Waking Hearts (2 page)

“You’re good at this,” he said. “The customers and stuff. Anticipating what they want.”

“Thanks.”

“Good idea moving you to nights.”

She nodded. “And I appreciate it.”

Ollie frowned. “You don’t have to… It’s fine. How’s it working out with the kids? With you gone at nights more.”

“Kevin’s my right hand. Doing great watching the younger three. My dad usually comes by for dinner.” She shrugged. “He doesn’t love me working nights, but he knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You’re good at your job. I’m not doing you any favors.”

“We both know that’s not true,” she said under her breath.

He took a step closer. “Al—”

“Ollie!” Tracey called from the back of the bar. “Dani can come in, but she wants to talk to you. Family stuff, I think.”

Ollie muttered something under his breath but turned and walked to the back office without another word to Allie.

She let out a slow breath and watched him walk away, wishing the view wasn’t quite so tempting.

It wasn’t her fault really. After fifteen years with a man who equated kindness with weakness, Allie would probably be attracted to any man who was merely polite. And Ollie was more than polite. Despite his tough exterior, he was one of the kindest men she’d ever known.

And he was hot. Painfully, distractingly attractive in a way she hadn’t let herself acknowledge for many, many years. Admitting her attraction to Oliver Campbell would have made her crazy when she was still tied to Joe.

Allie didn’t want to get distracted by his big shoulders and gorgeous beard and overwhelming hotness, but come on! Three nights a week she waited tables for some of the roughest guys in the desert while the man behind the bar kept an eye on her. And Ollie took care of his girls. That feeling, combined with his looks, was enough to make any single mom go weak in the knees when she was used to being responsible for everything all the time.

But it was also ridiculous, because she was not the kind of woman Ollie was attracted to. Not even close. He kept things quiet, but she and her two best girlfriends, Jena and Ted, had gossiped plenty over the years. The women Ollie liked were all tall and dark and dramatically gorgeous. Nothing like her short “four kids later” body with flyaway blond waves and cheeks so round she felt like they’d never left elementary school.

Allie suspected Ollie knew about her ridiculous feelings, which probably explained the grumpiness. She did her best to hide it, but she must have done something to give it away. He knew her. They’d been friends since they were kids.

Awkward.

She had to get over it. An unrequited crush was not worth ruining a twenty-year friendship.

JIM leaned over the bar and shouted, “Do you want me to put Tracey on table five?”

She shook her head. Table five might have been irritating, but they were also tipping over twenty percent every round. If they were making a few suggestive comments, it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. “I’ve got it.”

“You give me the word and I’ll cut ’em off, honey.”

She gave him her most cheerful smile. “You’re the best, Jim.”

“Try to move them out before Ollie—”

She shook her head as the drummer broke into a loud solo. “What?”

“He’ll be back in five. They look like they’re moving along?”

She shook her head. “I told you I’m fine. They’re not causing trouble. Just a little annoying.”

“Right.”

The crowd was electric, especially for a weeknight, and Allie had to hand it to the alternative rock band from Orange County: they were good. Great rhythm and a lead singer who seemed to be as popular with the guys as with the girls. Young people had flooded in from all over the desert, and the bar was filled with a twentysomething crowd instead of the usual mix of all ages. Cocktails had been unexpectedly popular, and Ollie had been forced to run to his house to break into the Campbell bourbon and rye stash.

Table five looked like they were more interested in picking up girls than listening to the band. She guessed they were rich kids from LA slumming in the desert. They were dressed immaculately, even in the heat, with slick hair and carefully groomed facial hair they probably thought was “retro.” The four men seemed to be more amused by giving her a hard time than they were by the music.

“Hey, sweetheart,” the leader of the little group asked. “When can we expect those old-fashioneds?”

Allie eyed the tip of his glossy oxford as it tapped impatiently. She forced a smile as she set down a round of shots Jim had comped them because of the wait.

“Sorry, guys. The owner is on his way back with some more rye. Shouldn’t be much more than ten minutes. They’re the first order up.”

She pretended not to notice the brush of his arm on her hip.

“You live around here?” he asked. “What time do you get off work?”

She tried not to laugh. “I’m pretty busy, guys.”

“Your name’s Allie, right? I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you, Ryan. Enjoy the band!”

Allie got two steps away before she felt a tug on her apron string. She stopped when she felt the weight of it slide off her hips. It landed with a thunk, the small bills and change she’d collected landing at the smug man’s feet.

“Oops,” Ryan said with what someone had probably told him was a charming grin, still holding the dangling end of her apron. His buddies laughed. Her apron had landed on the floor, right between his spread legs, dollar bills and quarters rolling out.

Refusing to let them get to her, Allie forced a smile. “You guys are such gentlemen. Would you mind picking that up for me?”

“If I do,” Ryan said, “what do I get as a thank-you?”

Nothing, you little asswipe. You’re the one who pulled it off in the first place.

“Guys, I’m not trying to spoil your fun, but I really don’t have time for this. I’m working.”

Allie could see table seven’s drinks sitting on the bar, and Jim was glaring at her customers. She was now losing tips dealing with these
Mad Men
wannabes. If Ollie had been there, one of them would have already come out and given the men a warning. But with Ollie out, Jim was stuck behind the bar.

“Tell you what,” Allie said, leaning down to the arrogant man’s ear. “You can pick up my apron for me right now—” She heard the back door open and a moment later, Ollie walked down the back hall with a case of whiskey, Caleb Gilbert trailing behind.
Finally
. “You do that, and I’ll forget you’ve been a pain in my ass all night.” Allie looked up and glanced across the table at a younger man whose cheeks held a slight blush before she looked back at Ryan. “How’s that sound,
sweetheart
? Trust me. This is Oliver Campbell’s bar. You don’t want to mess with his servers.”

Ryan’s smile was tight. His eyes held hers. “Oh, I don’t think your thug boss wants to bother upstanding citizens like us.”

Another one of the men at the table was starting to look embarrassed. “Ry, let it go. She’s busy, and I want to listen to the band.” He moved to bend over and pick up Allie’s apron, but Ryan stepped on the hand that reached out.

“Ow! What the fuck, Ryan?”

He was still staring at Allie, a smile on his lips. “She can pick it up.”

Allie heard a thunk as the case of whiskey hit the bar. “I warned you,” she said, crossing her arms as she saw Ollie stride across the floor. There was a lull in the music, and the bar quieted as if just realizing something was going on in their midst.

Ollie jerked his chin at the band and said, “Play.”

Immediately the drummer picked up again, the guitarist stepped forward, and the singer raised his hands, drawing the attention of the crowd.

Ryan had scooted back in his chair, crossing his arms and reaching for his drink as Ollie approached the table.

Ollie snagged the shot glass from Ryan’s fingers and put it on the table. “You’re done.” He turned to Allie. “They paid up?”

“Yeah. They settled up and then this guy pulled my apron off.”

Ollie scowled. “What are you, twelve?”

Ryan’s eyes flashed. “Hey—”

“Pick her apron up and get out of here.”

Ryan stood, deliberately kicking her apron under the table and scattering more of the cash.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Allie said.

Ollie didn’t say another word. He grabbed the man by the back of the suit and lifted him in the air.

“What the fuck?” Ryan yelped. “Put me down! Andrew, call the cops. Your bar is mine, asshole. My lawyer is going to have a field day with this.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ollie muttered, looking at the other men at the table with an impassive expression. “Any of you guys have manners? Pick up her apron while I go have a talk with your friend.”

The whole bar watched as Ollie walked a puffing Ryan down the back hall, and the three men scrambled to pick up the money and stuff it back in Allie’s apron. The band, bless their hearts, continued to play.

The blushing one handed Allie her apron with a nervous smile while the other two got out their phones. Caleb wandered over from the bar.

“Allie, you okay?”

“Yep.” She smiled. “These gentlemen were just leaving me a very nice tip for making their neighbors wait on their drinks.” She looked over at table seven. “Sorry, guys!”

“No problem,” one shouted.

Another said, “Almost as entertaining as the band.”

One of Ryan’s silent friends was holding up his phone and glancing down the hall where Ollie and Ryan had disappeared. “Shouldn’t one of us call the cops? What’s that guy going to do to Ryan?”

Caleb hooked his hands in his pockets, his thumb behind the badge at his waist. “I am the cops. And Ollie was going to have a chat with him. Didn’t you hear?”

Allie didn’t have time for this.

She hustled to the bar and delivered table seven, then picked up empties on two before she took orders from the pool room. Stupid men and their stupid posturing. Her ex, Joe, was exactly the same kind of guy as that idiot, Ryan. Never knew when to just back down and let things go. Had to keep pushing until—

“Allie!”

Tracey yelled her name just as Dani came to grab her order pad.

“Go,” Dani said. “Tracey says you need to calm him down.”

“What?”

“Ollie lost his temper on that idiot. I’ll cover your tables. Go.”

What alternate dimension was this? Who decided that starting fights with a grizzly bear shifter was a good idea? Granted, the stupid human didn’t know that Ollie was a grizzly, but he was clearly outmatched.

Tracey grabbed her arm as she headed down the hall that led to the bathrooms, Ollie’s office, and the door to the employee parking lot. “Try to get him calmed down. We’ll take care of the front. Caleb can help.”

When Allie burst through the back door, she saw Ollie standing over Ryan, who was on his knees.

“Go for it,” Ollie said. “Stand up again. See what happens.”

His voice might have been quiet, but Allie could hear the thinly veiled rage. Ollie didn’t lose his temper often. Something Ryan said must have really set him off.

“Ollie!” Allie saw how far gone he really was when he glanced over his shoulder. Combined with the look of quiet rage was a split cheek that made Allie’s temper spike. “Did he hit you?”

“Sucker punch.” He turned and grabbed Ryan by the hair to pull him to his feet. “Apologize to her. Now.”

Tugging him to his feet brought the man’s face into the light. Ollie had been careful. There was only a shadow of a bruise by Ryan’s jaw and his lip was split, but Allie could see the pale skin and hunched shoulders that told her his ribs were more battered than his pretty face.

“Sorry,” the once-arrogant man said through bloody teeth. “I’m sorry. Didn’t… didn’t know about your kids or anything, okay? Just thought we were having fun.”

“Fun? You’ve got a messed-up sense of fun, mister.”

Ryan watched Ollie, who hadn’t said another word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was your girl, all right?”

“I’m not his girl,” Allie yelled. “And that doesn’t matter anyway.”

Ryan glanced nervously at Ollie again.

“What matters,” Allie continued, “is you don’t treat a woman like that. You don’t treat
anyone
like that. Learn some manners and don’t come back here. Ever.”

“Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

Ollie dropped him, and Ryan scrambled toward the front of the bar, kicking up dust in the cold light of the parking lot as Allie turned to Ollie.

She put a hand on his chest. “Let me see.”

“It’s nothing.”

She grabbed his chin to angle his head down, and he winced.

“Allie-girl—”

“Was he wearing a ring or something? How did he open up your cheek like this? You look like you might need stitches.”

“He was talking shit. I got distracted. I’ll go to Ted’s and have her patch me up.”

Her other hand rose to his shoulder, and her fingers stroked the beard over his jaw before she could think. His shoulders were rock hard with adrenaline. Sometimes Allie forgot how big he really was. She barely came to his chest.