Free Coming in from the Cold by Sarina Bowen Page B

one?”
    “A Shirley Temple.”
    “Right.” Willow looked around, wondering why there weren’t any cherries alongside the lemon and lime wedges that Travis had left for her. Where were the cherries? Willow squatted down to inspect the shelves below the bar. Travis had all manner of ingredients down here—Worcestershire sauce, different sorts of olives in jars. “My kingdom for a jar of cherries,” she grumbled. “Who knew I could be undone by a Shirley Temple?”
    “Wills?” Callie called her. “You have another customer.”
    “Just a sec…” Willow put the olives back onto the shelf and stood up quickly. There was now a man seated a couple of seats away from Callie.
    Holy hell
.
    It was Dane. And he was every bit as surprised as she was, his bright blue eyes opening wide. Willow froze for a moment, her heart stuttering. She took a half step back, bumping into the beer cooler. Grabbing a tap to steady herself she accidentally dispensed a short stream of ale before righting herself. Her face began to flush to a deep red.
    “Hi,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
    “Hi.” She stared at him.
    “You’re not Travis,” he said.
    “Right.” She cleared her throat. “I’m just covering for him so he can see his kid’s peewee hockey game.”
    Their staring match was interrupted by one of the lifties. “Hey, hottie! Get down here a minute.”
    Willow wiped her hands on her apron. “And no good deed goes unpunished,” she said. “Excuse me.”
    “I’m thirsty.” The lifty waved her over. “Another Guinness, honey?”
    “Coming right up,” Willow sighed. At the taps, she began pulling a Guinness into a pint glass, tipping it carefully to avoid a head. “What can I get you?” she asked Dane over her shoulder.
    “Um,” he said. “I’d love a cheeseburger,” he said.
    “Food…” she said. “Tricky. Give me a minute.” She took the Guinness down to the asshole at the end. Then she leaned over the bar to call into the next room. “Hey, Annie!”
    A moment later the waitress appeared. “Where are my drinks?” she said by way of a greeting.
    “Almost there,” Willow promised. “Do you happen to know where Travis keeps the maraschino cherries?”
    “Did you check the fridge?” she asked.
    Willow felt herself flush again. Where was her brain? “As a matter of fact, I did not.”
    Annie snorted.
    Willow leaned down for the bar refrigerator. “I thought they were indestructible,” she said under her breath. “I think they found some at Pompeii. I’ll have your cocktails in two shakes,” she grabbed the cold jar of cherries. “Could you take a food order for this gentleman, please?” She nodded at Dane, as if he were a complete stranger. If he wanted to pretend their night together never happened, then that’s what she’d do, too.
    Annie lumbered over to him, jutting her boobs into his face. “The usual? Cheddar burger medium rare, onion rings and a Corona?”
    “Great,” Dane said, leaning back an inch or two.
    To Willow, Annie said, “If I’m taking his food order, I’m going to put the beer under my number, too.”
    “Knock yourself out,” she replied without looking up.
    When Annie left, Callie spoke up. “I wonder if she delivers the food on those things, too?”
    Willow heard Dane snort from behind the sports section.
    She made a Shirley Temple, putting two cherries into the glass. “The kid will thank you for that,” Callie said.
    “Right?” Willow asked, trying to keep her cool. “That’s the whole point of ordering a Shirley Temple. The cherry. So, why not an extra?” She put the drinks on a tray, then carried them down the empty expanse of bar. “It can be my signature drink. The Shirley Temple, with an extra cherry.” Now she was babbling.
    When Willow put the tray of drinks back down, the lifty nearest to her clamped a hand down on her wrist, trapping her there. “I’ll take your cherry, honey,” he said, leering up at her.
    Her breath