CHAPTER FIVE

“D ean! Throw me that deodorant. I can’t find mine!” Hollered some twenty-something loud-mouthed jerk right outside Chloe’s door at the hostel, waking her up from a deep sleep. Even with earplugs in, she heard that numbskull.

Then of course, when Dean threw the deodorant, his idiot friend couldn’t catch for shit, and the stick hit Chloe’s door with a jarring whack .

Both boys—because face it, they were boys and probably always would be—started to chortle.

“Shit. Hopefully we didn’t wake that chick up,” one of them said.

“Sorry,” the other one said with a chuckle. “Go back to sleep.”

Growling, Chloe pulled out one earplug, then leaned over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone. It was only eight in the morning.

Christ almighty. She didn’t start work until four.

Unfortunately, she’d never been one of those people who could fall back to sleep once she was awake. Now, she was up for the day.

Growling again, she tossed back the covers, slid into her flip-flops—because like hell was she going barefoot in a hostel—and slapped her way to the bathroom.

She had a long hot shower, even though she’d also had one last night, and took her time getting dressed. She threw her hair into two Dutch braids, grabbed her water bottle, and was out the door.

There was a yoga class at the local yoga studio that started at eight forty-five that she hoped to make. And luckily, she always kept a yoga mat in her car, should the mood to suddenly do a pigeon or deer pose strike her.

The yoga studio was not too far of a drive—nothing on the island was—and set against a gorgeous backdrop of a wildflower garden and grove of trees. The studio itself was an enormous yurt.

She parked her car and followed the masses to the front door, the butterflies in her belly increasing their intensity the closer she got.

An introvert by nature, she had to mentally prepare herself for new things. Yes, she could chat with strangers. Yes, she could go to social functions and meet people. It just took a bit more self-talk ahead of time. She would also need to then go somewhere by herself for a while to recharge before she went to work where she’d have to be with people for hours on end.

“Hello and welcome,” came the breathy voice of a beautiful blonde woman with pastel, floral sleeve tattoos and a septum piercing. “Are you new?”

Chloe swallowed and smiled. “I am, yes.”

“Well, welcome. I’m Lotus. Have you ever done yoga before?”

“Oh, yes.”

Lotus’s smile widened. “Perfect. This is a vinyasa flow class. Take it at your own pace. Do what works for you. If you need to take a break and just relax in savasana you are welcome to do so.” She spoke with such a calm and centered voice, it instantly relaxed Chloe’s frazzled nerves. “I see you brought your own mat and towel. That’s so great. The first class is always free. So just sign this waiver here, then you can head right in.” She handed Chloe the clipboard with the liability waiver on it. Chloe did a quick scan, but it was all boilerplate. So Chloe signed and handed it back.

“Is it very full?” she asked.

Lotus frowned in thought for a moment, then nodded. “Pretty typical for a Friday morning. About seventy-five percent I would say. But still lots of space to spread out.” She smiled, then her crystal-blue eyes lit up when she spotted more people walk in. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course.” Chloe headed into the studio which had the lights dimmed in the round and inviting space. Lemongrass essential oil floated up from a diffuser at the back and gentle, spa-like music played.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, then she scanned the space for an empty spot. Four women sat on their mats near the front, animatedly chatting, but they were so beautiful and seemed to be a tight-knit group. So Chloe didn’t want to interfere. She moved over to the other side, unrolling her mat next to an older woman with blonde-gray hair who gave her a friendly smile.

“Hello,” the woman said. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

Chloe spread out her yoga towel on top of her mat. “I’m new.”

The woman held out her hand. “Welcome. I’m Shelley Diamond.”

Chloe took her hand. “Chloe Voss. Nice to meet you.”

Shelley squinted at Chloe for a moment, then her eyes went wide. “Oh! You’re the new bartender over at Sound Bites.”

Wow. News really did travel fast in a small town.

Chloe nodded. “I am. At least, I hope I am. Last night was my first shift and I think the jury is still out on me, at least for Dom.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you are doing a fine job. Sunflower Patrick said she’d never had a better old-fashioned in her life. And that woman is picky.” Her nose wrinkled a little when she smiled. “And Jolene Dandy said you made a mean blueberry tea. And everyone is talking about your take on a Bloody Mary. Who’d have thought adding clam juice to it would make it so much better?”

“The Canadians, apparently.” Chloe shrugged.

Shelley’s light-brown eyes went wide. “Is that so? Well, our neighbors to the north definitely have some tricks up their sleeves.”

Lotus walked into the studio and conversation almost instantly came to a close, all on its own. “Let’s pause all conversations. We can resume them after our practice. But the next sixty minutes is just for you. To center yourself. To find that piece that has been missing.”

A cool, soft hand slid into Chloe’s as she rested in savasana on the mat. She opened her eyes and turned her head toward Shelley.

“Have a nice class,” Shelley said with a friendly smile before releasing Chloe’s hand.

“Y-you too.”

Shelley smiled again, then faced the ceiling and closed her eyes.

Chloe did the same.

Well, so far, the news about her in town was good. She made the best old-fashioned Sunflower Patrick had ever had, a mean blueberry tea, and a decent Caesar. And that was all since just last night. Who knew what rumors would be circulating by the time she got to work that afternoon?

Was it worth living and working on the beach if everyone knew her business?

Maybe she needed to rethink this small-town life all together.

She arrived at the pub fifteen minutes before her four o’clock shift.

Maybe people viewed things differently these days, but she was raised by parents who said if you weren’t fifteen minutes early for work, you were late.

And that mentality stuck with her.

At three forty-five, she parked her car at the back of the parking lot like she had last night, double-checked her lip gloss and that there was nothing in her teeth, took a fortifying deep breath, and opened her door.

She could do this.

The parking lot was full of cars.

Which was a good sign business-wise, but it meant that things would already be bumping. There would be no grace period for her to get oriented, or the lay of the land.

Also, what did this mean for Dom’s mood?

She went in through the receiving door like she’d been instructed, and said hello to the kitchen staff she recognized from last night, along with introducing herself to some new faces. Burke was back, as was Wyatt. They both beamed when she walked past them.

“That Caesar was delicious,” Burke said, pulling fries out of the deep fryer. “I had a dream about it.”

That made her laugh. “Well, I’m happy to make you another one tonight.”

“Promise?”

She shot him a wink. “On the house and everything.”

His chuckle was deep and booming as she pushed open the swinging door to the front of house, the whir of the ticket machine greeting her as well as the boisterous laughter of several tables. The patio was packed and most the tables inside were occupied too.

“About time you showed up,” Dom said, looking frazzled as ever as he pressed the button for the bellini machine.

“I’m fifteen minutes early,” she said, stowing her purse, jacket, and phone under the bar and tying the apron back around her waist. She was in the same black jeans as yesterday, but a cute black tank top that had a lace back.

All he did was huff in response as the orders just kept coming in.

“I’m here to pick up a take-out order,” said a young man, maybe early twenties. “Under ‘Douglas.’”

“It’s right here,” Burke said from the food window.

Chloe exhaled, then grabbed the paper bag, double-checked the order and what was in it, and rang up the customer.

“Place is packed tonight,” he said, tapping his credit card. “You’re new here?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Second shift.”

“They’re not easing you in at all.”

All she could think about was the need to get to those other orders. “Throw ‘em in the deep end to see if they can swim, I guess.”

He flashed her a big smile. “Well, good luck.”

Thankfully, he either got the hint, or was just done with the small talk because he took his order and left. Chloe quickly washed her hands, then started on the ticket pile.

Renée joined she and Dom five minutes later. “Holy shit, the place is hopping,” she said, washing her hands and grabbing the next ticket. “Has it been like this all day?”

“Since noon,” Dom said. “Haven’t even had a chance to take a piss.”

Renée’s eyes bugged out. “Maybe you should go do that then?”

Dom glared at her, then at Chloe. Why the hell was he glaring at Chloe? She didn’t tell him to go pee.

“Hey,” Penny came up to the bar wearing a big smile. “Dream team is on tonight.” She gathered the drinks Chloe had just made and put them on her tray.

“We sure are,” Renée said. “Gonna make all them tips.”

Dom shot her another dirty look, but she just rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Dom. Go pee.”

“How do you get away with talking to him like that? Is he like your uncle or something?” Chloe asked, grabbing the next ticket, which was for a Sazerac. She reached for the brandy from the shelf behind her.

Chloe snorted. “Dom? No. I’ve just worked here forever and can give him the gears. He’s a grump with a heart of gold. Like a charred marshmallow or … a snail. A tough outer shell, but then pure goo on the inside.”

“A snail?” Chloe asked, amused as she put the brandy back and went on the hunt for the demerara syrup.

Shrugging, Chloe scooped ice into a lowball glass, then she measured vodka into a shot glass and dumped it in. “I mean, they are hard on the outside and gooey on the inside. It fits.”

“I’m sure he’d love to know you called him a snail.”

“You know, ladies pay big money to put snail goo on their faces.” Renée filled the glass up with cranberry juice, then put it up on the bar only to make a face. “I’m not saying we need to put Dom’s goo on our faces. God. How did I get there?”

“You know I can hear all of this, right?” Dom said from the other end of the bar. “This place is not that big. And you are definitely not quiet.”

Chloe’s cheeks burned hot, but Renée just burst out laughing. “Go pee!”

He growled. But he did hustle past them toward the bathrooms.

“Can I ask how old you are?” Chloe finished the Sazerac with a lemon twist, then put it up on the bar.

“I’m twenty-four. I’ve been working here for three years.” She smiled at the customers who just entered, two men probably not much older than her, and very handsome. “Hey guys. What can I getcha?” She was laying the charm on thick.

“There two seats at the bar?” asked the one in ballcap.

“Just right down there.” Renée pointed.

They moved a few feet down.

“We’ll start with a pitcher of the Witbier,” the clean-shaven, hatless one said.

“Coming right up.” But she didn’t grab the pitcher. “After I see some ID.”

The guys didn’t hesitate to dig out their wallets and prove they were old enough to drink. Then Renée got to work filling up their pitcher.

Dom returned, still looking like he’d bit into a lemon, but slightly less so.

“Feel better?” Renée asked him.

He grunted.

“Good,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No go home and be with that adorable little boy of yours. We’ve got it covered here. The whole island is already talking about how amazing a bartender Chloe is. And I’m just awesome in general. So you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile was cheeky as she plunked her hands on her hips and stared down—but up—at Dom.

Dom actually glared down at her since he had at least a foot on the tiny, feisty Renée. “You’re pushing it.”

“What? Your buttons? I know. I’m the only one here with enough balls do to it. So I have to do it enough for all of us. Now go. Tuck your kid into bed for once, for fuck’s sake.”

Dom’s gaze flicked to Chloe who stood behind Renée mixing a Rob Roy. Color infused his cheeks and a muscle ticked at the corner of his jaw.

“We’ve got this,” Chloe said softly. “You should go be with your son.”

He clenched and unclenched his teeth, which made both sides of his chiseled jaw bounce beneath his scruff.

Finally, after what felt like an hour-long Mexican standoff, but was probably no more than thirty seconds, he exhaled and gave one small, curt nod. “I’ll just—”

“No,” Renée said. “You won’t ‘just.’ We’ve got this, Dom. Seriously.”

Once again, he met Chloe’s eyes.

She put the Rob Roy up on the counter, grabbed the next ticket, and kept moving while keeping him in her peripheral gaze.

“Okay.” He nodded again.

“Good,” Renée said. “Now, the party can really start. Who’s up for some table dancing?”

Dom stopped right behind Chloe. “No fucking way!”

“I’m kidding. Go home.” Renée chuckled. “Wyatt is still in the back. We’ll wait until he leaves.”

Dom gave her a warning look, which she met with a cheeky one of her own.

Then Chloe found him beside her. “How do you feel about it just being you and Renée here for the rest of the night?”

Chloe was making a rum and coke, but she glanced at him as muscle memory took over. “We’ve got this. It sounds like everyone really thinks you need to go spend some time with your kid. So go do that. We won’t hurt your business. I promise.”

It was those last two words that struck a match in his eyes, lighting the blue-hazel up like two flames. His gaze bore into her and his nostrils flared. Heat filled her belly, waking up and warming those butterflies. “Jagger gave you the code for the safe and alarm system?”

She nodded. “Yes. He did. He also said I could call him and he’d come down if I needed help closing up.”

“Okay …”

“I understand your hesitation, but you need to trust that you’ve hired good staff. And I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the rest. They’re good at their jobs. They like working here, and that says something. They’re not going to let your business fail. And they wouldn’t let me let it fail. I saw that the moment I started yesterday. They respect you.”

“Renée doesn’t,” he scoffed.

That made her smile. “You know she does.”

He slid Renée some side-eye. She was busy flirting with the two guys at the bar.

“Go,” Chloe said. “We’ll be okay.”

He hung out beside her for another minute, then finally swallowed, nodded, grunted and left.

“Time to party!” Renée cheered as soon as the door swung closed behind Dom.

Only for it to swing open a second later to reveal Dom again. “I heard that.”

“And I knew you would,” she teased. “Go home!” He glared at her. She glared back, then pointed the beverage gun at him. “Don’t make me douse you in gin.”

“That’d come out of your paycheck.”

“Dom, seriously. Go home.”

His head bobbed, and he disappeared once more.

“Finally!” Renée said, really loud again. “Who wants me to take off my top?”

Everyone in earshot paused and waited for Dom to re-enter, but he didn’t.

“We do,” the two guys at the bar said at the same time.

“Sure thing.” Then she reached for the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head to reveal a black tank top with a racer back and the Sound Bites logo on it.

That got everyone laughing.

Chloe and Renée worked together like a well-oiled machine. The place continued to be busy all through the dinner hour. There was no lull after seven, in fact, it wasn’t until eight-thirty that Chloe even felt hungry, let alone the need to pee.

“You go first,” Renée said, hitting the button for the frozen drink machine. “I’m good for a little bit on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Get Burke to make you something yummy.”

“Thank you,” Chloe said, her bladder suddenly about to burst. She took off to the bathroom first, then when that crisis was averted, headed to the kitchen.

“What can I make you tonight?” Burke asked, scooping what looked like chowder out of a warming bin and ladling it into a bowl.

“I’m feeling like something Mediterranean,” she said. “Not necessarily Greek or Italian. Moroccan is always good too. But something from that area.”

He pursed his full lips for a moment then nodded with enthusiasm. “I think I can work with that. Give me fifteen?”

She beamed at him, her stomach already grumbling. “Absolutely.”

It didn’t feel like fifteen minutes before Burke was handing her a bowl of what he called Moroccan Chickpea Stew over couscous. It smelled incredible and had bits of dried apricot, sultanas, and dates mixed in with the stewed tomatoes and chickpeas.

“And you just pulled this out of your brain again?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I improvised with what we had. Then I added different spices, the chopped dried fruit, and the chickpeas. What do you think?” He handed her a spoon.

Another stomach rumble had her taking probably too big of a spoonful, but she didn’t care. She shoveled that sucker into her mouth and moaned the moment the flavors skittered across her tongue. “So. Freaking. Good.”

She’d closed her eyes again and when she opened them, she found Burke once again, elated and smiling wide.

“Thank you,” she said. “This is perfect.”

“You’re welcome. I’m looking forward to my after-shift Caesar.”

She gave him another thank you and smile, then headed out to the bar where she found an empty seat at the end and dug into her dinner with vigor.

“What did Burke make you?” Renée asked. “That looks amazing.”

“Moroccan Chickpea Stew. And it is. You should ask him to make it for you too.”

“I might have to.” The door behind them swung open and Renée’s face lit up. “I was wondering if we might see you three.”

Chloe spun around only to see three of the four women from yoga earlier that day. The one missing was the redhead. They approached the bar, and that’s when Chloe realized she’d seen the blonde woman before.

She was freaking Brooke Barker, the super famous Hollywood actor.

“We wanted to come check out the new bartender that has the whole island in a tizzy,” Brooke said. “Where is she?” Her head swiveled around the bar searching for Chloe.

Renée tipped her head toward Chloe. “She’s right beside you. Ladies, meet Chloe Voss. Bartender Extraordinaire.”

Chloe’s face was officially on fire.

“You were at yoga today,” the olive-skinned one with the long- ish brown bob said in a very thick Italian accent.

“I … I was, yes.” Chloe nodded.

“I’m Vica,” she said, holding out her hand. “I am with Wyatt. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Chloe took her hand. It was cool to the touch, but her handshake was firm. “You too.”

“I’m Justine,” said the woman who looked an awful lot like Lucy Liu. “I’m with Bennett, and I’m a doctor here on the island as well.” She and Chloe shook hands.

“And I’m Brooke. I’m with Clint and I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Chloe said. “I love your movies.”

Brooke smiled and they shook hands. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you already.”

“Y-you have?”

They all nodded.

“News travels fast in a small town,” Justine said.

“Especially if Jolene Dandy is the one spreading it,” Brooke added with a sarcastic tone. “They don’t call her ‘The Island Mouth’ for nothing.”

“It’s all been good things though,” Vica reassured. “The guys were raving about your Caesar drink. The one with the clam juice. So we came down here to try it.”

“And to also see how it’s been working with Dom,” Brooke said, her green eyes full of sympathy. “He’s not been in the best of moods lately.”

Chloe set her spoon down. “I … I’d be happy to make you guys some drinks.” She made to get up from her seat, but Vica rested a hand on her arm.

“Finish your dinner. We are in no rush. We can wait.” She caught Renée’s attention. “Can you put in a triple order of the Garlic Beer Fries for us, please?”

Renée nodded. “Coming up.”

“Is that one of Burke’s concoctions?” Brooke asked, leaning over to take a peek and sniff of Chloe’s dinner.

“It is. He said it was a Moroccan Chickpea Stew. It’s delicious.”

“Burke is a mastermind in the kitchen. I mean, Wyatt is too, but Burke just … he takes more risks that pay off more than not,” Justine said. “I remember this one dish he made me a few weeks ago …” she closed her eyes for a moment, “it was West African inspired and had two perfectly poached eggs on top, and lots of veggies. It was … I was in heaven.”

Chloe finished her dinner and got up from her stool, taking her bowl to the dish pit, then washing her hands behind the bar. “So, three Caesars?”

The three women exchanged looks as if having a conversation among themselves.

Justine nodded, then met her gaze with her brown eyes. “Yes, please.”

Chloe couldn’t quite put her finger on why these three women rattled her as much as they did. Besides the fact that they were gorgeous and outshone the freaking sun. But they were also married to, or at least with, the bosses—the owners of the business. Which made them Chloe’s bosses by proxy. So she wanted to impress them. But she also wanted to make sure she showed them the respect they deserved.

“Are you Canadian?” Justine asked, leaning against the bar as they all watched Chloe work. “My dad is, and we’d always go up to Quebec to visit his family.”

Chloe shook her head. “No. I’m from North Dakota. But I traveled through Alberta and British Columbia on my honeymoon, and that was the first time we had Caesars. I refused to go back to Bloody Marys after that.”

“Oh, so you’re married?” Brooke’s blonde brows lifted on her smooth forehead.

“I was. We are divorced now.”

The women nodded.

“Don’t be afraid of spice,” Vica said. “We are spicy women.”

That made the other two chuckle.

Brooke gave Vica a look. “Speak for yourselves, you hot Italian woman and sexy Asian lady. I’m a bland, weak-ass white girl. I can’t handle much heat.”

“I’ll add the Tabasco after I shake it then,” Chloe said. “How are you with horseradish?”

Brooke nodded. “Love it.”

Chloe finished up their drinks, then garnished them with the pickled beans. All three women’s eyes went wide as she set the pint glasses rimmed with celery salt in front of them.

“I’m very excited,” Brooke said, the first to pick up her glass. “But also nervous. Clam juice?”

“I think it will be very delicious and salty,” Vica said, bringing it to her lips.

“I’m used to eating all kinds of weird fish stuff.” Justine took a sip and her eyes lit up. “This is really good.”

Vica and Brooke both took sips and nodded.

“So good,” Brooke confirmed. “Way better than a Bloody Mary. Way more flavorful.”

“Oh, I love it.” Vica bit into a bean. “So salty, and fishy, and tomatoey.”

Relief filled Chloe and she exhaled. “Oh, good.”

“You need to chill, lady,” Brooke said, setting her glass down. “We’re not here to report back to the guys. Just because we’re with them doesn’t mean we’re your bosses or anything like that.”

She said that, but they all knew that wasn’t the case.

“We come down here usually on Friday nights for a few drinks. Sometimes a few other women from the island join us. Did you see Jordana at yoga with us?” Justine asked. “She works at the grocery store. She’s great. Her great-grandmother is Sunflower Patrick over there with the Sewing Circle.”

“Oh yes, I made Sunflower an old-fashioned,” Chloe said.

“Yes, we’ve heard.” Vica took another sip. “Apparently, the best she’s ever had.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “At least it’s not the worst.”

“We’ll leave you to it though,” Brooke said. “But just know, we’re all rooting for you.” She winked at Chloe, then she and the other made their way through the bar to an empty booth in the corner, but not before turning several heads as they passed.

“Well, that wasn’t at all terrifying,” Chloe murmured as she grabbed the next ticket and reached for the whiskey off the back shelf for a Jack and ginger.

“They’re three of the nicest women you will ever meet,” Renée said. “No need to be terrified of them at all. They’re your allies for sure.” She reached under the bar and grabbed her phone. “I’m going to go on break, okay?”

Chloe nodded. “Sure thing.”

“Just holler if it gets crazy.” Then Renée disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.

Even though she was sure they weren’t actually staring at her, it felt like every time Chloe looked up, Brooke, Justine, and Vica were watching her. She kept her head down as much as she could, but even then, it was like their eyes were made of lasers and her forehead grew hot from their intense focus.

They ordered a second round of Caesars, which even though Renée was back, Chloe asked Penny to deliver. Chloe was just too busy, and also too intimidated to take them over herself.

The two guys who Renée had been flirting with were on their second pitcher and getting loud and rowdy. In fact, the entire volume of the pub had gone up several notches in the last hour and by the time ten o’clock rolled around, Chloe had a splitting headache.

“What time do we close on Fridays again?” she asked Renée.

“Eleven.”

Chloe swallowed. “Okay.”

“You alright?”

“Just a bit of a headache.”

Renée gave an understanding smile. “Have you had anything to drink since you started your shift?”

Chloe thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I haven’t.”

“That’s probably why. Not to mention it’s really fucking loud in here. But it’s probably the water thing. Go back into the kitchen and ask Burke for a cup of pickle juice. Then start drinking water out here.”

“Why pickle juice?”

“The electrolytes. Just do it. I got things covered out here. People are starting to ask for their bills. So things will die down quickly.”

Nodding, and barely able to see straight, Chloe made her way back to the kitchen. Burke took one look at her and concern filled his gaze. “You okay?”

“I was told to ask for pickle juice?”

“Ah, you haven’t had anything to drink today, have you?”

“Not since I started my shift. No.”

“That’s common for servers and stuff when they first start. They forget. But they also don’t want to drink anything because it’ll make them have to go pee.” He stepped away from the grill and opened the walk-in fridge, coming out a second later with a giant jar of pickles. He used a clean ladle to scoop some brine out for her, then filled a cup. “This will help. But you also need to drink. Nobody will begrudge you for using the washroom.”

“I know. I just … I want to make a good impression. I really want this job. And Dom doesn’t seem to like me.”

“Dom’s got a lot of shit that he needs to work though. You are not his intended target, even if you’re the one that’s getting hit. His brothers won’t let him fire you if you’re a good fit for the bar. Trust me.” He jerked his chin. “Bottom’s up.”

She stared down into the green-ish yellow liquid, took a deep breath, then tossed it back, making a face after she swallowed it from just how sour it was. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Go drink some water.”

“I will.” She headed back to the front of house where Renée was busy ringing up some customers since Penny, Quinton, and Jillian were busy.

“Drink that,” Renée said, pointing to a big beer mug of ice water with lemon wedges floating in it.

Chloe smiled at the young, thoughtful woman. “Thank you.”

Renée shot her a wink, then went back to flirting with the customers.

As Renée predicted, the pub cleared out pretty quickly. By a quarter to eleven, the place was empty, besides the three women in the corner booth.

Even the Sewing Circle made their departure by ten o’clock, taking with them their patches for the quilt they were making for Ellie’s baby. Sunflower Patrick made a point of stopping by to compliment Chloe’s old-fashioneds again, while Jolene Dandy asked Chloe if she was interested in being set up with anybody and what her ideal type of man was.

“Let the woman just get settled before you start trying to marry her off,” Renée said, shaking her head at Jolene. “She’s only been on the island a couple of days.”

“There are an uncanny amount of eligible bachelors on the island though,” Jolene argued. “I mean, for a long time, five of them lived right here. Now there are only two. But the men who own the distillery are all single as well. Not to mention that handsome Italian man who saved Dock at the Fun Fair in June. I believe he is single. And very wealthy. Officer Jacobs is single. I simply want to know what Chloe’s type is, so I don’t waste my time.”

“How about you let Chloe come to you with her type when she’s ready?” Renée said.

Jolene focused her attention on Chloe. “You will come to me, right?”

“Absolutely.” Chloe nodded. “I’m just not ready yet.”

That seemed to satisfy Jolene for now, but even Chloe knew it wouldn’t tide her over forever. She mouthed a “thank you” to Renée who gave her a wink back.

Besides the women in the corner booth, the last two to stagger out were the beer pitcher boys. And they were absolutely smashed.

“You need me to call you a cab?” Renée asked them as she slid their bill across the bar to them. “I can’t let you drive home.”

“You could drive us home,” said the clean-shaven guy.

“Nope,” Renée said. “Do you need me to call you a ride?”

Backward hat guy nodded and closed his eyes. “Yeah … please.”

Renée grabbed the landline phone and punched in a number off the wall. “Yeah, Ronnie, can you come pick up two guys named—”

“I’m Colin and this is …” started clean-shaven guy

“No, I’m Colin,” said his friend.

The first guy snickered. “Oh, right. I’m Colin and this is Murray.”

“Can you come pick up Colin and Murray? Yeah. At Sound Bites. Thanks, Ronnie.” Renée hung up. “He’ll be here in ten minutes. But you guys need to pay and then go wait outside.” Although her tone was friendly, it was also no-nonsense, and these two drunkards knew not to mess with her.

The clean-shaven guy, named Murray, paid, then they got up from their barstools and zigzagged their way to the door.

Colin turned around. “Last chance to come home with me, Renée. I’d rock your world, girl.”

“I know you would, but I have to get home to my three kids, Colin. Unless you want to come home with me and be their new daddy?”

Colin’s eyes went wide with terror.

He could not get out of there fast enough.

Chloe snort-laughed. “I don’t want to assume, but you don’t have three kids, right?”

Renée giggled and shook her head. “No. No kids. But it’s way too easy to fuck with them and scare them. I can’t resist.”

Justine, Brooke, and Vica all exited their booth and approached the bar. “Do they—”

Renée shook her head. “They don’t pay.”

Each woman slapped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. “We’re rooting for you,” Brooke said. “Dom would be an idiot to let you go.”

“It was really nice meeting you,” Justine added.

“Welcome to the island. It’s magical.” Vica flashed Chloe a big smile, then the three of them waved at Renée and were out the door.

It wasn’t until the door closed behind them and it was just Renée, Chloe, and the servers left, that Chloe finally pushed all the air out of her lungs and let her shoulders leave her ears.

Renée smirked. “They don’t pay. But they tip very well. All three of them are incredibly successful in their own right, but the most down-to-earth, lovely people. You obviously know who Brooke is, and Justine said she’s a doctor, but Vica’s an engineer working on solar and wind energy.”

Well, if that wasn’t incredibly intimidating.

Renée grabbed the three twenties and put them in the tip jaw below the bar. “Now, we can really party.” She stepped over to the tablet behind the bar. The music changed to hard rock and the volume increased. Everyone started bobbing their heads as they cleared tables, swept, and retracted umbrellas.

“Dom is okay with this?” Chloe asked, unloading the glass cleaner.

Renée scoffed. “What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him.” She jerked her chin at the beverage gun. “Did you have your after-shift drink last night when you closed with Dom?”

Chloe had to think about it for a moment, but then she realized that she didn’t. Not that she was a big drinker anyway. She could take or leave booze. She shook her head.

“Yeah, I figured. You were wound tighter than a top working alongside Captain Grumpypants. Make sure you have one tonight. Pour yourself something now if you’d like.” She practiced what she preached and fixed herself a gin and tonic while grooving to the music.

Shrugging, Chloe brought down a wine glass and poured herself a smaller glass of the house red, then she went out onto the floor to help the servers and busser finish turning down the dining room.

One-by-one the servers ducked into the back room to cash out, only to emerge shortly after and slap two piles of cash on the bar, one for Renée and one for Chloe.

Quinton ducked behind the bar and went to the tablet.

“Hey, don’t touch my music,” Renée scolded with a smile on her face as Nine Inch Nails “Closer” started to play.

Several of the staff members snorted, meanwhile inside the kitchen, someone yelled, “Fuck yeah!”

That noise from the kitchen reminded Chloe that she needed to get moving on Burke’s Caesar. She finished helping AJ retract the umbrellas and bring in the candles from the deck. Then, she shut off the propane heaters and headed back inside. Everyone was singing along at the top of their lungs, which made it impossible for Chloe not to join in.

Even though everyone in the front of house was at least ten years younger than her, it didn’t feel as weird as she thought it might. She liked this group. They were professional, but also knew how to relax. Which was something she had struggled with for the last three years. She ground her teeth at night, and often ended up with tension headaches and neck pain because of her inability to really relax.

Hopefully, moving to the island, to the beach, would change all of that.

“Drink your water,” Renée yelled at her over the music.

Right!

Nodding, Chloe grabbed the beer mug by the handle and took a big sip, giving Renée a thumbs up with her other hand.

She finished making Burke’s Caesar just as he came out of the kitchen. His eyes lit up when he saw it sitting on the bar waiting for him. “You spoil me, Ms. Voss,” he said, picking it up and taking a sip immediately.

“Just reciprocating the kindness, my friend. That Moroccan stew was to die for.”

He shot her a wink and took his drink over to the same table the kitchen staff sat at last night.

“I’m just barback tonight, so you’ll have to cash out,” Renée said, making a whiskey sour for Penny.

“Sure thing.” Chloe stacked the two tills on top of each other, grabbed her wine, and carefully carried everything to the back room.

The moment she sat down in the chair, the memory of the tight space and Dom’s big body and sexy masculine scent surrounding her, instantly came back. Her belly warmed, her clit pulsed, and her pulse raced.

It was a small room, but his presence had made it feel like an iron maiden. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe, without feeling utterly consumed by him.

Then he made it a thousand times worse by abruptly slamming the chair backward and pinning her against the chair and shelf, only to hover behind her like a big, sexy shadow as she finished cashing out.

This wasn’t her first rodeo as a bartender. She knew how to cash out, and the system they had in place at this bar was easier than some places she’d worked. So it took her no time at all to balance the night. She portioned out the tips for herself and Renée, then stashed everything—along with the other servers’ cash floats—into the safe.

She made sure to memorize the codes Jagger sent her, then delete the message.

Then, double-checking nobody was behind her, and assuming Dom was watching her on the camera, she closed it, carefully punched in 8-6-9-1-1-5, then hit the lock button. It engaged, and the light flashed. She tried the handle to make sure it worked, and it didn’t budge.

Phew.

Once she returned to the bar, she finished tidying and putting everything away for the night. The kitchen staff filtered in, grabbed their drinks, then left without needing to be told, as did the servers. All that remained by eleven thirty were Chloe and Renée.

“How do you feel after tonight?” Renée asked her, as she gathered up all the dirty bar cloths and threw them into a laundry hamper.

“I feel good,” Chloe said. “It was busy. But it was fun. Made the shift go by really fast.”

“Awesome. I’m assuming you know how to do laundry. But this is like the last thing of the night. We gather all the cloths, then take them to the back. The prep cook is first in in the morning and she puts the laundry on. So everything is clean, dry, and ready by the time we open at eleven.”

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Oh no. I’m cool doing it. I just wanted to let you know. I wasn’t sure if Dom did.” Then she pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open with her butt and disappeared with the basket.

No, Dom didn’t tell her about the laundry.

That made her wonder what else he didn’t tell her.

Was he setting her up to fail by deliberately omitting important information? Or was that just an honest slip?

As she waited for Renée to return, her gaze roamed the dining room in search of a camera. There had to be one hidden somewhere. But as hard as she looked, she couldn’t find one.

Renée returned, smiling. “I locked the back door. Are you ready?”

Chloe was about to nod, but then her gaze landed on the frozen drink machine which they hadn’t disassembled or cleaned. She snapped her fingers. “Shit. I forgot to take apart the bellini machine.”

Renée’s face fell. “Crap.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal.”

“You go. I’ll stick around and do it. I can’t give Dom any more fuel to hate me.”

Renée hesitated, but Chloe could tell she was exhausted and wanted to leave. “You’re sure?”

“Hundred percent. I have a key and a code for the alarm. I’ve got this.”

Renée turned off the music, which had switched to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”. Then she shrugged into her jacket and grabbed her purse from beneath the bar. “Okay. When will I see you again?”

“I think I’m back tomorrow night. From what I understand, I’m the new nighttime bartender. So Dom can be with his kid.”

“Have you met Silas?” Renée’s keys jangled in her hand.

“No. I haven’t even met Clint or Bennett yet.”

“They’re a great family. All of them. Silas is so sweet. On the shier side, especially compared to his cousins. But he’s adorable.”

A tightness filled Chloe’s chest, and she forced out a smile as she started taking apart the bellini machine. “Hopefully, I stick around long enough to meet them all.”

Renée headed for the door. “I’m sure you will. Have a great night.”

“You too.”

And then she was alone.

With her emotions, the sudden rush of grief, and the never-far-from-her-mind guilt, hoping that the island was a magical as everyone made it out to be, and being here would finally bring her the peace she so dearly longed for.