“You can’t stay there,” Isaac barks gruffly.
My hand curls into a fist around the small pile of salt in my palm. “Why’s that?”
“Let’s just say the typical Southern Comfort clientele pay by the hour.” He looks almost embarrassed, red staining the skin of his neck. “Girl like you doesn’t belong in a place like that.”
“A bed’s a bed. I’m not fussy,” I murmur. “And I’m sure I’ve slept in worse places.”
He stares at me for a beat, a hundred questions he’d like to ask evident in his eyes. He suppresses them — for now, at least. “I suppose you plan to walk there alone, in the middle of the night?”
My lips twist. “Unless I’ve suddenly developed the powers of teleportation…”
“Rough part of town.”
“I’m not some wilting flower. I can handle myself.”
“That may be. But I won’t sleep tonight if I let you walk out of here by yourself, headed toward what’s, for all intents and purposes, a whorehouse. Folks say I’m a mean bastard, and they’re mostly right, but even I have my limits.” He pauses, staring at me. The expression on his face tells me he’s already regretting whatever he’s about to say. “There’s a room upstairs. I used to crash there on late nights in my younger years, when I first opened this place. It’s a dusty mess, hasn’t been used in a damn near decade. Mattress is lumpier than my ex-wife’s mashed potatoes. Not much bigger than a closet, really.” He blows out a breath. “But you can stay there, at least until you get on your feet.”
I blink, stunned into silence by the offer.
He rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a separate set of stairs that lead to the lot out back, so you can come and go as you please during the day. Just make sure you lock up when you leave. And don’t be late tomorrow night. It’s Friday so we’ll be slammed. Plus, Dotty has the flu, which means her three kids will have it soon if they don’t already. I’ll need you to take over her shifts for a while.”
I nod, feeling too overwhelmed to speak.
“Grab a granola bar from the staff kitchen before you go,” he orders in a brusque tone. “You get any thinner, you’ll disappear.”
“Isaac…” His kindness is so unexpected, I can’t help it. My eyes start to sting.
“Ah, hell. Don’t do that.” Seeing the tears glossing over my eyes, Isaac is now blushing in earnest. It’s almost comical to see such a big bear of a man undone by a few waterworks.
“S-sorry,” I hiccup, looking up at the ceiling to keep the tears from trickling out. “I just—I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. Just take the damn key. I’m going home.”
With that, he presses something into my palm and walks away. I stare down at the brass key sitting atop the small pile of pale white salt until the tears start to fall in earnest. Just like that, in the span of a single day, I have a job. I have a home. And, for the first time in as long as I can remember…
I have hope.
* * *
“You need a ride somewhere?”Carly asks as we step through the back exit into the staff lot.
“No.” I clutch the key a bit more firmly, trying not to drop it. I’m already juggling my bag and my guitar. “Thanks though.”
We walk in silence, listening as Adam locks the door behind us. My eyes linger for a moment on the spot where I stood with Ryder a few hours ago, before the end of my break forced me to bolt. He never came back inside, after that. I wonder where he went… and who he went with…
A scowl contorts my features.
It’s none of your business if he went home with a hundred girls and hosted the biggest orgy known to man,I scold myself.He’s not yours. He never will be.
“What are you frowning at?” Carly asks.
“Nothing.” I force my face into a blank mask.
“Uh huh.” Carly makes a doubtful sound, but doesn’t push for details. “You just moved here, right?”
“Today.” I nod. “Or… yesterday, I guess, since it’s now officiallytomorrow.”
“Damn, girl. One day in Nashville and you’re already working at The Nightingale? It took me six months to get an interview. How’d you swing that?”