Free Coming in from the Cold by Sarina Bowen Page A

bartender required.
    “It’s no problem, Trav,” she said, tying the half apron around her waist. “I think it will be fun.”
    “Hope so,” he said, looking up and down the bar, which was nearly empty, except for three ski-lift operators at the far end, and Willow’s friend Callie at the other. “Wednesdays aren’t too bad,” he said. “And I’ll be back before the bowling league guys come in. If there’s something you can’t find, ask Annie.” He dropped his voice, even though the waitress was out of earshot in the adjacent dining room. “She’s kind of a bitch, but she’s worked here a long time.”
    “Gotcha,” Willow said, smoothing the apron down. “Have fun and don’t worry about a thing.”
    “If she gets slammed, I’ll help out,” Callie volunteered from her bar stool.
    “If she gets slammed, I wanna watch,” one of the lifties muttered, and his friends guffawed into their beers.
    Travis leaned close to Willow’s ear again. “They’re disgusting, but probably harmless,” he said.
    “I’ve heard worse.” She flashed him a smile.
    When Travis went out, Willow did a little twirl in front of Callie. “This
is
kind of fun. Like playing lemonade stand, but with alcohol.”
    The waitress, Annie, came in from the dining room, slapping an order slip down on the bar.
    Willow picked it up to read it. “Annie, I think this says: one book, one corn and a bird.”
    Annie snorted. “A Beck’s, a Corona and a Budweiser.”
    “Huh, okay. Coming right up.”
    When Annie huffed out of the bar, Willow grinned at Callie. “See that? I get to say things like ‘coming right up!’”
    “I guess Travis asked the right girl for this favor.” Callie sipped her beer. “Is he paying you for this gig?”
    “I won’t let him,” Willow said. “He’s helped me out a lot since John left. He recommended me for my temp job, he found someone to patch my roof for cheap. He’s been a good friend.”
    “You know he wants you, right?”
    Willow uncapped the Beck’s and the Corona and looked up. “What?”
    “Travis,” Callie said. “He likes you. A lot.”
    Willow frowned, adding a wedge of lime to the Corona’s bottleneck. The Bud was on tap, so she grabbed a pint glass off the rack and dispensed it with a flourish. “I don’t see that.”
    “Then you’re blind.”
    Willow set all the drinks on a tray and then leaned on the bar in front of Callie. “In other news, I had a small bit of luck last week.”
    “You mean, other than getting lucky?”
    Willow put a finger to her lips. “Don’t make me regret telling you about that, Callie. It’s not a story I’d share with anyone else.”
    “We can’t have drivers of Jeeps everywhere propositioning you.”
    “Right.”
    “Oh, Willow,” Callie sighed. “I’m just jealous. I’m single for the first time in three years, and life at the hospital is all drudgery.”
    Willow reached across the bar and rubbed her arm. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Wait, I’m so busy whining I forgot to hear your lucky news.”
    “I rented out the apartment.”
    “Hurray!” Her friend applauded. “That’s great. How?”
    Willow shrugged. “I was going to make a new sign, but I got the call first. My new tenant is some kind of coach working at the mountain until spring. He was very apologetic that he only needed four months. And I’m jumping for joy, of course, just to have someone for that long.”
    “Is he hot?”
    Willow smiled. “I’m happy to introduce you. He looks to be about sixty-five years old, but with a nice, friendly face.”
    Callie rolled her eyes. “Figures. But still, I’m so glad for you. That’s a big relief, isn’t it?”
    “It will keep the bill collectors at bay. Maybe he can recommend another tenant by the time he goes.”
    Annie came into the bar again, with another of her illegible order slips. Willow hopped down to look at it before she could leave. “Does this say a White Russian? A Dirty Martini…and what’s this last