Free Caught Up in You by Sophie Swift

Obviously.”
    I scoff. “Let’s put it this way. If you had gone to high school with us, you wouldn’t even have known who I was. And our high school had ninety people in it.”
    Blake leans in and whispers hot and breathy in my ear. “I certainly know who you are now.”
    I shrug him away, wiping the moisture from my cheek. Blake returns to the other side of the bar, leaning on his elbows and focusing his hazel eyes on me. “So. When are you going to let me take you out for a real drink?”
    I bark out a laugh. Blake is harmless. I’ve learned never to take his advances seriously. Flirting is just something that happens when you work in a restaurant. And Blake flirts with everyone .
    “My family doesn’t have a good history with bartenders,” I remind him.
    “I’m not like most bartenders.”
    “You’re exactly like most bartenders,” I shoot back.
    He feigns offense but at least he’s stopped giving me those stupid lovesick puppy eyes.
    I swallow another mouthful of wine.
    “Maybe you should slow down.” His eyes narrow in concern.
    “Actually, I should speed up. There’s only one way to arm yourself against Alex Smart.” I “cheers” the air with my wine.
    Blake takes a clean beer mug from the sink and starts to dry it with his towel. “I thought sisters were supposed to be like best friends or something.”
    I shrug. “Some are.”
    I polish off the wine in my glass and tap the rim. Blake picks up a new bottle from the shelf and examines the label. “How about a glass of the…” he squints as he reads the name of the vineyard, “In-kai-sa day-la rock-chetta.”
    I fight back an eye roll. “ Incisa della Rocchetta ,” I correct his pronunciation of the Tuscan wine. “And sure.”
    Blake is a sweetheart and a great bartender but his Italian sucks.
    After what happened a year ago, however, we stopped hiring Italian bartenders.
    He uncorks the bottle and swaps out my glass. Just then, I feel a tap on my shoulder and I freeze. Leave it up to Alex to sneak in when my back is turned. To catch me unaware.
    I turn around and my stomach immediately unclenches when I see it’s just Olivia, our one and only server. She’s holding a plate of barely touched ravioli with a frown on her face.
    My body wilts. “Don’t tell me,” I say, feeling disappointment cover me like a wet rag.
    She cringes. “Sorry.”
    “What did they say was wrong with it?”
    She bites her lip. I can tell it kills her to bring this to me. “They just said the sauce was... bland .”
    My hand clenches around the stem of my newly filled glass.  “How could it be bland? I followed my mother’s recipe to the teaspoon. It has everything in it that she put in it. I don’t understand! No one ever called my mother’s sauces bland.”
    Olivia stands there, unsure of what to say. I know this is not her fault and it’s wrong of me to take it out on her. So I simply sigh and stand up from my bar stool. “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’ll take it off their bill.”
    She flashes me the quickest of smiles and disappears. I trudge over to the computer, input my manager’s code, and comp the ravioli, bringing the couple’s bill down from $35.95 to $15.34.
    Combined with the two other tables we’ve had, that brings are total sales tonight to....
    Sixty-two dollars.   
    Fan-fucking-tastic.
    My phone gives a shrill ding and I jump. “Oh! My cannoli!”
    I hurry through the server’s station and into the kitchen. Blake is on my heels. “Cannoli? You don’t even make cannoli for the regular menu.”
    I place my wine down on the counter, yank open the giant, industrial oven and remove the tray of freshly baked pastries, setting them on the counter. “Once they’re cool, I’m going to dip them in chocolate,” I say proudly.
    “This girl must be pretty special,” Blake says, bending over and inhaling a whiff from the hot tray.
    “I just want everything to be perfect,” I tell him. “If you knew Alex as well I do,