lean against the wall. The moment of quiet gives me a chance to breathe, to center myself. No matter what, I need to keep my worries about the Tavern from Mom.
Back behind the bar, I hand Lucy the gin and see the Valiant Hearts boys walk in—Patrick, Lucy’s brother Jake, Antonio, and Mike. By the time they make their way to the bar, I’ve got their usual orders lined up and ready.
“Hey, guys. It’s on your tab.” A lump forms in my throat as they take their drinks and thank me. It’s impossible to be around the guys and not think about Danny.
Patrick looks at me, a serious expression on his face. “Thanks, appreciate it.”
They head upstairs, no doubt to discuss the oil spill. A short time later, the door swings open again, and in stroll Liam and Ethan, late as usual. My eyes lock with Ethan’s, and a surge of heat floods through me. How could it not? He’s gorgeous—black curly hair, those piercing gray eyes, and an athletic build that draws every girl’s attention.
“Blake,” Liam greets me with a friendly smile. He looks like a fairer version of his older brother Patrick, but the two couldn’t be more different.
“Hey, you two. Your usual?”
As I pour their drinks, Ethan’s eyes are on me. I hand him a beer, condensation running down the glass.
“Thanks,” Ethan says, his voice smooth and warm.
“Anytime. How’s our bird rescue going? Any news?”
“He’s doing well the last time I checked in with the rehabilitation center.” Ethan holds my gaze and a tickle of heat warms my core, until Liam calls his name.
They head upstairs to join the others, and a guy at the end of the bar catches my eye, waving me over. I plaster on my professional smile and head in his direction.
“Hey there, beautiful.” He leans in closer than necessary. He’s already drunk. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks. What’s your name?”
“Blake,” I reply, setting his drink in front of him a moment later. “Can I get you anything else?”
“How about your number?” His teeth are too small for his mouth, and his eyes rove over me in a way that makes my skin crawl.
I force a laugh. “Sorry, not on the menu.”
He doesn’t take the hint. “Aw, come on? I can show a girl like you a good time, trust me.”
“I’m busy working,” I say firmly, turning away to help Lucy with a big order.
But he’s more insistent than most, getting up from his stool and following me as I head back toward the storeroom to get some more vodka and lime juice.
“Don’t be like that,” he says, trying to grab my arm.
I brush him off, irritation bubbling just below the surface. “I said no. How about you go back to your seat and we can both get on with our nights?”
He follows me into the narrow hallway, bumping against one of the walls as he stumbles. “Just one night, gorgeous. What’s the harm? You and me could burn the house down.”
I’m about to turn and give him a piece of my mind when a familiar voice cuts through the tension. “She said back off. Leave her alone, buddy.”
Pivoting to see Ethan standing there, his presence filling the narrow space, anger sharpening his features. The guy looks at Ethan, taking in the broad of his shoulders, the expression on his face, like he’d think nothing about putting the guy in the hospital.
After shooting me a filthy look, the guy mutters something under his breath aboutfrigid bitchesand edges around Ethan, retreating back to the bar. Ethan steps closer, his eyes intense as he looks me up and down, making sure I’m not hurt.
The air feels thick and electric, like walking into a room filled with buzzing neon lights. It’s almost tangible, the tingling sensation you get when lightning is about to strike.