CHAPTER THREE

“W ell, your references had nothing but amazing things to say about you,” Jagger said as he welcomed Chloe back to the bar the next afternoon. “I was on the phone with Clyde McGregor for nearly an hour. Man’s a talker.”

She chuckled. “Oh yes. He has a million stories.”

He held the back door open for her so they could enter through the kitchen. “I’m guessing I heard only one percent of them.”

“He’s got a heart of gold though.”

“So he really paid you to run the front desk for him at his campsite in Montana so he could attend his nephew’s wedding in Arizona?”

Chloe shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I worked there for a week so Clyde could train me. But then he left me to run the place for week. He hates flying. So he drove down, then drove back. Man hadn’t left Montana in over thirty years. But it was his favorite nephew, and he refused to miss the wedding. So I had to make sure the place was in one piece when he got back.”

Jagger handed her a black waist-apron for her to tie around her black jeans. She wore a black, short-sleeve, polo shirt and had her dark red hair pulled back in a casual bun with some whisps around her face. Nothing fancy. But still professional.

“I mean, if Clyde left the state after only knowing you for a week, that’s saying something. And Clyde says a lot of somethings.”

They both chuckled and he led her through the kitchen where she smiled and nodded at several staff members.

“Hey!” Wyatt waved at her from where he stood on the hot side, plating what looked like a delicious burger. “Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks.”

“This is Burke, Wyatt’s second-in-command,” Jagger said, introducing her to a tall, athletic man with tanned skin, short-cropped military-style hair, and blue-gray eyes with copper flecks around the irises.

Burke offered her his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Damn, was it a prerequisite to look like a model to work here?

They entered the restaurant side and Jagger brought her behind the bar where Dom was busy making a couple of rum and cokes. He only gave her a cursory glance, which was as icy as the cubes in the bottom of the lowballs.

“Your mentor with the bad attitude,” Jagger said, referring to Dom.

Her belly did a flop. Even after glowing references it seemed like Dom was still set on treating her like a housefly in a Moscow Mule.

Did he still think she was going to bail on them after two weeks? Or was there more behind his disdain? He was awfully triggered by her needing Halloween off. Maybe that was it?

Hopefully, it wasn’t because she’d essentially converted his brothers from Bloody Mary lovers to Ceasar fanatics. And it wasn’t like she was being hired to be his boss or anything. He still had total control over his bar. She was just coming in to make his life easier. So he could go spend time with his kid. She didn’t want to be anybody’s boss. She was happy being a grunt. Being an employee. She didn’t need extra responsibility. Not right now anyway.

An order popped up, and she figured better just jump in with both feet. So she reached for it off the ticket printer at the same time as Dom. Their fingers met.

A little jolt of electricity zapped her where they touched. And she could have sworn she saw a literal flicker of light spark.

They both pulled their hands away at the same time.

He gave her a curious look, then snatched the ticket off the machine. “I’ve got this.”

Huffing out a sigh, she glanced at Jagger for help.

Jagger, who was still hanging out behind the bar with them, made a noise of frustration, then shook his head. “Dom, make the G and T, then come find me in Bennett’s office.” Then he tossed a wink to Chloe and heading back through the kitchen.

Dom glanced at Chloe. “You could put the clean glasses away.”

She located the rotating glass cleaner and did just that, pulling the clean ones out and tucking or hanging them back where they belonged. Another order came up on the ticket and she waited to see if Dom would snatch that one too, or leave it for her and go find Jagger like he was supposed to.

Suddenly, she found herself in another staring contest with Man Bun Man. Only instead of staring at each other, they were staring at the ticket just laying there, waiting for someone to fulfill it.

Exhaling and shaking her head, she set down the glass she had in her hand, stepped forward, and grabbed the ticket. It was for a Negroni.

Easy peasy.

Dom watched her like a hawk as she made it. Which, of course, made her hands shake a little.

Damn him.

But she executed a perfect Negroni and set it on the bar for the server to come grab.

“Didn’t Jagger want you to go find him in Bennett’s office?” she asked him as the sound of another order coming in added to the cacophony of music, light chatter, and utensils on plates in the restaurant. “I think I can make a …” she glanced at the ticket, “vodka soda with lime.” Then she flashed him a big smile.

He replied with a stony expression then stomped off through the kitchen.

“Ignore Dom,” came a pretty, female voice. “He’s been in a mood for months. Ever since the server he hired for the summer killed one of our other servers, he hates everybody.”

Chloe gaped at the pretty, young woman with gray eyes and ice-blonde hair. “What happened?”

Whatever she was expecting the woman to say to justify Dom’s behavior, murder was absolutely not on that list. Did the murder happen here? She glanced down at the fatigue mat beneath her black loafers. Did a server die right where she was standing? A cold, heaviness crawled through her, leaving its footprints through her limbs and settling in her core until it ached.

The pretty server seemed entirely unaware of Chloe’s growing unease and simply shrugged. “Yeah. It was totally messed up. One of our servers, Nadine, got tangled up with some bad people, and Ginny found out. So Nadine killed her for it—at the hostel they were both staying in. Ginny was a server too.” She shook her head. “I really liked both of them. It’s so sad. Like Ginny was the nicest person.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she used long, fake nails to gently swipe a tear from beneath her eye, finally showing some emotion, which settled Chloe a little. Since The server was coming across alarmingly apathetic. “But ever since that, Dom just keeps firing any new bartender they hire. Probably because he finds something he can’t trust about them.” She was busy punching in an order on the POS. “I’m Renée, by the way.”

Chloe was still reeling from the bomb Renée just dropped. “Uh … Chloe. Nice to meet you.” She went about making the vodka soda with lime and put it on the bar. Then it hit her. Renée just said Ginny was murdered at the hostel. “Wait a sec …”

Renée lifted her brows to indicate she was listening.

“ I’m staying at the hostel.”

Renée grimaced. “I mean, it’s not like it was a bloodbath. She put a pillow over her face. And Hawke, who owns the hostel, is so great. His business is suffering since it happened. He’s trying to get away from the stigma of it being a Murder Hostel.”

Didn’t mean Chloe wasn’t going to lock her bedroom door and maybe move her nightstand in front of it when she went to bed tonight.

Another server joined them. “Hey! I’m Penny. Welcome.”

“I just told her about Nadine and Ginny,” Renée said, taking a sip of her water.

Penny’s brown eyes turned sad. “It was absolutely gutting.”

A third, and then a fourth, server joined them.

“This is Jillian and Quinton,” Penny said, referring to the beautiful dark-skinned woman, and the tall, lanky, runway-model-looking man. “Guys, this is Chloe. Hopefully she lasts longer than everyone else.”

They all nodded.

“Hey, Chloe. I’m just about to punch it in, but can I get a margarita not blended, so on the rocks, please?” Quinton said, flashing bright white teeth.

Chloe nodded, still a little rattled after learning she was staying in the Murder Hostel. “For sure.”

Boy, did she feel out of place. All these servers were younger than her. They would fit right in with the crowd at the hostel, but what on earth did she have in common with them?

She went about making the margarita in the shaker just as Dom came thundering back in, a scowl on his face. The staff scattered as if he was a foot and they were all ants about to be squashed.

“Renée,” Dom all but barked.

She skittered over. “Yes?”

“You’re covering the bar Halloween night. So I need you to train under Chloe. She has more experience bartending. So work together. You show her the ropes here, and she’ll teach you how to mix drinks. We’re moving you to her barback tomorrow night from the floor.”

“Where will you be?” Renée asked.

It was like it actually pained him to get the words out. “I’ll be off.”

Renée’s eyes went wide. “Silas is going to love having you home.”

“Wait, isn’t that Friday night?” Chloe asked. “Why are we being thrown to the wolves, or sharks, or whatever on a Friday?”

She could tell Dom had asked the same question. “Because it’s sink or swim,” he finally said.

“And all the guys just live up the hill. Like a five-minute walk,” Renée said with an awkward laugh. “So if we’re in a pinch, we can always call.”

“I’ve been told I’m not allowed to answer my phone,” he said through gritted teeth. “So you better figure it out, you two.”

Renée and Chloe gaped at each other.

“Sink or swim, and get eaten by sharks, huh?” Renée murmured before taking her tray and wandering away to go check on a table.

Chloe finished the margarita, and Quinton came to grab it. “Looks perf,” he said, throwing her a wink. “Thanks.”

She and Dom worked in total silence for almost two hours, and it was utterly painful.

He chatted like he hadn’t a care in the world with customers, but he was stingy with his words when it came to staff. He downright starved her of even a grunt, let alone anything remotely resembling a language found on earth. She would have settled for sign language. Not that she knew very much ASL. But it would have been better than the total disregard he showed her.

“How’s it going?” Jagger plunked himself down at the bar. “Interested in making me another one of those kickass Caesars?”

“Anything for the boss,” she said cheekily.

That got her the first noise from Dom—a grunt of disdain.

“I’m just as much a boss as you are, asshole,” Jagger said.

Dom merely lifted his brows at his brother.

“So, who is the oldest?” Chloe said, getting to work on the Caesar.

“Clint,” Jagger said. “He runs the brewery. You’ll meet him eventually. Then Bennett, who runs the business and finance portion of things. Then Wyatt, who you’ve met. He’s in the kitchen. Dom is next and he’s out front being the happiest, chattiest Kathy on the whole fucking island. And then I’m the beautiful baby. The biggest, handsomest, and most brilliant. And I do it all. I’m the floater.”

“The floater?”

“Yeah. I help Bennett out with the cabins. But I also pitch in behind the bar, or run food. I will fill in for a dishwasher if we can’t get one or somebody calls in sick. Clint doesn’t really trust me in the brewery to do anything but stick labels on things, but I’m the best at doing it. I’m also the only one without kids. So I do a lot of babysitting my nieces and nephews when the rest of the dads are working.”

She wanted to desperately ask where the mothers were, but she didn’t. The look they were getting from Dom told her she needed to drop this topic like a hot potato.

Once she strained the Caesar over the ice, she plunked in four pickled beans and slid the glass in front of Jagger. “I added a bit more tabasco and horseradish because you said you liked it hot.”

“I do like it hot.” He picked it up and took a sip, then closed his eyes. “Damn, girl. That’s good.”

Renée sidled up to Jagger. “What’d she make for you? That just looks like a Bloody Mary.”

“It’s better than a Bloody Mary. Try it,” Jagger said, sliding it to her.

She took a sip. “Oh! That’s got some kick.”

“That’s the horseradish, probably,” Chloe said with a grin as another order came through on the ticket machine. “And the tabasco. Though, I actually prefer Louisiana Hot Sauce. It’s more flavorful than Tabasco, in my opinion.”

A scoff behind her had her turning around. Dom was busy ripping off the ticket, but his scoff wasn’t from the drink order.

“Dom, are we going to put Chloe’s drink on the special’s board? Because I think we should,” Renée asked. “It’s great. What is it?”

“It’s a Caesar. Basically, a Bloody Mary but made with Clamato instead of tomato juice. And then I add horseradish because I like the kick and flavor it adds.”

“Yeah.” Renée nodded and took another sip of Jagger’s. “That’s really good. We definitely need to add that to the board.”

Dom was busy pouring a lager from the tap. But he looked as though he’d just bitten into a rotten egg. “You could cut more fruit for garnishes,” he said to her, plunking the full, beautifully poured pint on the bar for Renée to grab.

She nodded. “You got it.” She located the fruit, cutting board, and knife and went to work.

Jagger sat there and chatted with her, casually drinking his Caesar. And any time a customer came up and asked him what he was drinking, he made sure to tell them it was her idea, and just how delicious it was. By the time he left, she’d made six more Caesars for different people, all while Dom’s glares just grew hotter and hotter.

“What are you doing?” he asked so abruptly she jumped where she stood.

She’d had to make so many Caesars that she kept being pulled away from her job of cutting up garnishes. But now that things had died down a bit, she could resume her slicing.

“I’m slicing limes?”

“Yeah, but why are you cutting them there?”

“Where?”

“In the flesh part.”

Her bottom lip dropped open. “I’m making a deliberate cut so that when we put the garnish on the glass it goes on nicely and we don’t have to just shove it on. I noticed when I made the vodka soda that the limes weren’t sliced and … I’ve always done it like this wherever I’ve worked. It’s more efficient.”

“No, it’s not. It’s taking you more time because you’re doing another cut. You’d be done by now if you weren’t wasting time doing that.”

Oh, this man.

She understood his lack of trust now that she knew about the other two servers. But he was splitting hairs at this point and looking for stupid reasons to probably fire her. Up until now—hell, including now—she’d been absolutely perfect. She hadn’t dropped a glass or messed up an order. Everything went out with speed, care, and precision. And the only reason she was still cutting up garnishes was because she kept getting pulled away to make more Caesars.

“I’m sorry, Dom,” she said gently. “I am going to disagree with you though. I am still cutting garnishes because I had to stop to make other drinks. Drinks that brought in money. This small extra step, however, is not a waste of time. In the long run it is more efficient and tidier. It stops juice from running down the outside of the glass and making it sticky. And maybe this will get me fired, but I’m also going to make the suggestion that we move the garnishes down to the counter and off the bar. The counter is much more sanitary. The bar is subjected to all the airborne sneezes, coughs, and dust from people putting on their coats and sweaters.”

His nostrils flared and his cheeks burned red. The man looked close to bursting a blood vessel in his eye.

But he didn’t say anything. She took his silence as a “yes,” and moved the tray of garnishes down to the counter and out of the range of sneezes. Then she went back to slicing her citrus.

She worked for another hour before Dom said she could take a break.

She didn’t want to take a break, but she took one because heaven forbid she argue with him about something else. The tension behind the bar was thick enough to spread on a bagel and garnish with capers and smoked salmon.

“Psst,” came a voice from the kitchen as she was grabbing her phone from her purse to check her messages.

She glanced up to find Burke at the food window and he was subtly not-so-subtly telling her she needed to come into the back.

She glanced at Dom, but he was laughing with a customer.

Talk about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

She ducked through the swinging doors. “What’s up?”

“How are you holding up?” Burke asked. “Dom hasn’t scared you off yet?”

“I’ve dealt with bigger bullies than Dom. It just makes the work atmosphere strained is all. But I can handle myself.”

“Yeah, you can.” Burke grinned.

“He’s making me go on a break though.”

Nodding, Burke used tongs to place delicious looking fries on a plate that had a club sandwich, then he put it in the food window. “So, staff get a free meal while on shift, and fifty percent off meals when they’re off shift. You also get a free after-shift drink. I’ve got a lull in the kitchen now. So tell me what you’d like and I’ll make it. On or off the menu.”

She blew out a breath through duck lips. “Oh, wow. I haven’t even looked at the menu yet. What do you recommend? Or better yet, surprise me.”

His eyes lit up. “Any allergies or foods you don’t like?”

“I don’t eat pork and I’m not a huge fan of savory dishes with really sweet elements. Like sweet Thai chili is fine, but I feel like sometimes the sweetness is too pronounced and it just doesn’t work. If that makes sense?”

Burke’s head bobbed. “No pork and not too sweet. I think I can work with that. Give me fifteen minutes?”

“I’m going to run to the washroom and check my phone.”

He was already grabbing vegetables and chopping. “Sounds good.”

So far, everyone in the restaurant had been incredibly nice to her. Everyone but Dom, that is.

It couldn’t just be because he didn’t trust anybody anymore after what happened with his staff that summer? There had to be more to it. Right?

Was he just a suspicious person by nature?

Wyatt and Jagger called him a control freak which was something she very much understood since she could be one herself. But the fact that the moment she arrived for her interview he hated her, meant there had to be something else to his disdain.

Recently, she’d started doing some research into reincarnation and past lives, and the more she fell down the rabbit hole, the more she believed that energy was everlasting. Once we were brought onto the earth, our energy never disappeared, it just changed form.

Had they met in a past life and were sworn enemies? Was he reacting to her in a way that not even he understood? Because she’d certainly felt drawn and repelled from people from the get-go without being able to explain why.

It had to be something like that.

She finished up in the washroom, then washed her hands just as the door to the women’s room opened and Penny walked in. “How are you doing?” Penny asked, checking her hair in the mirror.

“I like it here,” Chloe replied, being honest.

“It’s a great place to work. Head’s up though, the Sewing Circle just walked in.” She disappeared into a stall.

“And the ‘Sewing Circle’ is …?”

“Are we alone?”

Chloe checked for feet beneath the other three stalls. “Yep.”

“They’re a group of eight ladies between the ages of like fifty and eighty. Mostly, they’re wonderful and nice. But they’re stingy tippers, and Jolene Dandy is part of the group and she’s the Island Mouth. So as soon as she sees you, by midnight the whole island will know the pub has a pretty, new bartender.”

“The Island Mouth?”

“Gossipy woman. Don’t tell her anything you don’t want advertised to the world. Don’t even speculate with her.” Penny emerged from the stall and approached the sink to wash her hands, meeting Chloe’s gaze in the mirror. “They’ll all come up and introduce themselves. Ask you your life’s story and then make assumptions if you don’t fill in the blanks.” Her smile was crooked as she reached for a paper towel to dry her hands. “They also stay for hours and order tea, salads, and fries. And they’re here every single day.” Her brows lifted, then she reached into the front pocket of her black jeans and pulled out a shiny, pink-hued lip gloss that she slathered on her lips. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then she flashed Chloe a wink before disappearing back out the door.

Make assumptions if you don’t fill in the blanks.

Great! Just great.

Pulling in a deep breath and inflating her cheeks, Chloe blew out with exaggeration. She didn’t want anybody knowing her story. She didn’t want pity. She didn’t want apologies, or people talking about her or her family.

She came to the island searching for peace. To start over, and maybe set down some roots. New roots.

After a few calming breaths, she left the bathroom but hung out in the back of the kitchen on her phone while Burke worked on her meal. Whatever he was making smelled incredible.

There were a few messages from her parents asking her to check in. So she sent them an update on her location and where she was working. Brenda and Mike Voss had long stopped trying to get her to return home to North Dakota. There were too many memories there. Too many reminders. She knew it hurt them that their only child had run away from the pain, but they also understood. They were also very different from her in their grief.

Elliott had been their only grandchild, and they adored him. But they also wanted to keep his memory alive by talking about him—constantly. And Chloe just couldn’t. It was too painful. Everywhere she turned, every corner of their acreage conjured a memory of her little boy, and she just couldn’t handle it. So she left. They honored her desire to stay on the move, but requested that she at least check in every other day with a text message to let them know she was safe and where she was working. She also acquiesced their request that she allow them to have her on the “find your friend” phone app.

She knew what it was like to have a parent’s worry. So she didn’t begrudge them theirs.

One day, hopefully, she’d be strong enough to return home—even just for a visit. She wasn’t there yet though. Not even close.

“Lunch is ready,” Burke called after a few more minutes of Chloe just scrolling Instagram mindlessly.

She tucked her phone in her back pocket, tossed on a smile, and reached for the plate he held out to her. “That is a spicy Asian cucumber salad with tuna loin and slaw, wrapped in nori. There’s pickled daikon, carrot, and onion in there too.” His smile was big, but there was apprehension in his eyes.

It looked absolutely delicious to her, and she picked it up right there and took a bite. Her eyes closed as she moaned. “Oh my god,” she mumbled with a full mouth, then opened her eyes. “Burke, this is incredible.”

He relaxed. Now his smile and eyes matched.

“And you just made this up on the fly?” She took an even bigger bite.

He shrugged. “Kind of. I mean, we have tuna loin on the menu, and we put the cucumber salad on top of our fried rice dish. Then we have an Indonesian fried rice dish that we put the pickled veg on top of. I like nori as a substitute for tortillas because they’re less filling and healthier. It just doesn’t work for all dishes.”

She had almost finished it. “Well, you can make this, or whatever else you want, for me every day. This is amazing. I’m eating it so fast because it’s so good.”

His tanned cheeks grew ruddy just as a ticket printed on the machine indicating a new order.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, taking one last bite. “Thank you so much. This hit the spot. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was.”

“We never do until it’s too late and we’re tearing into a bag of chips like a rabid raccoon, or biting people’s heads off with a severe case of the ‘hangries,’” Burke said with a chuckle as he slapped a beef patty on the flattop grill.

“Chloe?” Dom barked from the front of the house. “A little help?”

“Shit,” she muttered, pushing the swinging door open only to see the restaurant now full and the ticket machine whirring away like a hamster on speed in his wheel. “Sorry.” She quickly stashed her phone back with her purse beneath the bar, washed her hands, and grabbed the next ticket. Even though she didn’t look at him as she filled up the pitcher with San Camanez Harvest Lager, she knew Dom was glaring at her. His stare was hot and intense.

And she hated the way it made the butterflies in her belly wake up and go berserk.

Yeah, working for Dom McEvoy wasn’t going to be easy. But at least he was pretty to look at.

Even when he scowled.