Page 34 of Make or Break

Relief mingled with disappointment as I went behind the bar. No doubt it was better this way, but the ache I’d been nursing the past four days felt like a papercut doused in hand sanitizer. A burn like no other even if you knew you were better off because of the pain.

“You got half an hour. Eat fast. We’re gonna have to get champagne to these people starting at eleven forty-five,” Lark said to me.

I hurried back to the kitchen for my dinner. I had a side salad with grilled chicken, and as I unloaded a packet of dressing onto it, I couldn’t help but think of Tundra.

I scarfed it down in fifteen minutes, hit the staff only bathroom, and resumed my post.

“Forty-five minutes until the New Year, Miss Mickayla,” Duane said. He wore a black Jacksonville Jaguars sweatshirt that appeared to be almost threadbare with wear.

I smiled. “The ball drop is coming quick. Are you having bubbly when the time comes?”

He held up his bottle of Natural Light. “Only bubbles I need.”

A woman at the end of the bar signaled and I refilled her wine.

Duane spoke while I adjusted her tab. “Who are you gonna kiss at midnight?”

He’d been warming a stool every Monday since September. He would talk to me, but he hadn’t ever flirted like this before.

I aimed a closed-lip smile at him and nearly gasped.

Tundra was leaning against the bar two spots away from Duane.

“I won’t be kissing anyone at midnight, Mr. Duane.”

“That’s bad luck. I’d hate to see you start the new year on a bad note.”

My every instinct told me Duane wasn’t going to let this go. I twisted my hands up slightly and shrugged, then I hustled to the other side of the bar to check on those customers. One of them wanted a Crown and Coke, which forced me back to Duane’s (and Tundra’s) side of the bar. I feigned concentration on pouring a steady stream of whiskey into the glass, in hopes Duane would leave me be.

“You’re more than welcome to kiss me at midnight, Miss Mickayla,” Duane said.

I topped off the glass with a squirt of Coke. “I’ll keep it in mind, Duane.”

Lark stood at the register behind me.

As I passed him by, I muttered under my breath, “How many beers has Duane had?”

“Not that many. You fill the champagne glasses, and make yourself scarce right before midnight. Then you don’t have to worry about his drunk ass,” Lark said.

“Right,” I muttered.

I delivered the Crown and Coke, made change, and moved back to the other side of the bar.

Lark pulled a fresh pint of beer for Tundra before I could get to him. Or maybe Tundra wanted it that way. This felt like being near my favorite drug, but unable to have it because so many eyes were on us.

Twenty minutes later, I poured flutes of champagne. Killian and Ryan meandered through the patrons to distribute the glasses. I felt eyes on me, but I didn’t want to check to see if it was Duane or possibly Tundra.

I’d never been so acutely aware of the new year’s countdown. We had a band in tonight, but they’d scheduled their break so everyone could watch the ball drop on flat screens tuned to coverage from Time’s Square. A commercial ended and the crush of people in New York filled the screen. A few feet away from me, Lark gave me a discreet, but pointed look.

I nodded and hurried down the hall like I was headed to the supply closet.

“Seven, six…”

The door to the closet opened when I was a step away. I caught the tiniest glimpse of Tundra’s eyes before he reached out and yanked me into the closet.

“You’ll keep it in mind,” he parroted my earlier words.

“I didn’t know what else to say.”