Page 44 of Another Last Call
She helped me wipe down the bar and the stool we’d fucked on, then pitched in to help put the last coat of paint on the wall. With the two of us working on it, it didn’t take long to complete.
“So if I’m part owner, does that mean I can help myself to some of the beer that’s in the fridge back there?” I asked as we finished painting.
Maggie laughed. “Just don’t drink us into bankruptcy. Go grab one. I’ll clean up the trays.”
I grabbed a bottle for each of us and popped them open. Maggie was bent over when I returned, closing the lid on the gallon of paint. The hem of her t-shirt dress was tantalizingly close to the curve of her ass, showing off the creamy expanse of the back of her thighs. And God, that view was… I tried not to stare, but it was a losing battle. How she could look that good in a dress that looked like she’d bought it around the last time I’d been in Marble Beach was beyond me, but she did.
She looked fucking phenomenal.
“Have a beer with me? We should be the first to have a drink at the bar,” I said.
She joined me, sliding back onto the barstool I’d fucked her on. “We’re going to have to move all the stools around so I can’t tell which is which, otherwise I’ll never be able to keep a straight face when someone sits here.”
We drank quietly for a moment, the air thick with the smell of paint.
“I want to help, Maggie,” I said suddenly. “I want The Sea Glass to do well.”
“I know.” She sighed, picking at the corner of the label on her bottle. “I just don’t want it to lose what makes it what it is, you know? It’s a part of Marble Beach. And a part of my family.”
“I know. And that’s why I refused to buy it outright. I can’t make this place successful on my own. It needs you.”
She nodded, not looking at me.
“But I have some thoughts, too. I don’t mean to brag, but I did go to business school. I’m not just pulling ideas out of my ass. I’m doing this because IwantThe Sea Glass to succeed.”
“Tell me your ideas,” she said.
It was the best impromptu business meeting we could have had. Both of us were calm and, dare I even say it, excited as we worked together. Somehow, a few hours went by, and we each had a second bottle of beer in front of us as we looked at the papers we’d spread across the bar while planning out the next year of our business.
Ourbusiness.
We both agreed that we wanted to keep ourselves focused on the locals, but not unattractive to tourists. She immediately squashed my idea of a loyalty card for Marble Beach residents, but countered with the idea to send out coupons to local addresses to bring people from the community in.
“And we should figure out something for larger groups,” she said.
“Of locals?”
“Of anyone.” She flipped through a few pages she’d dug out of the office. “We’re one of the only places open late in town and there are a lot of, you know, bachelor parties and stuff that rent out cabins or campsites nearby.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Or like, family reunions and stuff. We get people coming in on occasion, but we’ve never had the right setup for big groups. But with the stage and maybe some planning…”
I glanced up at the high ceiling of the dining room, then at the wall that closed off Maggie’s apartment from the restaurant.
“One day, I’d love to renovate the upstairs,” I said.
“The apartment?”
“Yeah, but turn it into part of the bar.” I motioned upwards. “We could just take out the wall that has your dining table on it and make a railing or something there, move the cutlery stand and add a doorway in the back wall that leads to the staircase, and bam. Upstairs seating area. Perfect for large groups.”
“One problem,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I’d have nowhere to live.”
I chuckled. “It’s a pipe dream. You know it would look cool.”
