Identity

“Oh, fuck that, too. Report me. You’re standing there calling me the next thing to a slut.”

“If it fits. I saw you with Liam just last night, and you’re sure doing whatever you can to snuggle up to Miles. Having him walk you out to your car after closing. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d try giving Nell a roll if you thought it would get you ahead.”

Morgan let out a laugh at that, couldn’t help it. “I’ll have to tuck that one into my back pocket if I can’t work out a three-way with Miles and Liam.”

Hot color spread over Opal’s face. “Shame on you.”

“No, shame on you and the gutter your mind lives in. I engage with the guests—and the Jamesons—as I read them. Male or female. It’s part of my job. I was not flirting with Liam last night. We were having a conversation, and one that mostly centered around Bailey.”

“After you sent her out there to wait on that bitch.”

“I did not send her out there. She wanted to go out there and she held her own. Just like she held her own at backbarring. Something Liam saw and appreciated, so if he didn’t notice her skills before, he will now.”

“Is he going to start walking you out after closing now? Maybe you figure to pit one brother against the other, playing defenseless woman. ‘Oh, something bad happened to me, protect me.’”

Genuinely shocked, Morgan took a step back. “Yes, something bad happened to me. A lot worse happened to my closest friend. She’d dead. He beat her half to death, then strangled her. She was twenty-six years old.”

A fresh flush worked up Opal’s cheeks. “I’m sorry about what happened to her, but—”

“There’s no but. There’s no goddamn but. If she hadn’t caught a spring cold and ruined his plans, I’d probably be dead. He wants me dead. He wants to kill me.”

“So you say, and—”

“So I say. So the FBI agents say. So would the woman he killed a few weeks ago say if she could, since he left the locket—my grandmother’s locket—he stole from me on her dead body.”

It just erupted out of her now, everything locked inside erupted, hot as hellfire.

“You think this is a game to me? Some sort of game where I use it to get the Jamesons to, what, feel sorry for me? I’m going to warn you once, and only once, whatever problems you have with me, you leave this out of it. You leave this the hell alone.”

“Everybody’s got hardships. It doesn’t mean you get hired out of the blue, get special treatment. And it doesn’t give you the right to make time with another woman’s husband.”

“I haven’t been making time with anyone. And if you’re talking about your version of flirting with Miles or Liam, they’re not married.”

“Nick is.”

“Oh, for— Even you have to know that’s just ridiculous. And now I’ll ask if you’re questioning the Jamesons’ judgment or their right to hire staff as they see fit?”

“No, but I’ve got a right to my opinion.”

“Which you’ve given. As you hold such a low opinion of me, I’ll again offer to switch you to days if you’d prefer.”

“No.”

“All right, then we’ll just have to keep rubbing each other the wrong way.”

She’d dealt with worse, Morgan thought. She was dealing with worse.

“I won’t change who I am or how I work to suit your set of standards. As your manager, I’m sorry we can’t resolve this in a more productive way, but as long as we both do our jobs well, we’ll just deal. As a woman, I’m going to tell you to mind your own damn business.

“Now, is there anything else?”

“I’ve got nothing more to say.”

“Okay then. Let’s get to work.”

She went up to a solid early evening crowd. Part of her relaxed in the familiar as she walked behind the bar. Before she took over from Nick, she drew a couple of drafts while he finished up.

“Talked to the boss last night. Came in, had a meet with Nell. Meet your new assistant manager.”

“Yes!” She slapped high fives. “That’s the good news I needed tonight. You need to go home and celebrate.”

“I called my mom after I signed up. She cried a little. In a mom way.”

“Aw.”

“Then she said how I’d be manager inside six months.”

“Hey!”

Laughing, he cleared a tab. “I said how could I give her more grandbabies if I worked all the time, and she changed that tune fast. Then said to thank you for pushing me a little bit.”

“She’s welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then she stood at the bar, looked out at the floor, looked through the glass to the patio tables. She’d get through, she told herself.

She’d get through because she had to.



* * *



And she had to tell her ladies—no choice there either. When she came down in the morning, it gave her a lift to see the two of them, both dressed for work, sitting out on the patio, surrounded by flowers as they drank their coffee.

She’d put a damper on that morning ritual, but they’d get through that, too.

After making her version of morning coffee, she went out to join them.

“You’re up early,” her mother commented. “Gram and I were just luxuriating, since we don’t have to go in until eleven. Maybe even stretch it to noon.”

“And I’m thinking we bring home pizza. Should be early enough for you to grab a slice or two if you want.”

“Who says no to pizza?”

Morgan sat and took a moment, just one more moment.

A hummingbird, bright as an emerald in the sun, gorged at the feeder while a downy woodpecker drilled madly at the suet. Flowers they’d planted in the spring bloomed, spiked, spread in cheerful abandon.

Here, in this one more moment, everything held good and sweet and lovely. Gavin Rozwell wanted to spoil that, to end that.

She simply couldn’t let him.

“I spoke with the federal agents yesterday.”

“What happened?” Quickly, Audrey straightened in her chair.

“I want you to know they’re handling it, but I got a credit card bill in the mail. Not my card, not my charges.”

“That creature,” Olivia began, “because I won’t call him a man, is relentlessly evil.”

“No argument. But Agent Beck said he’d made another mistake with this. I believe her. He charged things in New Orleans, so they know he was there on those dates.”

“He wants to scare you.”

“And he did, Gram, but I’m okay now. Honestly, the confrontation I had—no, it was a fight, call it what it was. The fight I had with Opal Reece at Après was almost worse. And with this, the FBI’s handling it, they’ll deal with the credit card company, they’ll track his movements in New Orleans. Maybe, with luck, figure out a way to find where he went after. It’s too much to hope that he’d stay there, but they’ll have a trail. I think.”