Bartending was a nice balance.
Eventually, Colleen always thought, she’d meet the guy who would make her forget Lucas Damien Campbell. She tried. She really did. Sort of. Okay, she didn’t try much.
A couple times a year, she’d go out with someone, only to find that he was married or weird or just meh. And every once in a while, she’d fool around with some guy, let him kiss her, maybe allow a little groping. Even more rarely, she’d sleep with someone, hoping there, too, that maybe sex would be a great revelation, and the two of them would realize, Hell’s to the yes, we are in love, baby!
It didn’t happen. Her reputation was hugely inflated, but hey. If people wanted to think she was some sort of siren, let them. Better than them knowing she’d never recovered from her first love...like her mom.
“Do you want to go out with me sometime?” Bobby McIntosh asked her one night when Lucas had been back for two weeks. He sipped his O’Doul’s (proof that he stashed bodies in his cellar, Colleen always thought).
“I don’t, Bobby. Sorry, pal.”
“I really like you. You’re nice.”
“I’m not that nice.”
“But you have great boobs.”
“That’s true. Don’t wait for me in the parking lot, okay? I’ll have to knee you in the groin if you do.”
She pulled a Cooper’s Cave for Chris Eckbert, who always left a huge tip (as he should, perpetually guilty for that prom night so long ago when he hadn’t stuck up for her), then turned to Levi, who was sitting with Honor Holland’s fiancé, Tom, a sheaf of papers in front of them. Blueprints.
“Hallo, Colleen,” Tom said with a smile.
“Hallo, Tom,” she returned. Loved that accent. “How are the wedding plans?”
“I’ve no idea, really. Girly stuff, don’t you think? I’ll just be glad to be married.”
“I don’t know. Levi here obsessed over napkin colors for his wedding, didn’t you, bub?” Levi gave her a tolerant look, and she messed up his hair fondly. “What can I get you, boys?”
“I’ll have a beer,” Levi said.
“We have seventeen different microbrews,” she said. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Dazzle me.”
“Will do. Whiskey for you, mate?” She winked at Tom.
“I’ll have a beer as well, Colleen, and you’ve already dazzled me.”
“Oh!” she said, putting her hands over her heart. “Levi, why can’t you be more like Tom?”
“I’m more the strong, silent type. Also, I’m about to kill myself over these plans,” he said.
“Oh, are those the blueprints for the thing?” she asked, tilting her head so she could see better.
“The public safety building, Coll,” Levi said. “Your tax dollars at work.”
“I voted against that,” she murmured, then smiled at him. “I didn’t. Faith would’ve killed me. I’m a huge supporter of all of you goofballs, right, Gerard?”
“Anything you say, Colleen,” he said, smiling at her.
“I say you should go out with Lorelei, that’s what I say. She’s an amazing baker, she’s nice and she could reform you. And you know how much you need reforming, Gerard.”
“Yes, master,” he said.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She pulled Tom and Levi their beers (Empire Cream Ale for Tom, Blue Point Toasted Lager for Levi), and slid them down the bar, where they stopped two inches from Levi’s elbow. A life skill to be sure. “You treating my friend well, Chief?” she asked.
“Very well,” he answered.
“Would you say multiply well? If you know what I’m saying?”
“I think we all know what you’re saying, Colleen.” He gave her his famed crinkling forehead look. “And yes.”
“And you, Tom?” she asked. “Is Honor multiply happy? Hmm?”
“What do you think, darling?” he answered, his grin widening.
“I like your confidence. Just don’t get smug.”
“Colleen,” Connor yelled from the kitchen. “Stop harassing the customers.”
“Is anyone feeling harassed?” she asked the bar at large.
A chorus of denials went up from her peeps.
Slipping under the bar, she went into the kitchen, where Brother Dear was hard at work. “What bug is up your ass this time?” she asked.
“Did you know Mom was at the hospital the other night?” he said, flipping the vegetable tempura around in the basket.
“What? Oh, that. Singles Nude Modeling. Yeah, I was there.”
“Jesus, Coll. Nude modeling? Did Mom—”
“Listen. She needs a hobby.”
“She sent some guy to the E.R. with a heart attack.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
He gave her a long-suffering look, which she happily returned until Hannah came into the kitchen. “Cheeseburger, medium rare, blue cheese, bacon, mayo—”
“Speaking of heart attacks,” Colleen murmured.
“Sweet potato fries, Caesar salad with chicken, nachos grande, salmon cakes and the pasta special,” Hannah continued, then bustled back out. Connor’s memory was the stuff of legend.
“Out of my kitchen,” he said.
“You’ll miss me,” she answered, pushing through the doors. She slid back behind the bar, got Lorena Iskin another Manhattan without being asked, smiled at Cathy and Louise, who always only had one drink, refilled Jessica Dunn’s Chardonnay (on the house, Jess was nice) and turned to check on Tom and Levi.
Lucas was sitting two stools down from them.
Damn. She didn’t need this. He’d gotten her all...stirred up at the hospital the other day, being all holier-than-thou. So irritating, so judgmental. So...hot...gorgeous...delicious... Crikey. White oxford shirts were so underrated. His sleeves were rolled up a few times, and his olive skin made her want to take a bite. Those hands...oh, she remembered those hands, yessirree. Those were gifted hands, hard and strong and yet so gentle...and so smart, always knowing exactly where to—
He was looking at her. A corner of his mouth lifted, as if knowing just how tight her special places were becoming.
Time to bring him down a little. She flashed Tom a smile and leaned down in front of him, giving him a view of her magnificent boobage. “How’s that beer, Tommy?”
“Cover the goods, please,” he said, shielding his eyes. “Engaged to another, hate to break your heart.”
Shit, yes, what was she thinking? She jolted upright. “Sorry. So, how are things, you...um, you handsome Irishman?”
Tom flinched. “British, darling. Please.”
“Yeah, I knew that,” she muttered, glancing at Lucas. “And, Levi, you big strong, gun-toting lawman, you.” Ack.
“Don’t say that ever again,” he said mildly.
“Oh, shush. I’m trying to flirt.”
“Why?”
“Life skill.”
“Is it, though?” His forehead crinkled at her.
“Bite me, Levi. You guys need some food?”
“I need another architect is what I need,” Levi muttered, rustling the blueprints.
“Mind if I take a look?” Lucas asked.
Levi looked over. “Oh, hey,” he said. “You went to school with us for a while, didn’t you? I’m Levi Cooper. Chief of police here in Manningsport.”
Lucas shook his hand. “Lucas Campbell. Bryce Campbell’s cousin.”
“Right, right. Good to see you. This is my brother-in-law, Tom. Well, almost my brother-in-law. He’s marrying my wife’s sister in a few weeks.”
“Hallo, mate,” Tom said, shaking hands, as well. Lucas moved down to look at the blueprints.
Great. Three beautiful men, all in a row. Two spoken for, one...not.
“Are you an architect?” Levi asked.
Lucas shook his head. “A building projects manager out in Chicago.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind of buildings?”
“Skyscrapers, hospitals, that kind of thing.”
Annie, one of the new summer hires, came behind the bar with a menu for Lucas, her pad in her other hand. “Hi,” she breathed, and Colleen envisioned the girl’s ovaries exploding. “Can I get you anything?”
Lucas smiled. Annie staggered.
“Go clean the bathroom, Annie,” Colleen said sweetly. “I’ll take care of Lucas. He and I are old friends.” She folded her arms under her chest. “Lucas, can I get you something to drink? Would you like to see a menu? Or are you meeting someone?” Yes. Pretend he was just another customer, as unthreatening as Reverend Fisk, who was eighty-nine years old.
“I’m meeting Bryce,” he said. “But I’ll have a beer.”
“Absolutely. What kind, hon? We have Sixpoint Harbinger, Southern Tier IPA, Sly Fox O’Reilly’s Stout, Empire Cream Ale, Naked Dove Bock, Blue Point Toasted Lager, Cooper’s Cave IPA, Victory Donnybrook Irish Stout, Stone Vertical Epic, Captain Lawrence Brink Brown, Ithaca Flower Power IPA, Dogfish Head Immort Ale, Sly Fox Maibock, Bud, Bud Light, Miller, Miller Lite, Coors, Coors Light, Corona, Stella, and, in honor of our New York heritage, Genesee.”
Her regulars applauded, as they always did, when she recited the beer list in one breath.
“I’ll take the Dogfish,” he said.
“Coming up.”
She went over to the beer taps and filled the glass halfway, then filled the rest with 7Up.
“Enjoy,” she said, putting it in front of him.
He took a sip, choked a little, then swallowed. “You like it?” she asked. “Limited release.”
He raised an eyebrow. His phone beeped with a text, and he glanced at it and sighed. “Bryce ditch you?” she guessed.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” he said.
“Well, then. Don’t let me keep you. Nighty-night.” She gave him her best smile.
His eyes narrowed. “Actually, I may as well stay for dinner.”
“Join us, mate,” Tom said, the traitor. Just couldn’t trust those Brits; had the War of 1812 taught nothing?
Fine. That was fine. Colleen slapped a menu on the bar. “No need,” Lucas said, nodding at the chalkboard (which she’d written out that very afternoon, complete with an adorable stick figure lifting a pint). “I’ll take the burger special.”
It was pretty fantastic—an all-Angus beef burger with herbed goat cheese from the Mennonite farm up the Hill, native tomatoes and Vidalia onion on an English muffin and served with an arugula salad and Con’s famed sweet-potato fries. As her brother’s guinea pig with all house specials, Colleen had it for lunch. It was almost as good as sex.
“I’ll have that as well, please, Colleen,” Tom said.
“Make it three,” Levi added.
She smiled oh so pleasantly. “Coming up, boys.”
She went into the kitchen. “Three house burgers, Con. Medium on two—” Tom and Levi were regulars, and she well knew their preferences “—and petrify the third.”
“Really?” Connor asked.
“Yeah.”
She went out again. Time to schmooze. “Hey, lovebirds, happy anniversary!” she said to the Wheelers, who were celebrating their thirty-second. The Murrays were in with their beautiful, red-haired daughters, and Colleen asked the older one how trumpet was going, and the younger one about their new kitten. Bill and Laura Clemson were fighting, but that was nothing new; it was a Friday night tradition. Louis Hudson and Amy Bates, however, were cooing at each other in a dark booth, and Colleen told Hannah to bring them out a crème brûlée, two spoons, on the house. They were engaged, thanks to one Colleen Margaret Mary O’Rourke.
