with everything except him. The other two women he didn’t recognize. He’d left messages for both of them earlier, so he didn’t know what they thought of the change in ownership.
He stepped forward. “I’m Scott Callahan, the new owner of Riley’s Bar.”
“I’m Misty,” the first woman told him. She was older for a bar waitress—early fifties if he had to guess. Her jet-black hair curled on top and was held back by a shiny clip. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. It was hard to imagine her hefting a tray of glasses. But that remained to be seen.
“I appreciate all of you coming in.”
Tina gave him a slow smile. “I didn’t know you were going to buy the place.”
Scott returned her smile. “I didn’t know Luke was your boyfriend when you invited me for a drink.”
She shrugged. “We’re on a break.”
“I’m single.” The fourth waitress piped up. “My name’s Erin.” The young woman sidled up to him. “I’ve been here awhile, so I can help you with anything you need.” She wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. “Anything.”
He heard Lexi snort as he unhooked his wrist and stepped away from Erin. He felt like more of a fraud as he tried to think of what they’d want a new boss to say. “I’m going to do my best to make Riley’s Bar the spot for nightlife. I think there are a lot of opportunities for improvement.”
“You can say that again,” Misty agreed.
“First and foremost, we need to take care of our customers—both current and potential. I’m going to be making some changes that will help with that.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Making this place look a little better for one thing. Nightly specials, more events to get locals and visitors in the door. It’s your job to keep them happy once they’re here. I want good customer service. Be attentive but not overbearing.”
“Do we let them hit on us?” All the women but Lexi giggled. She looked horrified.
“Only if you want them to.” He smiled. “But I’d prefer you kept your time here professional.”
The three experienced waitresses nodded, while Lexi continued to look straight ahead. She seemed as nervous as a deer at a shooting range.
“What about tips?” Tina asked. “Luke used to take part of what we got because he made the drinks.”
“He skimmed your tips?” Scott didn’t know why this surprised him. He’d checked the liquor on the shelves earlier and found several bottles watered down. Apparently, Luke hadn’t been cutting corners only on the alcohol.
“He said it was his fair share,” Misty offered.
“What’s fair is that you keep the money you make.” Scott stepped behind the counter. “Most nights I’m going to be handling the bar. Max and Jasper, the other bartenders, will fill in as needed.”
“You know how to mix a decent Tom Collins?” Misty asked.
Scott nodded. “I can mix almost anything.” He had spent time as a bartender when he’d been younger and had picked up a thing or two from his favorite haunts in D.C.
They watched him as if they expected more. He’d called them in here, but now had no pearls of wisdom to dispense. Basically, he’d wanted to see what he was working with. Other than Lexi, they all looked competent and at home in the bar.
He pulled shot glasses down from a shelf and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He needed something to take the edge off. Just one. He turned to the man standing in the doorway. “We’re going to have a round to welcome the new owner. Join us?”
Jon Riley shook his head. “No, boss. I’m five years sober.”
Scott’s hand paused in pouring. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” Jon said quietly and disappeared through the door.
“I don’t want one, either,” Lexi told him when he pushed four of the small glasses forward.
“You on the wagon, too?” Tina asked.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to drink while working.”
Scott felt a hot burst of irritation skim along his spine. He didn’t need to be judged by his little mouse of a waitress. “It’s a special occasion,” he told her. “Maybe if you relax, you won’t have so much trouble keeping the glasses on the tray instead of the floor.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” With a huff, she followed Jon.
“Anyone else got a problem?”
In response, the remaining waitresses each picked up a shot glass. They toasted and downed the whiskey. It burned his throat, but after a moment the familiar warmth uncurled in his stomach.
“Thanks, boss,” Misty told him and headed toward the back behind Lexi.
The other two women left the glasses on the bar and after a bit of small talk, meandered out the front door. Lexi and Misty were the two working tonight.
When he was alone again, Scott cleaned up the glasses and wiped down the top of the bar. He stared for a moment at the whiskey Lexi hadn’t drunk. It seemed a shame to waste perfectly good alcohol, so he quickly downed it before putting the glass in the stack to be washed.
He turned to see Lexi watching him from the side of the bar. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked quietly.
“Sweetheart, none of this is a good idea.” He returned the bottle of Jack to the shelf. “Luckily, I’m not much one for caring. If it feels right, I go for it.”
“And drinking on the job feels right to you?” She took a step closer. “It seems to me that’s what got you this bar in the first place.” She pulled the apron in her hands over her head and reached behind her back to tie it, causing her breasts to push against the soft material of her light pink T-shirt.
Scott sucked in a breath. Hell, the T-shirt wasn’t even formfitting and its conservative crew-neck collar practically covered half her throat. Misty was wearing a low-cut, skintight number that barely held in her ample chest. But it hadn’t had any effect on him. Unlike Lexi’s buttoned-up outfit.
He walked around the edge of the bar and took her arm, spinning her away from him.
“What are you doing?” she said with a gasp.
“Helping you,” he answered and tied her apron strings together. “It seems to me the reason I’m in this mess is because of you and your contract.”
“You wanted to buy the bar,” she argued.
“I wanted to pick a fight with Luke,” he countered, resting his hands on her hips, unable to resist circling his thumbs against the place where her shirt hem met the fabric of her black dress slacks. Attorney clothes, clearly made of expensive
