“Well,” she continued. “Let’s just say Bingham wouldn’t have been as magnanimous as Wyatt if it happened to Lula.”
Max’s face blanched as he realized she was right.
“I’m not above waitin’ tables,” Wyatt said with an expressionless face. “I’ll be happy to help wherever I’m needed.”
“You ever waited tables before?” Ruth asked.
“I have a bit of experience,” he challenged.
She shook her head in disgust.
Max’s jaw tightened. “I’m gonna get you and Carly more help. And you’re right about Lula. I doubt Bingham will let her help out much longer, although we all know the lunch crowd is tamer than the evening. But for now, Wyatt will help out wherever we need him. And after what happened to Carly, I’ve made another hire. Marco’s gonna be workin’ security in the evenings.”
“Security?” I asked in surprise.
I turned to Ruth, expecting her to protest, but she quirked a brow. “What? I think it’s a great idea.”
“You’re against it?” Marco asked.
“Bigger bars have them,” Max countered before I could answer. “Tiny and I have historically acted as security, which has worked out so far, but now there are too many men coming in. Too many that don’t know or follow the rules.”
“I’m not protesting,” I said. “It just seems like a lot for him. He’s working all day, then coming here every night?”
“Hey,” Wyatt said. “What about me?”
I frowned. What about him, indeed. How would he and Marco get along? I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it will be a lot for you too,” I said grudgingly.
“Gee, thanks,” he grumped.
“This starts tomorrow night,” Max said. “And like I mentioned, I’ll work on finding a replacement or two for Lula.”
“Then are we done?” Ruth asked. “I still need to count tips and get home for some much-needed sleep.”
“Yeah,” Max said with a frown and a wave of his hand. “In fact, you can leave your tips and I’ll count ’em up for you.”
She shook her head. “I’ll do it. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Max gave me a look that suggested I could leave, but I shook my head and pulled out my money and began to count.
We’d made a lot more than usual, enough that it took us fifteen minutes to count it. By the time we finished, the guys had stacked all the chairs upside down on the table. Wyatt had begun mopping the floor while Marco and Max conferred about security in the back. Tiny had already cleaned up the kitchen and left.
I headed to the office with Tiny’s share of the tip money and rapped on the frame of the partially closed door.
“Max, it’s me. I have Tiny’s tip money.”
Marco opened the door, leaning over in his chair to do it—the office was that small—and Max nodded to me from behind his desk. Marco held out his hand, and I gave him the stack of money and receipts.
Max’s gaze leveled with mine. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, feeling self-conscious. “But thank you for asking.”
“You want me to follow you home?” Marco asked, worry in his eyes.
“Goodness no. I’ll be fine.”
“If you change your mind…”
I gave him a warm smile. “I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”
Ruth was waiting for me by the back door, and she sent a glance toward the dining room as we headed out to the parking lot. “How do you feel about Wyatt workin’ here?”
“It worked out just fine tonight,” I said with a hint of attitude.
“Good thing he was here to save you.”
I put a hand on my hip. “For the record, I could have handled him. That guy was drunk off his ass. All I needed to do was sweep his feet out from under him. Wyatt just showed up before I had a chance.”
“Maybe so…” She gave me a speculative look as we entered the parking lot. “He still has feelings for you, Carly.”
“And that’s just too doggone bad,” I said. “Because that ship sailed right on out of the harbor and sunk on a sandbar.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t think you can sink a boat on a sandbar.”
I waved my hand. “You know what I mean.”
Pushing out a breath, she said, “And what about Marco workin’ here?”
“For the millionth time, we’re just friends.”
“Y’all looked like more than friends when you were touchin’ his face.”
I shrugged, both of us coming to a stop as we neared her car. “It’s like I told you. We got closer after he nursed me back to health.”
“You really expect me to buy that you came down with the flu at the exact time Lula came back? What really happened?”
She didn’t know the truth about Lula and the Drummonds, and it wasn’t my place to tell her. Nor did I intend to tell her that Bingham had helped me find Greta, Lula’s friend. He’d dispensed his own brand of justice on those men for the wrongs they’d done—and intended to do—to Lula, and I didn’t want to get on his bad side. “I had a really bad case of the flu, and Marco says I nearly died a few times. I don’t have insurance, so he took care of me at his place. I owe him, Ruth.”
Her eyes narrowed and she studied me closely for several long seconds. “I believe he nursed you back to health and even the nearly dyin’ part, but not for one minute do I believe it was the flu. Something happened to you when you were looking for Lula—like maybe you got shot—and Marco took care of you.”
I shrugged. Her presumption was close, but I didn’t care to confirm or deny it. “Go home to Franklin, Ruth.”
She winked. “I’m hornier than a mountain goat in heat, and if I don’t get me some, I’ll wither up and die.”
I winced. “I could do without the visual, but go on. What are you doin’ standing here talking to me? Go see your man.”
She laughed and hopped into her car as the back door opened. Wyatt walked out, scanning the parking lot, and his gaze
