To Hold and to Heal (BWWM Interracial Romance) (4 page)

             
A chill ran through her. Even after three years, her brother's death still rattled her. Even though he had left her with this mess to deal with to run off to the army it still shook her. When she spoke all the venom was gone from her voice. “There's nothing left to talk about, he's gone. There's nothing anyone can do about that.”

             
His hands twisted over themselves on the table top. “There's more,” he said, looking away. “It was all my fault,” he said in a rush to get the words out.

             
He stopped, waiting, worry filling his eyes.

             
“Thank you for sharing that. But it doesn’t matter. Like I said, Sam's gone. And if that's what you came to do, to say, then it's done now. You've laid your flowers on the proverbial grave.” She moved to stand up.

             
His hand snaked across the table, grasping at hers. Just like last night, his heat seared her, warming her belly. It was different from the summer heat outside, different from anything she’d ever felt.

             
She looked down at his hand. His skin was slightly tanned but still bright white against her hand. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist slowly, stroking the underside of it, sending tingles up her soft skin. “Wait Nice, please, talk to me. Or just let me talk to you.”

             
Nice sat back down in the chair with a loud sigh. “So talk,” she said, her voice softer then she meant it to be.

             
He nodded and released her hand. Inside, she screamed for him to touch her again, outside she just folded her arms and leaned back.

             
“Your brother was my best friend in the field. I think you may have known that.” She shrugged and he continued. “We were blowing some enemy munitions at the end of the day. I didn't canvas the area properly. There was another stash close by. When we blew the first one, it set off the second and that's what. . .” he trailed off. His green eyes were locked on hers to see her reaction.

             
She nodded slowly. “Alright. I get it. Thank you for telling me.”

             
Her heart pounded in her ears. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she wouldn't let him, or anyone see her weak. Sam had been dead a long time. She pushed back from the table. “I have to get back to work. The bar opens soon. There's still a lot I have to do.”

             
“Wait!”

She stopped and turned back to him. “I promised Sam I would make sure you were okay. And he wanted me to tell you-”

             
Nice raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes opening wide. She turned away from him. She heard him moving the chair back and standing, felt his hand on her trembling shoulders. “Nice, I'm sorry, I-”

             
The barking laugh spilled from her lips. “What? Make sure I'm okay? My big brother sent his best friend from the war to make sure that I'm okay as his dying wish? Yeah, right!”

             
His eyes darkened. She’d hurt his feelings, but she couldn't stop laughing. “Look, I'm glad that you decided to finally honor my brother's wishes or whatever, but you're a little late. I'm a big girl now. I don't need some knight with a bum leg to come save me!” 

             
He rubbed a tired hand across his eyes.

“I'm okay, so consider your debt paid,” she hissed.

             
When he opened his eyes, they were filled with fire. “No, it’s not. Let me help you. With something, anything. You're tired.” He reached out and touched her face, his thumb tracing the soft bottom lid of her eye. She shuddered as he moved slowly closer. “Please, let me do something.”

             
She was momentarily stilled. His hands on her were driving her crazy with want and something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Need
, she thought to herself. She shook the thought away and smacked his hand. “Cut it out! I said I was fine and I meant it. “ 

             
He nodded. “That,” he said, pointing at the elaborate gift wrapped package on the table, “is for you. I thought you should have it.”

             
“Whatever, Army boy. Just get out. The bar's closed and I’ve got work to do.”

             
With one long last look at her face he turned back to the table and grabbed his cane. He continued out the door without another word. Nice followed, locking the door behind him. Once the bar was empty she leaned against the door then slid to the floor. Her heart was beating too fast. She breathed deeply trying to calm down. Between last night and today, it had all been too much.

She sat on the floor, willing it's coolness to spread through her. “Shit,” she muttered. “Bernice,” she said out loud. “You do not have time for this. You have to take care of your drunk of a father. You have to get this bar in order. You have to figure out how to save this place and mooning over some
boy
isn't going to help any of that.”

             
Pulling herself up off the floor, she walked back to the kitchen and picked up the package Alden had left behind.

***

             
The Speakeasy was busy for a Thursday night. As usual, Nice was at the bar filling orders. The game played loudly on the TV above her. It was all the usuals. By nine, Nice had already forgotten about the visit from Alden, too wrapped up in the running of the bar. One of her waitresses had called in sick so they were short staffed, but that was nothing new.

             
All around her people shouted her name, “Nice! Get me a beer!” “Nice, get me another drink and an order of fries!” “Nice, let me see that sweet ass!”

On and on it went. She smiled and filled orders, delivered food to tables and mixed drinks.  She left Tanya, her backup tender, at the bar alone for the most of the night to cover the waitress’s shift.

             
Nice moved on autopilot. She was exhausted. Alden had been right about that. But there was no time to rest, not even to sit down for a moment.  Thank God, the night was almost over with final call in less than an hour. She hustled to the kitchen window with a fist full of orders with the intention of swapping for the filled orders when Tanya stuck her head through the window. “Sorry to do this, but Cheryl just called. She quit. Said she’ll be in next week to pick up her check.”

             
“What? When did that happen?”

             
Tanya shrugged. “I don't know, an hour ago? I wanted to let you know before I left for the night. By the way, I have to leave early tonight. The sitter can't stay.”

             
Nice nodded. “Of course, of course. Yeah. Shit! Kitchen's closed for the night.”

             
Tanya nodded back at her and returned to work. When Nice got to the counter she knocked against the metal to get Bill, the cook’s attention. “Hey! Shut it down in there. We're losing Tanya early, I need to tend bar.”

             
Bill shrugged and started turning off the fryers and putting things away. Nice grabbed the last few orders. After delivering them she found the patrons whose orders she wouldn’t be filling and explained. They grumbled and left. She cursed to herself, hating to lose the revenue. It wasn’t like she had a choice though. With half her staff deserting her, she was needed behind the bar. Couldn’t be both places at once.

             
She got back to the bar just in time as Tanya was wrapping up her last drink order. “I'm sorry to do this to you, but you know.”

             
She wanted to scream, “No I don't know!” but she just smiled and said, “its okay, family first. See you tomorrow.”

             
By the time the last drunk left the bar she was ready to drop. Even though she had been left in a lurch by her staff her father had failed to make an appearance so it wasn't all bad. She locked the door behind the last customer. It was two AM and she still had to clean the place up.

She heard Bill in the back taking out the last of the kitchen trash. The door clicked closed and she knew he wasn't coming back to help with anything else. Usually one of the girls stayed to help with the clean up but with Tanya leaving early and Cheryl quitting there just wasn't anyone else to do it.

             
Story of her life.

She grimly grabbed a broom and got to work. It was close to five AM by the time she finally stumbled into her apartment. Her father wasn't home. She pulled off her sneakers and stumbled down the hall to her bedroom. Not even bothering to change, she fell face first into bed and was asleep seconds later.

Chapter Three

             
“What the hell are you doing back here?”

Nice glowered at Alden who was sitting on the edge of the bar as if he belonged there. The bar was deserted except for the two of them. It was early yet. He’d slipped in the front door and taken a seat while she’d been in the kitchen.

             
He had a half smile on his face. “Waiting for you to take my order. You're open, right?”

             
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we're open. What'll be? A beer?”

             
“Bourbon. On the rocks,” he replied nonplussed.

             
“Whatever. I'm not sure what you're after here exactly, but I'm going to honest with you. I don't have time for whatever is going on. I've got this place to run.” She put a napkin down in front of him and poured his drink. “So whatever you think this is, it isn't. You made your apology and need to be on your way.”

             
He nodded. “I did, but I want to make sure you're okay. You don't seem okay.”

             
His eyes had a clouded appearance. Like a storm was brewing in them.

             
Nice shook her head and frowned. “You're bordering on being a stalker.”

             
He shrugged. “I made a promise to your brother.”

             
The bar door opened and Peggy walked in wearing shorts and a t-shirt with her copper colored hair pulled into a tight pony tail. “Hey girl! Here I am to help, as promised.”

             
She stopped short when Alden turned to face her. “Holy shit it's that guy from the club!”

             
Alden stood up and held his hand out to Peggy. “I’m Alden,” he said, taking her hand in a firm shake.

             
Nice walked out from behind the bar. “That guy from the club that you let me go home with. Yeah, it turns out Alden here is a friend of my brother's. From the Army. Isn't that funny?”

             
Peggy screwed up her face into one of tale tell expressions. “Sam's friends? What's he doing here? Hate to break it to you, but Sam's dead. Been in the ground for about three years.” Peggy never was one to beat around the bush.

             
“I know. I was there when he passed. I came to check on Nice,” he said softly.

             
Peggy snorted like she didn’t believe him. “After three years? What happened? The ghost of the brother that left her high and dry told you to come see her? Hey, Nice! Were you guys pen pals or is he just stalking you?”

             
“Told you were being a little stalkerish, Alden,” Nice said with a smirk on her face.

             
“Duly noted,” he replied with an eye roll.

             
The phone rang. “Please God, don’t let this be another one of my lazy ass employees calling in…” Nice muttered picking up the phone. “Hello, Speakeasy, how can I help you?”

             
“Hey, Nice. It's Bill.”

             
“Where are you? You're supposed to be walking in my door in like five minutes.”

             
“Sorry, I can't tonight. Something came up.”

             
Nice closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead as she tried to control her temper. “It's Friday night, Bill. You can't be calling in on a Friday!”

             
“Sorry, something came up,” he repeated before hanging up.

             
She hung up the phone. “Damn!”

             
“What?” Peggy asked, coming from the back with ice for the bar.

             
“Guess who just called in? I have no cook on a Friday night!” She took the ice from Peggy and dumped it.

             
Alden stood up and walked to the back of the bar.

             
“Hey! Where are you going?” Nice half shouted.

             
Alden looked at her, his head cocked to the side. “Back to the kitchen. You need a cook.”