Roping Melanie by Melissa Ellen
3
Melanie
“This should be the last of it,” Ernie informed me as he lowered the front end of the dolly loaded with boxes of liquor to the ground. The two of us worked together to remove them and stack them in a spot near the storage shelves.
Once we were done, he handed me the purchase order to sign. I scribbled my name and then passed it back to him. “Thanks, Ernie.”
“See you same time next week?”
“Nope. It’ll be Tim next week, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon anyhow,” I replied with a smile. With small-town life, there was never a question of if you’d run into someone, only who, when, and where.
Ernie nodded, his mouth twisting up into a crooked grin that revealed his chipped tooth. “Sounds good. See ya ’round.” He tilted the dolly and wheeled it out the back door, whistling as he did.
A few minutes later, the loud diesel engine of his delivery truck vibrated off the metal walls of the bar, then faded into the distance. Once he was gone, I eyed the boxes in front of me, making the decision to save unpacking and stocking the shelves for later.
Instead, I grabbed an armful of lemons, limes, and oranges from the stock pile and headed out front to the bar to start washing and slicing them into wedges to garnish drinks. Considering it was Friday, one of our busiest nights of the week, we’d need more than normal for the various cocktails and beers we served.
I swayed my hips to the music as I carried out the task. A part of me was sad I wouldn’t be working the evening shift tonight. Unlike many people, I enjoyed the busy nights and not just for the tips that came along with them. I loved the energy of the place when it was packed wall to wall and interacting with all the people. Despite night shifts being my favorite, I was finding there were benefits to the morning shifts too. With usually having the place all to myself, I’d crank up the music and get lost in my thoughts as I went through various little tasks to prepare for the night ahead.
After finishing up with the fruit prep, I propped open the swinging door to the storage room and got to work on unpacking and shelving everything. I kept my eyes and ears peeled for any early morning customers. Besides a few regulars, it was rare, which is why it was only Tim or me who opened the place. Our first shift of servers didn’t arrive until just after noon and usually worked until close.
I was halfway through breaking down the boxes when there was the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing. After stacking the two liquor bottles in my hands on the shelf, I walked out of the stock room into the backbar, grabbing a few coasters off the end of the counter to greet the arriving customers.
Three very attractive men had entered and taken a seat at one of the many empty tables. One of the guys I’d know anywhere. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t know Tucker Monroe. The second gentleman was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. But it wasn’t either of them that had caught my eye. It was the third man that gave me pause.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him. There had only been one other time in my life where I’d experienced an overwhelming attraction like this . . . a lust that had me throwing all my inhibitions out the window.
Nash. The sexy bull rider from Vegas.
My feet were cemented to the concrete floor as the bottom dropped from my stomach and my heart raced. The throbbing loud in my ears.
“Melanie?”
Startled, I spun at the sound of my name being called from behind me, nearly jumping out of my own skin as my hand flew to my chest. “Lord almighty, Tim. You scared me half to death.”
Tim’s handsome face pinched in confusion. “I called your name at least three times.” He peered over my shoulder at the men. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just—” I glanced at the watch on my wrist. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least another hour and didn’t hear you come in.”
“I texted you earlier to let you know I was on my way back.”
“I missed it. I was busy and haven’t checked my phone,” I explained and jabbed a thumb over my shoulder toward the table of guys. “I was just about to greet Tucker.”
“I’ll grab them. You can head out if you need to.”
I peeked over my shoulder at where they all sat, indecision weighing on me. A part of me wanted to get a closer look to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. The other part, the scared and more dominating part, wanted to run as fast and as far as possible away from here. There was no doubt in my mind that was Nash sitting at the table with Tucker. I’d know those green eyes anywhere. They were the same ones I stared into day after day for nearly the last six years.
What in the world was he doing here? Would he even recognize me?
I self-consciously brushed a hand over my unwashed hair. It was a bit longer, a bit messier than the night I’d met him in Vegas. Good lord, I looked worse for wear. Over the last seven years, my appearance had become a low priority, taking a backseat to raising Avery as a single mother. Most days, I didn’t even bother fixing my hair. I just pulled it up in a messy bun, knowing by the end of my shift I’d be hot and sweaty, anyway.
“Mel? You feeling okay?” Tim asked, reeling me back in.
“Yeah. Sorry. Just a lot on my mind is all.” I handed him the coasters I’d picked up. “I guess I’ll take off if you’re all good here?”
“Yep. See you tomorrow.”
With one more glance at Nash, I slipped through the back room and out the rear exit, unseen.