Fire and Ice: Rekindled (The Fire and Ice Series Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Hailey

I'd asked Joe last night if he would mind covering my shift
for a few hours today so Georgia and I could have a girl's day out. As Georgia
predicted, he was more than happy to oblige. Having a 'mani/pedi day' wasn't
something I'd normally waste my hard earned money on, but Georgia was offering
to foot the bill, so I decided to relent and just enjoy the moment. I still
felt bad, considering my toes rarely see the light of day, and my nails would
probably be chipped by the end of the night. But complaining just seemed rude,
and Georgia seemed to be enjoying herself, so I placated her and went with the
flow.

An hour after we'd entered the small, quaint nail salon, we
walked out with freshly polished nails, and I had to admit, the foot massage
felt like heaven, leaving me feeling revived and ready to take on the day,
despite what had occurred last evening.

Luckily, the bar was nearly full last night, which kept me
busy, and with little time to focus on anything other than keeping my
customer's drinks flowing. Although I may have snuck in a peek or two to check
out the band as they played for the eager crowd, I garnished no other looks
from Leila, and Kellan and I continued to skirt around each other, rarely coming
into contact with one another, save for a few passing glances. The tension
between us has been palpable, but I have no intentions of having anything more
than a cordial, professional relationship with Kellan- now or ever.

As Georgia and I arrived at the hip little coffee shop and
cafe, I was dreading playing twenty questions with her over my knowledge of
Leila. She hadn't mentioned it once during our visit to the nail salon, but I
could sense she was chomping at the bit.

We seated ourselves at a small table in the corner of the
cafe and waited for a server to approach us. Georgia was babbling about a new
wine Eve had selected for them to try, and I yawned out of boredom as she
continued to explain the multiple aromas and flavors of Eve's selection. None
of it made any sense to me, and I drowned her out as I perused the menu, which
had twice as many coffee choices as food selections.

A young girl who looked to be around eighteen arrived at our
table as she fumbled with her order pad and continued to dig into her apron,
looking for her pen I think. She must have been new to the job, as her hands
were shaking and she looked over her shoulder as if she was hoping nobody was
watching her. Noticing her nametag, I spoke up, saying, "Carly?" She
stilled her movements and looked to me, mortified, yet she said nothing. I
pointed in her direction and continued, "It's behind your ear," as I
sympathized with her, remembering how flustered I'd felt when I'd first started
my job at the bar.

The young lady pulled the pen from behind her ear, pushed
her glasses up her nose, and smiled half-heartedly, saying, "Duh! I'd lose
my head if it weren't attached." Even though she must have been
embarrassed, her feeble attempt at humor told me she was a determined employee.
Good for her. Georgia was, of course, oblivious to the situation happening
before us. With her lips pursed, she slid her finger down the menu,
contemplating what to order.

The young waitress blew a wayward strand of hair from her
forehead that had fallen into her eyes, took in a breath of air, and said,
"Sorry...I'm new here. Still learning the ropes."

I gave her a sympathetic, knowing look, as Georgia piped up,
insensitive to the young waitress's plight. "I'll take a white chocolate
latte and a club sandwich...double bacon." She shoved the menu towards the
girl without bothering to glance her way. My eyebrows rose as she said,
"What? I have a high metabolism."

The young girl scribbled furiously on her order pad, then
looked to me expectantly. After quickly skimming over the menu, I said,
"I'll just take a grilled chicken salad, light Italian dressing on the
side, please."

"Pssh," Georgia let out, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, not all of us were graced with favor by the
metabolic gods," I shot back at her.

"It's not like you're
fat
!" Georgia exclaimed. "I'd kill to have your
curves." I ignored her as I gave the waitress a polite smile to ease her
obvious discomfort over Georgia's lack of a filter. "Why don't you at
least get some bacon on top," she suggested.

"What is it with you and bacon?" I snapped.

"Whatever," Georgia harrumphed. "Might as
well eat tree bark," she added under her breath. I shot her a look of
warning and she put up her hands in surrender as she shrugged her shoulders,
continuing, "Ok, ok...just saying."

The waitress volleyed her eyes between us before squeaking
out, "Would you like something to drink?"

"Water with lemon," I said flatly.

The young girl winced as Georgia snapped her head up,
yelling, "Oh come
on
!
This place has the best coffee in a
thirty-mile radius. If I knew you were gonna have water and rabbit food, I
would have planned a picnic in your back yard for Christ's sake!"

Sighing in frustration, I rubbed my forehead and waved my
hand in the air as I acquiesced, "Fine, give me a cappuccino or
whatever."

Fumbling to hold onto our menus and write at the same time,
the waitress quickly jotted down my beverage order and scurried away.

"Jesus, you're a pill today," Georgia accused.

"
Me
?" I
returned. "You're the one who dragged me out here today so you could pump
me for information." Her eyes widened as she realized I had her pegged.
"I'm not stupid you know," I said in annoyance.

"Nothing gets past you," Georgia said, a broad
smile creeping onto her lips. I flipped her off as she snickered.
"So...what's the scoop?" she asked unabashedly. I shook my head as a
small giggle escaped me.

She was staring at me intently, and I knew her patience was
waning. Georgia being out of the loop was the equivalent of a tweaking crack
addict. I could probably squeeze dinner out of her if I withheld the
information long enough.

******

Kellan

I was in a less than stellar mood when I'd finally gotten
the bar closed up last night. Watching Leila perform "Ex's &
Oh's" by Elle King left a bad taste in my mouth, and with the
surreptitious looks she was throwing my way, last call couldn't have come soon
enough. Though Hailey had tried to shrug off the tension, I could tell Leila's
scathing looks in her direction hadn't gone unnoticed. Working with, near, or
around these two women will be like walking a tightrope, and maybe just as
dangerous. Luckily, the band cleared out shortly after their last set, leaving
me feeling grateful I hadn't had to deal with Leila any more than absolutely
necessary.

Putting my pride aside this morning, I remind myself I have
a business to run and bills to pay as I try to peel my eyelids open, instantly
blinded by the piercing sunlight filtering in through the blinds I had
absentmindedly left open yesterday. Even though I've most likely only gotten a
few decent hours of sleep, I'm guessing by the penetrating glare that it's
sometime mid-morning. Feeling around on the nightstand, I locate my phone, prop
myself up on one elbow, and squint to note the time. It's going on 9:00 and I slump
back against my pillow and throw my arm over my eyes, knowing I'm too awake to
fall back asleep, yet too exhausted to spring from my bed just yet. So I
don't...I just lie there, allowing my brain to turn the events of the last few
days over and over again in my head until I feel a headache coming on.

Breaking myself from my ruminations, I toss the blankets
from my body as if I'm physically dispelling the thoughts from my personal
space, and rise quickly out of bed. I stretch my arms above my head and yawn as
I shuffle towards the bathroom, the realization dawning on me that I'm not as
young as I used to be.

As I step into the hot flow of the shower, my mind drifts
and I introspectively wonder who came up with the saying '
I'm not as young as I used to be
'. Well no shit, Sherlock. Nobody
is ever as young as they used to be. And the chronic aching in my back and
knees from years of manual labor are the proof that's written on my face, or in
the pudding...whatever...I'm getting old, plain and simple. Thirty is the new
fifty; might as well order my bifocals and cane before senility sets in. Fuck- if
I could only go back ten years, five years...there's so much I would do
differently.

Leaning my forearm and head against the cool tiles of the
shower, I allow my mind to drift back to the many intimate moments Hailey and I
had shared, and conclude there isn't a single one I would trade, even if it
meant righting the wrongs of the last few years. Call me selfish, but I'm
treading quicksand here, and the precious few memories I have are the only
things keeping me from going under.

My mind begins to wander and I let my eyes fall shut and
grip my hardening cock, my hand stroking it seemingly of it's own accord as I
envision the sight of Hailey standing naked before me. Thoughts of her
beautiful body invade me...her creamy skin and silky hair...the dip of her
waist...the curve of her hips, and that ass...Jesus she has a great ass. The
all-too-short-lived fantasy of her kneeling before me, taking my rock hard dick
into her mouth, the tip hitting the back of her throat as her lips hollow and
sink to the base, has me grunting out my release faster than I'd like to admit.
Regardless of my reputation, I haven't been laid in...well, to be honest, I
can't even remember the last time I'd gotten laid. See...senility already
setting in. Jesus, getting old sucks.

Chapter Nineteen

Kellan

I had arrived at the bar about twenty minutes past ten this
morning. I wanted to look over the sales reports from last night and plug some
numbers into the tracking software that I'd had Jim install before I took over
the bar. I've spent the last hour comparing the numbers from this week to Jim's
sales for the prior month. We had added a few premium drinks to our menu, and
coupled with the attendance for the band's debut, we raked in a pretty
respectable profit last night. If I could keep the momentum going, the bar and
I would be sitting pretty within the next year.

Pleased with the reports from last night, I printed them
out, placed them in a folder in the filing cabinet, and closed out the program.
Flicking my wrist to check the time, I saw it was nearing time to open. Joe had
peeked his head into my office a while back to let me know he was here. Solely
focused on my paperwork, I simply raised my hand without bothering to look up
from my laptop. Every once in a while I would faintly register the sounds of
boxes being opened and beer bottles clanking against one another as the drop in
coolers were filled, preparing the bar for the day ahead.

I take in a deep breath as I ready myself for yet another
day performing the intricate balancing act of working with Hailey, knowing she
probably despises me. And putting up with Leila's incessant flirting with me, her
lack of subtlety evident, keeps me constantly on the edge of losing my shit in
front of the other band members, the staff...hell, even the customers. Yeah,
yeah...I know- bad for business, but my sanity is waning here. I'm not sure how
many more times I can smile through clenched teeth at the mention of "
our
little angel, Andrew", without
throttling the bitch. For shits and giggles, let's assume the kid does, in
fact, exist...well then this is a situation that needs to be rectified ASAP.

Shaking off the thoughts, I make my way towards the bar and
notice that Joe is the only one behind it. I peer anxiously around the room
seeking Hailey out. A pang of nervousness bubbles up within me as I realize she
hasn't arrived yet and we're set to open in a few minutes. She's never
late...in fact she's usually several minutes early. I'm unable to hide the
concern in my voice as I ask Joe, "Where's Hailey? Did she call in sick or
anything?"

Joe halted his cleaning of the bar top and glanced up to me
timidly as he stammered, "Uh...she didn't say anything to you?"

My concern turned to full blown panic in milliseconds as I
barked out, "Tell me what, goddamnit?"

Had she finally had enough and quit without telling me? Did
I push her too far this time? Hell, I certainly wouldn't blame her, but there
was no denying I still felt something for her, and probably always would. I had
become like one of those bug collectors...draining the life from their
unsuspecting victims, pinning them down, and keeping them for themselves, to
admire whenever they feel like it. The bar was my own personal shadow box,
where I had access to her, could see her...watch her. Was I sacrificing her
needs for my own wants? I suppose. Was I being obsessive? Probably. But
nevertheless, the thought of letting her fly free was unsettling to say the
least.

Joe's eyes grew wide as he struggled to explain,
"She...last night...I thought you knew, Boss."

Stalking to within a fraction of an inch from him, I
exclaimed, "Knew about what?" Joe stared blankly at me as I
continued, "Am I speaking Chinese here? These are not difficult
questions."

His eyes darted back and forth, as he tried to look anywhere
but directly at me, and he began fidgeting with his bar rag. He stuttered,
"She wanted to know...well, I mean she asked me...well, no, see
first
," he looked towards the
ceiling as if searching his mind and tapped his finger on the bar as if he were
a counting horse. I was quickly losing my patience with him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Jesus Christ!
You been eating retard sandwiches, or what? Get to the fucking point!"

"Yeah, Boss, ok," he nodded, continuing, "She
said she needed the afternoon off and asked if I would cover for her." He
glanced at me with trepidation as I stared him down, urging him to continue.
"So, I mean, I just figured she already asked you, ya know?" he
shrugged.

My tone clipped, I asked, "What did she need the
afternoon off for?"

Joe shrugged apologetically. "She didn't really
say," he stated flatly, leaving me only more frustrated, my gut roiling
with barely retained urgency.

Joe certainly wasn't offering up any useful information. I
turned on my heel and briskly walked back into my office, closing the door with
more force than necessary and deposited myself in the worn out office chair as
it wheezed out a protesting squeak, reminding me a good refurbishing of the
dank, outdated furniture and decor was in order.

Running my hands through my hair, I propped my elbows on the
desk and slumped forward, scrubbing my palms over my face as I contemplated
calling her cell. What would I say?
Just
wondering when you'll be in so I can enjoy the smell of your hair as you walk
past me. Your lack of reciprocation of my continual obsessing over you has me
feeling insecure...would you mind dropping whatever you're doing to stroke my
ego? I was thinking of getting new ceiling fans...I could really use a woman's
opinion.

Jesus, I've never felt so desperate in my life, and what's
worse, I brought it upon myself and it's completely unwarranted. But that
doesn't make it feel any less unwelcome.

******