“It’s a bar…with bar food. You get what you get with what we have to work with.” I shrug.
He scans the small menu even though he gets the same thing every time he comes in here. “I’ll take the chicken sandwich, extra bacon, and ranch on the side.”
Yep, the same thing he always gets.
Nodding, I jot it down on our guest check before sliding it through the small window that leads to the kitchen. “New order,” I shout to the two kitchen staff I have back there. The moment I turn around, the bell for the door dings again. The most annoying noise in the world.
“My man!” Tucker bellows, making his way to the bar when he spots my father, with his friend, Levi, in tow. His buddy from work right behind him. “Oh shit, hey, Pops. Didn’t see ya there.”
“Afternoon, Tuck. Staying out of trouble?” he asks.
“Always, sir. You know that.”
I roll my eyes because Tucker Daniels lives and breathes trouble.
Even if he’s just my cousin, I love him like a brother. But he sure is a smart ass, and always finds himself caught up in trouble he doesn’t need. I blame it on his age. I can’t discredit how hard of a worker he is, though. He spends all day doing construction,from building new homes to fixing up businesses in town, and then comes and works a few nights a week at the bar for me. For a twenty-three-year-old, he’s probably the hardest-working guy around and will drop everything he’s doing for his friends and family, without hesitation.
“Don’t you get enough of this place?” I ask Tucker.
“Never in a million years, Griff. You know this.” He grins proudly before taking a vacant seat next to my father, while his friend, Levi, takes the spot next to him at the same time the cook brings out Eugene’s sandwich.
“Ohhh, the chicken sandwich with extra bacon? Good choice, Pops.” Tucker nods in approval before facing me again. “Can I get the same?” I pull out the guest chest to take his order. “Oh, I’ll take some of that spicy ranch sauce stuff you got on it too.”
“Levi?” I say his name as if to ask if he wants anything before putting both of their orders in.
“Same thing,” Levi says before I drop the guest check in the window, and I let the staff know we have another order.
Levi works with Tucker doing construction on the days where the workload is heavy, other days he tends to the Barlow Ranch and the horses for us. He’s the best ranch hand we have.
I let them have a conversation over work and the weather, while I work on stocking what little we have behind the bar. It’s been days since I heard things are going to be delayed, and guess what, it’s still not here.
I pride myself on being able to carry a variety of things that guests would want to drink. Whiskeys and bourbons, flavored vodkas, and rums for mixed drinks. Beer isn’t a common thing we sell here, believe it or not, but I always make sure to have it available for the few regulars who do drink it.
I like to think it’s because of the atmosphere I’ve created here.
There are no windows, so it’s kind of dark and weathered here. Everything on the inside is a deep wood color, including the tables and chairs. I think people associate the color schemewith a dark amber liquid. Whiskey and bourbon are most definitely our best sellers.
And guess which one is delayed right now?
Ding ding. My fucking bourbon.
I buy only the best and refuse to buy it from some cheap distillery. I import our bourbon straight from Fiasco, Kentucky.
Foxx Bourbon is our best seller. Rightfully so. I’d wait forever for it if I needed to.
“Hey, Griff,” Tucker interrupts my thoughts at the same time the kitchen brings out the last two lunches. “Have you seen the new Benz around town? I saw it roll by the other day and I thought it was just a passerby but rumor has it they moved here.”
My eyebrows knit together because I know exactly who he’s talking about.
“What a stupid move on his part,” Tucker continues. “A white car? In a town full of dirt roads? What a dumb ass.” He laughs, shaking his head.
“Pretty sure it’s a female,” I tell him.
“Yeah, duh.” Levi swats his arm. “You know, the whole white car thing. She’s probably on the PTA somewhere and always has her shit together.”
“Doubt it,” Tucker scoffs with a mouthful of food. “You know small-town talk, we would totally know if she had a kid with her. So, PTA is off the table. But I wonder how she will survive here without that bullseye chain store.”
Staring in disbelief, my gaze bounces between them. “What are you two even saying?”
