“Harassing the customers again, or just the hot ones?” He swept his approving glance over Daniel as he tied his apron.

Daniel bit back a grin as Annika flushed before him yet again. Even through her silky brown skin, the deep color broke through. Annika folded her arms across her chest and pointedly turned her back on Bobby.

Even so, a wave of jealousy passed over Daniel as he observed the easy familiarity between Annika and Bobby. No. Nothing weird about that. Nothing messed up about sitting in this bar with a drink he wasn’t going to touch, either. This was a mistake. He opened his wallet to pull out some cash. He shouldn’t have come to begin with.

“You want food, since you’re just observing your alcohol?” Her voice had softened a bit.

His stomach growled. He had forgotten to eat. “What’s good?”

“It’s Baltimore.”

“So, something with crab?”

She shrugged, her arms still crossed. “Mrs. P. makes the best cream of crab soup. All those fancy seafood places are no competition.”

“Okay, I’ll have that.”

“Should I bring you a spoon so you can eat it or you going to just stare at it?” Her lips turned into a snarky half smile, which felt like it was just for him. “I mean, you might be a vegetarian who just likes to order crab soup.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Bring the damn spoon.”

She was trying hard to be tough. Not let anyone in. Daniel recognized that for sure.

He couldn’t help watching Annika while he waited for his soup. Her regular customers were fond of her, and the new ones were clearly taken by her warmth. Underneath all that sass, Annika was quick to put on a genuine smile for her customers. It just wasn’t the same one she saved for people close to her. Like Phil, who seemed more like an uncle to her than a boss, the way he held her shoulder and spoke quietly, concern and amusement taking turns on his face.

The bourbon sat steadfast in his periphery. The ice melted, changing the color from a deep golden to a weak yellow. Condensation collected on the glass and dripped down the side.

Not that Daniel noticed.

He imagined the warm liquid sliding down his throat, relaxing his muscles and making him forget. It was dangerous to forget. Mostly because once the alcohol wore off, he was forced to remember. It was remembering that ruined him every time.

He pointedly ignored the weakening amber liquid and focused instead on Annika. He easily recalled how her body had fit perfectly with his when he’d held her. How he was able to give her a modicum of comfort when she had clung to him as if he were a lifesaver and she was drowning. How, in her sorrow, she had needed him, and how he, too, had ended up finding comfort with her in his arms.