A Brevia Beginning Read online

  Lexi wondered if she’d ever be able to loosen her father’s hold. In the past she hadn’t realized how bad she wanted that. Now she did, and if this was her only chance to make it happen, she wasn’t going to blow it.

  She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’m going to give it my best shot.”

  * * *

  Scott Callahan heard the crash as he took another deep swallow from his glass of whiskey. He glanced toward the back of the bar as he jiggled the glass, determined to loosen every bit of liquor that clung to the melting ice.

  “Sounds like she broke another one,” he said to the waitress who brought him a third round. His instructions upon his first order were clear: as soon as his glass was empty, he was ready for another. No questions asked and there’d be a hefty tip at the end of the night. When Scott drank, he did it fast and he did it alone.

  In his case, misery did not love company.

  “New girl,” the waitress answered. “The absolute worst I’ve ever seen.” She put the fresh glass on the table and picked up his empty. “Julia vouched for her, but it’s like she’s never even held a tray. Luke is desperate for the help. Hell, he’s desperate for a lot of things. But I don’t know if we have enough glasses in the back to keep her around much longer.”

  Scott leaned back in his chair. “You said Julia vouched for her.” He nodded toward the red-faced pixie who came around the back of the bar. “That little mouse is friends with Julia—uh, Morgan?”

  “Julia Callahan now,” the waitress corrected. “She married the town’s police chief a few months back.”

  Scott nodded. “I’m happy for her. Do they make a good match?”

  “Perfect.” The woman’s voice turned wistful. “Sam Callahan was the biggest catch this side of the county line. I never really pegged him for a family man. But he dotes on Julia’s boy. It’s true love.”

  “Good for them,” Scott mumbled, not wanting to reveal his connection to Sam. He wrapped his fingers around the cool glass once more.

  “How do you know Julia?”

  He schooled his features into an emotionless mask. “Her hair salon.”

  “I haven’t seen you in here before. You new to town?”

  “Just passing through,” he said and took a sip. “Thanks for the fresh drink.”

  “Sure.” Realizing the conversation was over, the waitress walked away.

  Scott had been in enough bars in his time to know that a good waitress could sense when a customer wanted to chat and when to leave him alone. He was glad he’d sat in the section he had. The little mouse waitress, cute as she was, didn’t seem like someone who’d take a hint if you hung it around her neck. Not his type for certain.

  He didn’t know what he expected from Brevia, North Carolina. He looked around the bar’s interior, from the neon signs glowing on the walls to the slightly sticky sheen on the wood floor. The bar ran along the back of the far wall although few stools were occupied. Not the most popular place in town, so no wonder there was a for-sale sign in the window. Still, the lack of customers suited him just fine. The watering holes he usually frequented in D.C. may have been classier and more historic. But as far as Scott was concerned, liquor was liquor and it didn’t really matter who poured it or where.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered what had brought him to Brevia tonight. After the blowout he’d had with his brother, Sam, at their dad’s wedding a few weeks ago, he’d vowed never to step foot in this town again. If he admitted the truth, he had no place else to go. No friends, no one who cared whether he showed up or not. His dad and brother might be the exception to that, but they were both too mad at him for it to matter now.

  He drained his glass again. He liked the way alcohol eventually numbed him enough so the dark thoughts hovering in the corners of his mind disappeared. Maybe it had led to some stupid decisions, but it also took the edge off a little. And Scott had a lot of edges that needed attention.

  As a few more patrons wandered out, Scott’s waitress came over to the table. “It’s a slow night, honey,” she told him. “I’m heading home. I could give you a ride somewhere or you could stop by my place for a nightcap.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly, Scott almost missed the invitation in her voice. He glanced up. “What’s your name?”

  “Tina.”

  He flashed the barest hint of a smile. “Tina, trust me. You can do way better than me on any given night. Even in a town like Brevia.”

  “I’m willing to take my chances.” She surveyed him up and down. “I could wait years for a man who looks like you to walk into this place.”

  He took her hand in his and ran his finger across the center of her palm. “You deserve more than the likes of me. Go home, Tina.” He pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “And thank you for the offer. It’s a hard one to pass up.”

  She sighed. “Enjoy your night then.”

  He watched her walk away, then shifted his gaze as he felt someone watching him. The pixie of a waitress stood next to a table, her mouth literally hanging open as she gaped at him as if he was the big, bad wolf. A rush of heat curled up his spine. Maybe he should have taken Tina up on her offer. He was clearly in need of releasing some kind of pent-up energy.

  He straightened from the table where he sat and lifted his glass in mock salute, adding a slow wink for good measure.

  The mouse snapped her rosebud lips together and spun around, sending another glass flying from the tray she balanced precariously in one hand.

  Scott shook his head as the crash reverberated through the bar. That was her fifth for the night. A clumsy new waitress wouldn’t last long.

  He moved to a seat at the bar and ordered another round.

  To his surprise, the bartender shook his head. “You’ve had enough, buddy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I’m cutting you off.”

  Scott knew for a fact—almost a fact—that he never appeared drunk even when he was. It had been his downfall too many times to count. People assumed the idiot things he did weren’t in direct relation to the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. “What the hell? I’m not making a scene. It’s still early.”

  “It’s 1:00 a.m.”

  “That means I’ve got an hour left.”

  “Not in my bar you don’t. I own this place and I’m saying you’re done here.”

  “What’s the problem, man?”

  The bar’s owner was in his late forties, a tall, balding man with a lean face. Scott wasn’t acting out of the ordinary, so couldn’t figure out what was the problem.

  “The problem,” the bartender said as he leaned closer, “is that I saw you kissing my girlfriend’s hand a few minutes ago. Now get the hell out of my bar.”

  Scott thought about the lovely Tina and cringed. “I had no idea she was your girlfriend. She invited me over for a drink and—”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the bartender grabbed at the scruff of his collar. Without thinking, Scott slammed the man’s hand to the wooden counter, stopping just short of breaking it.

  The bartender yelped in pain, then yanked his hand away.

  “I told you,” Scott repeated quietly, “I didn’t know.”

  “Luke, is everything okay here?”

  Scott turned and saw the tiny waitress standing at his side. She was even smaller up close, her big eyes blinking at him from behind round glasses. As far as he could tell, she didn’t wear a speck of makeup, her pale skin clear without it other than a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her red hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail at the nape of her neck. She bounced on her toes, looking warily from Scott to Luke.

  “Everything’s fine, Lexi,” the bartender said coolly. “This customer has had enough. He’s leaving.”

  “So Lexi�
��s the bouncer?” Scott smiled at the mouse. “Are you going to throw me out?”

  “You don’t seem drunk,” Lexi observed.

  He knew the bartender was right even if he’d never own up to it. Scott wasn’t much of a gambler, but he’d perfected a poker face. Nothing good ever came from admitting he’d had too much to drink. Especially at a bar. “I’m not,” he answered, even though he knew it was a lie. “But I’d like to be.” He settled into his chair and gave her a broad smile.

  A streak of pink crept up from the neckline of her Riley’s Bar T-shirt, coloring her neck and cheeks. A muscle in Scott’s abdomen tightened. He imagined her entire petite frame covered in those sweet freckles and flushed pink with desire. For him.

  Whoa. Where had that come from? He blinked several times to clear his head.

  “Do you have something in your eye?” the mouse asked. “I have eyedrops in my purse if you need them.”

  So much for his charm with women. He was rusty these days. “No,” he answered.

  “He don’t need anything,” Luke interrupted. “He’s on his way out.”

  “No wonder your bar is so run-down.” Scott bit out a laugh. “If this is how you treat your customers...”

  He saw Luke’s eyes narrow a fraction. “My customers don’t bad-mouth my bar. This establishment happens to be a local favorite.”

  Scott made a show of looking around at the nearly empty stools and tables. “I can see how popular you are. Yes, indeed.” He glanced at the waitress, who gave a small shake of her head before dropping her gaze to the ground.

  Somehow the disappointment he read in her eyes ground its way under his skin, making his irritation at being kicked out swell to full-fledged anger. He didn’t know why it mattered, but suddenly Scott was determined not to let the bartender win this argument. Nobody in this one-horse town was going to get the best of him.

  “I’m not leaving until I get another drink.” He crossed his arms over his chest and dared the other man to deny him.

  “Maybe you should just give him one more,” Lexi suggested softly.

  “No way.” Luke reached for the phone hanging next to the liquor bottles. “This loser is finished, one way or another.” He pointed the receiver in Scott’s direction. “I’ll give the police a call. Tell them I’ve got a live one making a disturbance down here, and let them haul you away.”

  The last thing Scott needed was his brother finding him in a town bar tonight unannounced, let alone making trouble. Scott wanted to talk to Sam, but on his terms and in his own time frame.

  Sam had moved to North Carolina several years ago and was definitely protective of his new hometown. Scott told himself he’d stopped caring about his brother’s opinion years ago, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go toe-to-toe with him tonight. He knew it would be easier to cut his losses and walk out now, but he couldn’t do it. Not with Lexi and Luke staring at him. Backing down wasn’t Scott’s style, even when it was in his best interest.

  His gaze flicked to the front door, then back to the bartender. “I noticed a for-sale sign in the window,” he said casually.

  Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You in the market for a bar?”

  “Someone could do a lot with this space. Make it more than some two-bit townie hangout.”

  “Is that so?” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you make me an offer, city boy?”

  “Why don’t you get me a drink and maybe I will.”

  A slow smile curved the corner of the bar owner’s lips. He turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf.

  Lexi tugged on Scott’s sleeve. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to discuss a possible business transaction now. You might want to wait until the morning.”

  “I think this is the perfect time,” Scott said and leaned closer to her, picking up the faint scent of vanilla. How appropriate for a woman who looked so innocent. “And you’re right, it’s none of your business.”

  The bartender placed a drink in front of Scott and clinked his own glass against it.

  “Be that as it may,” Lexi said, tugging again, “in order for a deal to hold up, there is the matter of due consideration. That won’t apply if one or the other party is proved to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol.”

  Scott shrugged out of her grasp. “Honey, are you a waitress or a lawyer? Because you handle those big words a lot better than you do a tray of glasses.”

  “That’s right.” Luke’s eyes lit up. “Julia said you were an attorney when she got me to hire you. Said you worked your way through law school waiting tables.”

  “She did?” Lexi had worked her way through law school clerking at her father’s firm. She hadn’t waited on anything other than an airplane before tonight. Still, she nodded. “I did. I am. An attorney, that is. I’m currently taking a break.”

  Scott eyed her. “As a cocktail waitress?”

  Her lips thinned, which was a shame because he’d noticed they were full and bow-shaped. “For now.”

  Scott couldn’t resist leaning closer again. “You might be the walking definition of the term ‘don’t quit your day job.’”

  “You’re a jerk,” she whispered.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Luke clapped his hands together. “This is perfect.” He took a step back and flipped on and off the light switch next to the bar. “We’re closing early, y’all,” he shouted to the lone couple in a booth toward the back. “Clear out now.”

  Ignoring the groans of protest, he pointed to Lexi. “You can write up an offer for the pretty boy. Better yet, there’s an old typewriter on my desk in the back. Grab it and you can make the contract.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

  “I’m not asking you to think,” Luke barked. “You’ve broken a half-dozen glasses tonight. If you want to keep this job, get the damn typewriter.”

  She threw a pointed glance at Scott. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Looking into her bright eyes, the only thing he could think of was that he wanted to kiss her senseless. But he sure as hell had a longer list of things he didn’t want.

  He didn’t want the botched arrest at the U.S. Marshals Service that had taken his partner’s life and put Scott on forced administrative leave. He didn’t want the resignation letter burning a hole in his back pocket. He didn’t want to go back to his empty condo in D.C. and stare at the yellow walls for days on end. He didn’t want to feel so helpless and alone.

  “Don’t tell me you’re all talk?” Luke slapped a wet towel onto the bar as he spoke. “I should have guessed you’d be willing to spout out big words but not follow up with any action. If you aren’t serious, get the hell out of my bar. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time with this.”

  Scott spoke to the bar owner without taking his eyes from Lexi. “I’m all about action.” He picked up his glass and drained it again. “Lexi, would you please get Luke’s typewriter? We need to talk dollars for a few minutes. See how badly your good old boy really wants to sell.”

  Chapter Two

  Scott felt someone poking at him, but couldn’t force his eyes to open. “Go away,” he mumbled.

  A shower of ice-cold water hit his face. He sat up, sputtering and rubbing his hands across his eyes. Water dripped from his hair and chin.

  “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” he said with a hiss of angry air, then looked around. He was on a worn leather couch in a small office, the shelves surrounding him dusty and lined with kitchen equipment. “Where am I?”

  Sam handed him a towel. “You passed out. Luke Trujillo called me at three in the morning, laughing his butt off. He said he offered you a ride, but you insisted you wanted to spend the night in your bar. When did you get bac
k into town?”

  “Last night.”

  “You didn’t call. Does Dad know you’re here?”

  “Not yet.” Scott covered his eyes with the towel, under the guise of drying off his hair. “I didn’t call because our last family get-together didn’t exactly end on good terms.”

  Memories of the previous evening came back to him in full force. When he was certain he had his features schooled to a blank mask, he lowered the towel. “But I’m a big boy, Sam. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Are you kidding?” His brother paced back and forth across the worn rug between the couch and an oversize oak desk on the far wall. “You didn’t know where you were a minute ago.”

  “I was disoriented. It happens.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “It was a misunderstanding. The guy was being a jerk about serving me, so I gave him a song and dance about wanting to buy this place.”

  Sam grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and shoved it toward Scott. “This isn’t a song and dance. It’s a contract for purchase and sale. You gave him a down-payment check for fifty grand. Luke has wanted to sell for over a year now. To hear him tell it, the place is a money pit. He’s got family in Florida. Hell, he’s probably already packing his bags.”

  As Scott read the words on the paper, his head pounded even harder. The contract had his signature on the bottom, along with Luke Trujillo’s and one other. In neat, compact writing was the name Lexi Preston scrawled above the word Witness on the last line.

  The pixie waitress-attorney from last night. Clear green eyes and the shimmer of red hair stole across his mind. Wanting to impress her. Wanting to keep drinking. His two main objectives from late last night. Now, in the harsh light of morning, he realized how stupid and impulsive he’d been.

  Again.

  Most of the trouble—and there was a lot of it—Scott had in life was a result of being impulsive. He led with his emotions, anger being the top of that list. Normally, he wouldn’t let himself slow down enough to care about the consequences. But the botched arrest two months ago, a direct result of his poor judgment, had put him on the sidelines of his own life. It drove him crazy, although he wouldn’t have that discussion with Sam.