Protecting Rayne by Emily Bishop

Author:Emily Bishop [Bishop, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AG Media, LLC
Published: 2018-01-26T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Aurora

Customers chattered away at the tables, their noise sweeping down the aisles, erasing the negativity that had taken hold of me that morning. Knives and forks clattered against plates, a woman bust a gut laughing, and one kid let out a shrill squeal as his brother dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt.

The Moondance Bar and Grill was a home away from home for a lot of folks, and I was included in that, now. I’d come into work, slipped on my apron—it had a pouch at the front for my notepad and pen—and taken up a position behind the bar to slam back my first drink of the night not an hour ago.

Now, the melancholy that had followed me in had dissipated somewhat, chased off by the happy people here. It wasn’t the dinner rush yet, but there were enough tables to keep me busy.

I carried two plates out of the kitchen, around the bar, across the floor, my sneakers tap-tapping on the wooden boards, and placed the food for a couple. “There you are. One steak rare, and one medium.”

“Thank you,” the woman said and smiled at me.

The dude ignored me totally. Apparently, I was beneath his notice as a server. That wasn’t an attitude I encountered often in Moondance, but it did happen on occasion.

Better to go unnoticed than to be judged and measured. Weighed, found wanting.

I offered them both a smile. “Enjoy. If you need anything else, holler,” I said then wound my way among empty tables, back to the bar.

I leaned against it and watched the customers enjoying their meals, talking, or drinking.

The kitchen door opened behind me, bathing me in the smells of barbequed meat and frying oil, fresh, not that gross stale smell I’d experienced in diners across the state.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “You OK there, Aurora?” Jerr’s voice was thick with exhaustion. “Shit, I’ve been on my feet all damn day. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m all good,” I said and shifted, offered him a smile over my shoulder.

“You sure? I heard there was an incident down at that, uh, that clothing store today.”

“An incident,” I replied and swallowed. “I guess you’ve figured by now—everybody else has—that I’ve been hanging out with Jarryd Tombs.”

Jerr snorted. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Hanging out?”

“You and your smart mouth.” I whacked him on the hand, and he chuckled. “We’ve been spending time together, is what I mean. I know you said actors were trouble and—”

“I was right,” Jerr put in and dragged out a bar stool behind the counter. He offered it to me with a wink.

I plonked down. “Maybe.”

Jerr sat next to me and rearranged the front of his apron, which stretched across his belly, which was growing by the day, thanks to the great food in the restaurant. “I was definitely right. Now, I don’t know the guy personally, but it looks like a lot of trouble for little payout.”

“What do you mean, Jerr?”

“How do I put this?” The restaurant owner wriggled his nose.

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