“That isn’t me,” he replied.

“Well, then, this obviously is eating you and that’s your consequence because I have feelings and you walked all over them and you can’t order me to shake it off so you can feel better. It’s there, burned in my brain and I can’t just forget it because you tell me to. So you have to live with that. You can’t and want me gone, say it now because I’m beginning to like Betty and I met Shambles and Sunny and I’m having dinner with them tomorrow night and I’d rather not make ties when I’m going to need to hit the road because my boss is going to get rid of me.”

“Shambles and Sunny?” he asked.

“Shambles and Sunny,” I answered but didn’t share more. “Now, can we just move on and do our best to work together and all other times avoid each other or do you want me to go?”

He moved forward an inch and I again fought the urge to retreat.

“Forgiveness is divine,” he said softly and I’d never heard him talk soft. He had a very nice voice but when it went soft, it was beautiful.

This also sucked.

“I’m not divine,” I returned. “I’m also not Ace and I’m not Babe. I’m Lauren. You don’t like my name, don’t call me anything at all. Now can I clean the danged table?”

I had my head tipped back to look him in the eye but I could tell he was expending effort to hold his whole body still.

Then he said in that soft voice, “I’m sorry, Ace.”

“Me too,” I replied instantly being clear I didn’t accept his apology which wasn’t a nice thing to do but then again, I was trying out this not being nice thing and I found that what he said hurt so much I could do it so I was going to go with it. “Now can I get back to work?”

He moved so he was far less than foot away and edging into my space.

“Krys told me your story,” he said quietly and I sighed but didn’t speak. “You bust your husband’s balls like this?”

I felt my innards seize and it didn’t feel very nice.

Then I asked, “Are you pissed now? Is that the reason for the latest ass**le remark?”

“Nope, just curious.”

“Then no,” I replied and went on to share with brutal honesty, “I loved him. He meant everything to me. I thought we were happy, mostly. We had our crap times but most of the time I thought we were happy. Or at least I was. So I didn’t need to bust his balls because I loved him, we were good together and we had a good life. That is, until I found out it was all a lie, every last nuance of it, and I still didn’t bust his balls. I granted him a divorce, sold our house and stepped aside. I could have wrung him dry but it would only prolong my sorrow and maybe build bitterness so what’s the point of that?”

Tate watched me while I spoke, his eyes riveted to mine in a strange way that made it seem like the words I spoke etched themselves on his soul the instant I said them and when I was done he asked, “So you forgive him for bein’ a cheatin’ asshole and a liar and a dickhead who’s so f**kin’ dumb he throws away a good thing but you can’t forgive me for sayin’ somethin’ stupid?”

“I didn’t forgive him. I just didn’t bust his balls. That was your question and that was my answer. Now can I wipe down the table?”

He was silent for several long moments before he said, “Yeah, Ace, you can wipe the table and we can find a way to work together but I’ll tell you straight, I ain’t puttin’ the effort in to avoid you just because you’re holdin’ tight to somethin’ that didn’t mean shit. You can try to avoid me but it ain’t a big bar, it ain’t a big town – you got attitude and you’re stubborn as all hell but you ain’t gonna be able to avoid me. Our paths will cross.”

I looked to the ceiling. “Great, more reasons to lose sleep.”

“Babe,” he called and I rolled my eyes back to him.

“Stop calling me babe,” I demanded.

Tate ignored me. “You want sweet dreams, lose the attitude and you might find I’ll give you reason to have them.”

I felt my body seize at his words but he was done. I knew this because he turned and walked away, going straight down the hall until the murky darkness enveloped him and I lost sight of him.

My body stayed frozen while new words in Tate’s deep, rough voice ricocheted around in my brain.

And a dickhead who’s so f**kin’ dumb he throws away a good thing...

And if that wasn’t enough…

You want sweet dreams, lose the attitude and you might find I’ll give you reason to have them.

The first one was undeniably nice. The second one I didn’t get at all.

“Hey there, Lauren,” I heard, jumped at the sound and whirled to see Jim-Billy entering. “I’m early but could I have a draft?”

I looked at my watch then at Jim-Billy. “It’s just past eleven thirty.”

“I had a tough mornin’,” Jim-Billy replied, heading to his stool.

“What happened?” I asked, abandoning the still dirty table and going to Jim-Billy.

“I woke up,” Jim-Billy answered and then stopped talking.

“You woke up…” I prompted.

“Yep,” he said. “Now can I have a draft?”

I couldn’t help it, after that scene with Tate, what he said, what it might mean, the fact that I really didn’t like him and not only had to work with him but he was my boss, what Jim-Billy said made me laugh so hard I had to throw my head back to do it. Maybe it wasn’t that funny but I really needed the release of a laugh so I took it.

I put down my cloth and the spray and headed behind the bar.

“Don’t know if I’m allowed but seeing as you had to wake up and all, you deserve a draft.” I grabbed a mug and went to the taps. “And anyway, maybe me serving you will get me fired.”

“You wanna get fired?” Jim-Billy asked.

“Right now I do,” I replied.

“You been here two days, woman,” Jim-Billy reminded me. “And three days ago you practically begged Krystal to take you on.”

“Yes, but I got to work with Krystal those two days, Tate’s in today,” I told him, filling the mug with beer.

“Darlin’, every other waitress in this bar and most the women in this town would think it the other way around,” Jim-Billy returned.

“I’m not them,” I retorted, pushed back the tap and took the beer to Jim-Billy seeing his eyebrows up and his forehead scrunched together in long lines.