Chapter Seven

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The night goes smoothly in spite of me filling in at the last minute. Whenever a customer asks for information that I don't know, I just tell them I'm new and grab someone else to help me. Everyone is forgiving of my lack of knowledge, and it only comes up a few times over the course of the night.

The band plays three forty-five minute sets. They're a newer jazz combo from the local university. The female vocalist has a smooth and smoky voice that seems to caress each note. Her range and timbre suits the selections and the instruments that accompany her. The crowd loves them, and I have to shake myself out of a daze induced by the music more than once and get back to work.

After the band finishes, the last few customers finish their wine and food and head out into the cool September evening. Diana helps clean up the tasting room, getting it mostly ready for tomorrow. She gestures at the last few things. "Leave it. I'll come in a little early and finish getting everything ready."

"I'll finish up. You've been here longer than I have. Go home. I'll make sure everything's ready for tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Her voice betrays her hesitation, but I can tell she wants to leave.

I shoo her with the rag in my hands. "I've got it. Go. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gives me a grateful smile and a wave and leaves.

I wave back and return to wiping down the bar, replacing the unused glassware and gathering the last few dishes that need to go back to the kitchen. I hum some of the songs I recognized from tonight, enjoying the solitude and the familiar physical work of cleaning up after restaurant service.

"You have a nice voice."

I jump about three feet in the air and turn with my hand over my heart to find Max in the doorway from the kitchen. I'm breathing like I just ran a marathon and my heart feels like it wants to beat out of my chest. "Oh my God, Max. You scared the shit out of me!"

He chuckles. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew I was still here."

I shake my head, still trying to recover my breath. The shock of someone else being here has worn off, but my trouble now is simply Max. His presence causes my heart to race and my breath to become labored. And we're here together. Alone.

"I thought you went home a little while ago."

He shakes his head once, a quick negative. "No. I always stay until things are cleaned up. I've been in the kitchen." He retrieves the last of the dishes that I've collected at the end of the bar. With a nod in my direction, he goes back to the kitchen, leaving me in silence once more, only now I know I'm not alone.

I take my time wiping down the tables and bar. I'm pretty sure I wiped some of it down twice. When I finish I hesitate before going back to the kitchen. I need to put the rag away, but I don't know what to say to Max. This is ridiculous. I should just treat him like any other coworker. It's been a month since our one night together. Given how we met, I'd be surprised if he hasn't been with other women in that time. Probably several. If what Diana said earlier is anything to go by, the guy gets around, which just confirms my decision to stay away. I'm sure he's moved on by now anyway.

I take a deep breath and steel myself to go in the kitchen. Before I can, Max comes back out. He gives me a once over and takes the rag out of my hand, stepping back through the door for just a second to toss it in the hamper in the closet next to the door, ready for the laundry service to pick up next week.

He's back before I can move. "Would you like a drink before you go?" His voice remains neutral, no hint of suggestion in it. This is how he was that first night, though. I didn't know for sure what he was planning until he'd backed me against my hotel room door, his hands cupping my face, and his lips on mine.

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