“What in the hell happened?” Ruth asked, her gaze darting from Wyatt to Blake. “That customer came out sporting a black eye, and Wyatt’s icing his hand. The guy was mumbling something about suing for false accusations of rape, and you and Marco were nowhere to be seen.” She sounded pissed, but I could hear the razor’s edge of anxiety in her voice.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I think it was a huge misunderstanding.”
“So he wasn’t tryin’ to rape you?” Worry filled her eyes as she looked me up and down.
I gave her a tight smile. I could brush this off, but she deserved to know the truth, so I gave her the fifteen-second version of what had happened, including Wyatt punching him and Marco taking me out back to catch my breath.
“So you’re not sure whether he was plannin’ to rape you or not?”
“I’m not sure enough to press charges.”
“Like you would even if he’d completed the evil deed,” she said in disgust, but it was directed at the door Blake had just walked through. “Asshole.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant (about me—the asshole remark was pretty clear), but it could have been any number of things. That a waitress pressing charges against a customer could be bad for business. That men got away with things like this all the time. Or that we’d follow the unspoken creed of the townsfolk of Drum—they took care of their own, which Max always took one step further with the employees of the tavern. He called us family and he didn’t tolerate people hurting his family.
Oh, Lord. Would they seek their own vigilante justice?
“Ruth. For all I know he was reaching for his phone. You have to let this go.”
She simply lifted her brow, her mouth pinched into a tight line, a look my mother used to give me when I was in trouble and she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. The thought filled me with an unexpected melancholy.
Eye on the prize, Carly. Take down Bart Drummond, then move on to your father, the bastard who killed your mother and plans to kill you.
My concern about Max and Ruth grabbing pitchforks and running out the door was unwarranted since there wasn’t much either of them could do at the moment. Blake was gone, and we were all too busy working for anyone to go after him. His sorry hide would be safe enough until closing time.
Marco entered through the back, taking his seat at the bar, and I kept my head down, trying to get through the rest of the night.
Around eleven, Marco was still sitting at the bar, so I sidled up to him after I dropped off a drink order. “What are you still doin’ here? It’s past your bedtime.”
He gave me an incredulous look. “You really think I’m gonna just go home after the way we left things out back?”
Sighing, I sank into the edge of the counter. “Marco. It’s late, and you need your beauty sleep.” I gave him an ornery smile. “I can’t have you being so tired you get shot again.”
His face softened. “I don’t think it’s exhaustion you have to worry about. More likely I’d be distracted by the worry that I lost my best friend.”
I reached up to touch his cheek. “We had a disagreement. We’ve had plenty before, and somehow we’ve gotten over every single one.”
“This one is different,” he whispered, his gaze holding mine. “You think I was excusing what that fucker did.”
I pulled back, shaking my head. “No. I know you weren’t. I was just trying to make you think about how you were framing the question.” Leaning over, I kissed his forehead. “Go home. Get some sleep and rest easy that we’re fine. Okay?”
His mouth stretched into a grim look. “I can’t. Max called an employee meeting for after the bar closes in an hour.”
My brow wrinkled. “An employee meeting? Since when? I haven’t heard about this, and besides, you’re not even an employee.”
“Max called it after Wyatt came out with busted knuckles. And you’ll find out the rest after the bar closes.”
“Order up,” Wyatt called out, giving me a dark look.
Why was he still here, anyway?
The crowd started to thin, finally, but if I were the foreman at the construction site, I’d be concerned about all the men showing up to work with hangovers. It wasn’t my place to worry, though, and the tavern was making money hand over fist. Despite Max’s earlier concern about serving a worker a beer for lunch, he seemed totally on board with their nighttime shenanigans.
Max had to kick a few stragglers out, and after he locked up, he stood next to an empty table. “Everyone head on over, and we’ll get started.”
Tiny emerged from the kitchen in back. Wyatt circled the corner of the bar, but instead of leaving, he walked over to the table.
I was about to ask Max why Wyatt was coming to an employee meeting, but then I realized he was supposed to be there. Max must have hired him to help with the expanded crowd. The real question was what Marco was still doing here.
Wyatt took a seat at the table Max was standing in front of, but I sat at that table behind Wyatt. Marco sat across from me, with Ruth between us. Tiny took a seat at the table with Wyatt, while Max stayed standing.
“As y’all have noticed, we’re busier than a snow cone salesman in a heat wave, so there are going to be a few changes. First off, Wyatt has agreed to work nights and weekends to help behind the bar.”
Ruth crossed her arms over her chest. “Is he too good to wait tables with Carly and me? That’s where we need the real help. You know Bingham won’t let Lula help out much longer, and after what happened to Carly tonight…”
My face reddened at the reminder, but I was struck with the fact that she’d insisted we could handle it
