Sawyer smiled and nodded her head, turning back to the steaming dishwasher. “I’m just gonna finish putting these away and then I’ll head over to the cabin, okay?”
“Sure thing. I made lasagna for dinner. Help yourself to as much as you want.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Duke. I brought a sandwich.”
I leveled her with a glare. “You insulting my cooking?”
“Of course not,” she hurried to say, wringing her hands in front of her. “It’s great! I just mean?—”
“Be sure to take a plate for your grandma, too. You know where the Tupperware is. I happen to know Maeve loves my cooking,” I added.
Sawyer looked away, chewing on the inside of her cheek. The poor girl didn’t have the best home life growing up. Her mom got mixed up with the wrong crowd when she was just a baby. The best thing that woman ever did was drop Sawyer offwith her grandmother before disappearing from her daughter’s life. While Maeve might not have had much, she gave Sawyer the best life she could.
The least I could do was treat the eccentric old woman to an occasional free meal.
“Duke—”
I shook my head. We went through this almost every week. “You help take care of my bar and my kid, Sawyer. I can cook you some damn dinner.” Her lips twitched at the exasperation in my tone. “Consider it a perk of the job if you have to. Just don’t argue.”
“You know how much I adore Harper. It’s an honor to watch her.” Sawyer’s eyes always softened when talking about my daughter. Sometimes I wondered if it hit a little too close to home, but I didn’t dare pry. Not when Harper enjoyed Sawyer’s company so much. “I appreciate it.”
“I appreciate you,” I said, placing my hand on her shoulder. “Now get out of here, will ya?”
Sawyer gave a two-finger salute as she closed the dishwasher and headed for the door. I moved behind her, watching through the dirty back window as she trudged up the walkway to our cabin. Once she was safe inside, I walked back to the bar and studied the room.
Sundays were usually quiet. So much so that I rarely worked them. Regulars lined the bar top, gossiping like old hens. I swore some of them were worse than the ladies at bingo. Behind them, the tables were empty save for one or two lone patrons. I almost glossed over the person in the back booth, but the flash of color stole my focus.
I wasn’t sure what caused Olivia Hart to be drinking alone at three in the afternoon on a Sunday, but it couldn’t have been good. Her back was to the bar, shoulders hunched forward. Silvery blonde hair was pulled back in a low bun at the nape ofher neck, allowing me to see her side profile. She stared straight ahead, eyes seemingly unfocused. The only movement she made was to occasionally lift a glass to her lips.
As much as I didn’t want to, I decided it was best to say something to her. We may not have reunited on the best terms, but I could swallow my pride and thank her for the groceries. I’d intended to pay her back anyway. Might as well suck it up and get it over with now.
After checking on the regulars, I rounded the bar and touched the other tables one by one. There weren’t many, which meant it was a shitty way to procrastinate. Two empty glasses sat on the worn wood. Her water was untouched. As she finished what was left of the third, she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Are you stalking me?” I asked, crossing my arms. It was my piss-poor attempt at a joke, but judging by the glare Olivia sent my way, it didn’t land.
“Lukas said you didn’t work on Sundays,” she muttered, circling one perfectly manicured finger around the rim of her glass. There was something about her that was different than before. For how tense she was, you’d think I just asked her to defuse a bomb.
“Usually don’t, but here I am.” I wasn’t going to tell her that the only reason I was here today was because of her. How I couldn’t stop wondering what she had thought of Harper and I living in that tiny ass cabin, or the fact she’d driven clear out of the way to make the delivery in the first place. I needed to do something other than sit around and let my mind run rampant. There was only so much laundry a man could do while keeping his sanity intact.
“Here you are,” she echoed with a sigh. Those same deft fingers rubbed at her temple as though trying to dissolve a headache. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“You’ve been drinking.”
Olivia snorted. “Very observant. I have been.”
I crossed my arms. “Well, you can’t drive.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I was going to call Lukas.” Then she groaned, hanging her head. “Nope. Scratch that. If I call Lukas, then he’ll give me a lecture, and I really don’t want one of those. Maybe I could call Cleo… Or Grady, even. Lord knows I’ve picked him up from this bar more times than I could fucking count.”
Her voice trailed off as she reached into her expensive purse and pulled out her phone. I wasn’t sure if I should give her privacy or not, so I decided to be useful instead. “Give me your keys.”
Olivia turned to me, eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“So I can put them up knowing you’re not a danger to yourself or others,” I bit out. “Bar rules.”
Honestly, those were only the rules for Too Drunk Johnny and the occasional rowdy out-of-towner that crossed our path, but I wasn’t taking any chances with Olivia. Knowing her, she’d slip out without so much as a word and walk home just to spite me. Then I’d be stuck calling everyone we knew to make sure she got home safe. This seemed like the safer option.
“Since when?” She leaned over, giving me a perfect view down her shirt. The perfect breasts hidden beneath the tight cotton blouse.