Read Online Something to Prove by Shannyn Schroeder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shannyn Schroeder
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“Awesome.” He scooped up his napkins and balled them up. One by one he shot them into
the trash can behind the bar. He only missed twice.
“Are you done playing now? We have a lot of work to do. I have decorators coming in
to look around and offer bids on fixing this mess. I also have vendors coming in.
Before we can know what to order, I think we need to determine our drink menu.” She
reached into her briefcase and pulled out the legal pad. “Beer will be our biggest
seller, don’t you think? But like you said, this is a neighborhood bar, so I’m thinking
we stick with mostly domestic and a few popular imports. What else?”
“Liquor. No girlie drinks.”
“Well, that ruins my plan for an upscale wine tasting.”
Colin froze and stared at her. She hadn’t moved, but her cheek twitched. He asked,
“Did you just make a joke?”
“Obviously not a very good one.”
He smiled. “It wasn’t bad. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know you could joke.”
Her gaze left her list and met his eyes. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Even in the dim light, her hard stare shot into him. He had to remind himself that
they were on the same side. Something about her made him feel as if they were opponents.
He didn’t know much about her, but he’d like to peel away that guarded layer that
made them rivals. Like when she’d sat at his bar, tipsy on wine.
“I’ll head into the storeroom to do inventory.”
She nodded. “I’ll be in the office going through the mess there. How long do you think
you’ll need? The vendors and decorators will be here around four.”
He looked at the clock and realized that it was broken, so he shrugged. “That should
be fine.”
He headed to the back, looking for a door to the basement like they had at O’Leary’s.
He found it and opened it to a stench worse than death.
“The inventory is in the storeroom. Next door down,” Elizabeth said from behind him.
“What the fuck is that smell?” He pulled his shirt collar up over his nose to block
the odor.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been down there. Smells like a job for you.”
He slammed the door. “You’re not paying me enough to dispose of corpses. Talk to your
decorators.”
“Before I can hire someone to fix it, I need to know what the problem is.”
He turned to look at her. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for an argument.
“I’ll check it out after I finish with the inventory.”
She stared at him like she couldn’t believe he’d agreed. Well, neither could he. He
opened the next door and flipped a switch for lights. The storeroom was small, about
the size of the supply closet at O’Leary’s. Two metal shelving units held beer; a
third held hard liquor. On the opposite wall sat an assortment of things that didn’t
look well used: paper towel rolls, a case of toilet paper, various bottles of cleaners.
The wall to his right had a long, beat-up counter running the length of the space.
On it was a tabletop pizza oven, a microwave, and a coffeemaker.
It dawned on him that the place had no kitchen. It was almost unheard of for a bar
not to have a kitchen. They should see if they could get something going here. Check
the plumbing lines and gas lines to see if they could turn this into a kitchen and
move the inventory to the basement.
He was getting ahead of himself. Elizabeth wanted to make changes to turn a profit.
Neither of them was in this for the long haul. Building a kitchen would be too much.
But if he could sell her on his ideas, the bar would be what he wanted when he bought
it. Using her budget figures, he had an idea of what she’d be looking for when she
was ready to sell. With the twenty-five percent promised in their contract, he could
do this.
His grin spread as excitement rose. He’d be able to get his own bar and it wouldn’t
cost him anywhere near the money or sweat equity
“Awesome.” He scooped up his napkins and balled them up. One by one he shot them into
the trash can behind the bar. He only missed twice.
“Are you done playing now? We have a lot of work to do. I have decorators coming in
to look around and offer bids on fixing this mess. I also have vendors coming in.
Before we can know what to order, I think we need to determine our drink menu.” She
reached into her briefcase and pulled out the legal pad. “Beer will be our biggest
seller, don’t you think? But like you said, this is a neighborhood bar, so I’m thinking
we stick with mostly domestic and a few popular imports. What else?”
“Liquor. No girlie drinks.”
“Well, that ruins my plan for an upscale wine tasting.”
Colin froze and stared at her. She hadn’t moved, but her cheek twitched. He asked,
“Did you just make a joke?”
“Obviously not a very good one.”
He smiled. “It wasn’t bad. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know you could joke.”
Her gaze left her list and met his eyes. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Even in the dim light, her hard stare shot into him. He had to remind himself that
they were on the same side. Something about her made him feel as if they were opponents.
He didn’t know much about her, but he’d like to peel away that guarded layer that
made them rivals. Like when she’d sat at his bar, tipsy on wine.
“I’ll head into the storeroom to do inventory.”
She nodded. “I’ll be in the office going through the mess there. How long do you think
you’ll need? The vendors and decorators will be here around four.”
He looked at the clock and realized that it was broken, so he shrugged. “That should
be fine.”
He headed to the back, looking for a door to the basement like they had at O’Leary’s.
He found it and opened it to a stench worse than death.
“The inventory is in the storeroom. Next door down,” Elizabeth said from behind him.
“What the fuck is that smell?” He pulled his shirt collar up over his nose to block
the odor.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been down there. Smells like a job for you.”
He slammed the door. “You’re not paying me enough to dispose of corpses. Talk to your
decorators.”
“Before I can hire someone to fix it, I need to know what the problem is.”
He turned to look at her. She stood with her arms crossed, waiting for an argument.
“I’ll check it out after I finish with the inventory.”
She stared at him like she couldn’t believe he’d agreed. Well, neither could he. He
opened the next door and flipped a switch for lights. The storeroom was small, about
the size of the supply closet at O’Leary’s. Two metal shelving units held beer; a
third held hard liquor. On the opposite wall sat an assortment of things that didn’t
look well used: paper towel rolls, a case of toilet paper, various bottles of cleaners.
The wall to his right had a long, beat-up counter running the length of the space.
On it was a tabletop pizza oven, a microwave, and a coffeemaker.
It dawned on him that the place had no kitchen. It was almost unheard of for a bar
not to have a kitchen. They should see if they could get something going here. Check
the plumbing lines and gas lines to see if they could turn this into a kitchen and
move the inventory to the basement.
He was getting ahead of himself. Elizabeth wanted to make changes to turn a profit.
Neither of them was in this for the long haul. Building a kitchen would be too much.
But if he could sell her on his ideas, the bar would be what he wanted when he bought
it. Using her budget figures, he had an idea of what she’d be looking for when she
was ready to sell. With the twenty-five percent promised in their contract, he could
do this.
His grin spread as excitement rose. He’d be able to get his own bar and it wouldn’t
cost him anywhere near the money or sweat equity
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