Promise Me (Asher Family #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

HUDSON

The lights buzz as I flip the switch by the employee entrance.

I sigh at the noise and make my way inside. I take a giant bite out of my donut and sip my coffee.

Three years ago, I would have balked at the idea of coffee and a donut for breakfast—especially before my morning workout. Nope, back then, I would have walked through my oversized house and opened a fridge packed with premade meals by the highest-paid nutritionist. I would have slid open my back door to sit beside a pool I never used. Then, as soon as my trainer showed up, we would hit the gym I had turned my pool house into.

The last place I’d go to is to a bar—unless it was to celebrate a win.

Today, though, it’s just after 6:00 a.m., and I’m the first one here.

To be fair, I am the one who owns said bar.

Hudson’s.

I know. Original. It took me months to come up with it.

But really, I was just tired of not having a goal, of not knowing what was next in my life. So I bought this place, moved back to Lovers, and turned it into a bar.

I step behind the bar top. There’s only one opening for the bar top, which is almost a full square in the middle of the room. The liquor bottles and taps are in the middle of the bar top, making them easy to see only while we are working.

“I knew you’d be here this early,” Linc, my best friend since fifth grade, says as he walks in through the back of the building.

“That door is for employees only,” I remind him. My tone isn’t serious, but I swear, this guy acts as if he’s the one who owns this place instead of me.

“Add me to your payroll.”

“As what?”

“Walking advertisement?”

I chuckle, grabbing my clipboard to note what needs to be restocked in the front before we open for lunch at eleven.

The closing crew is supposed to do this at night, but since I was one of them and my leg was flaring up, I sent them all home and told them I’d do this in the morning. Then I popped three Advil and went upstairs to my apartment to relax.

Now that it’s morning and I’m tired as hell, I wish I would’ve sucked it up last night.

“Are you really going to work right now?” Linc asks.

“The perks of owning your own business,” I say sarcastically. He should try it sometime.

Linc grabs a towel nearby and snaps it at me.

“Don’t give me that look right now. Working for my dad is going just fine.”

I nod, counting the seltzers in fridge one.

“Really. He loves working with me.”

I nod again.

“I’m serious. He hasn’t mentioned me buying him out once in the last six months. He likes the dynamic we have together. ”

“Or he gave up that you’d ever want to take over.”

Linc shrugs. “I just don’t see myself selling real estate my entire life.”

“Have you told him that?”

He taps his knuckles to the bar tap and groans.

“Enough talk about me. Why didn’t the closing crew do this last night? You do realize this cuts into our workout. Which, at the rate you’re moving, is looking pretty nonexistent today. Is your leg bothering you again?”

“I’m fine.”

Silence settles between us as I work, fully aware that he’s watching me.

I know exactly what he wants to say. I can practically see how he bites his cheek to hold back his comment.

It’s normal to have a flare-up.

Did you stretch it out?

How much water have you had?

You should stop working on your feet all day, every day, and relax.

Maybe you should ? —

“Do you want some help?” Linc asks, cutting into my thoughts.

I chuckle. “Are you still trying to get on my payroll?”

“No, I’m trying to get my workout in so I can get to work, so the sooner you finish up here, the sooner I can do that.”

I laugh, grabbing the other clipboard and handing it to him.

“So eager to get to the job you love .”

“You’re one to talk. Need I remind you it’s only 6:30? If anyone loves their job, it’s you.”

He gets to work counting bottles in fridge two, but I watch him for a moment, lost in thought.

The only job I’ve ever loved was taken from me in just seconds with a blade to the back of my knee .

I went from being the highest-paid hockey player in the country to the guy who moved back to his small town and opened a bar.

I’m the biggest fucking cliché there is.

And I sure hell don’t love anything about that.

My office officially smells like a bottle of Icy Hot exploded.

I change out of my workout clothes and into jeans and a black T-shirt before heading to the front of the bar. The lunch hour started an hour ago. My employees don’t need me, but I like to be around. I grew up in this town, and even though I’m not thrilled to be back under these circumstances, I still love this place and most of the people who live here.

I hobble my way to the entrance, waving hello to my childhood neighbors and the local pharmacist sitting behind them.

The regulars love routine like it’s a drug. Nothing will take it from them—not the busy tourist season and sure as hell not a packed house on the Fourth of July, where the wait is more than an hour.

I step out front of the building and find Betty, my bar manager, finishing the chalkboard sign.

“How does it look?” she asks. She stands back in army green shorts and a black shirt similar to mine and places her hands on her hips. “Too many flowers?”

I examine the sign, grinning at her impeccable artwork.

“Someone is going to see your talent one day and steal you away from me.”

She snorts. “Don’t worry, Hudson, I’m not leaving.”

I open my mouth to say more because I’m not sure she knows how talented she is, but a flash of yellow moving across the street stops me .

Why is Linc back, and why does he have a for sale sign clutched under his arm?

“The sign looks great, Betty. I’ll be right back.”

Linc moves closer, his focus on the store next to me.

“No way,” I whisper out loud to no one.

Did Mrs. Whittaker finally decide to sell her store?

That old woman swore she’d die in that place.

“Linc!” I call out. He glances at me and grins.

“Linc!” a much higher, yet sweeter, voice calls out at the same time.

In seconds, Linc is standing in front of the storefront that separates my bar from Sadie’s bakery. That same spot also put him right between me and his little sister, who glares at me as if my presence has ruined her day.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“I’m ready to make an offer,” I say at the same time.

“No. That’s not how that works,” Sadie scolds me and crosses her arms.

“How what works?” I snap. “It looks like Mrs. Whittaker is selling, and I want to buy it, so making an offer is exactly how it works.”

Sadie rolls her eyes before sliding her gaze to her brother.

Linc is 100 percent pretending that neither Sadie nor I are standing next to him.

To his credit, most of the town behaves this way when she and I are near one another.

The woman hates me, and fuck all if I know why.

Growing up, I was at her house just as much as I was at my own. Her mom was a second mother to me. We had movie nights, pet funerals, broken limbs, countless birthday parties among Sadie, Linc, me, my two brothers and little sister, and more. I was even there when she learned to drive. But somewhere in all that time, she decided she was going to hate me for the rest of our lives.

Maybe it was because I dated her best friend in high school.

“I’m simply putting the sign up in the window. That’s all,” Linc says, unlocking the door.

Sadie and I both move to follow him, but he steps back and shoves us out.

“Neither of you are invited inside.”

“You don’t need to put up a sign. I’ll take it,” I say again, this time in a tone I hope conveys my point.

“No. I’m taking it.” Sadie steps in front of me. She’s facing her brother, but her petite five-foot-five form is nothing compared to my six feet. I can see over the top of her head and am staring right at her brother.

“I’m your sister,” she says sweetly.

I chuckle. “The bank doesn’t care about family.”

She spins so quickly that her golden blonde hair whips me in the neck.

“I’m sorry we can’t all have bank accounts like you, Mr. Rich Retired Hockey Player, but some of us have dreams, okay? And mine includes this storefront.”

Her arm juts out to point at the empty space.

“For what? The dry-ass donuts you make or the subpar lemon bars I have to choke down with a beer?”

She gasps, stomps her foot, and then growls.

I would laugh if I didn’t think she was ten seconds away from slapping me.

“I’m buying this space, so just back off,” she warns me.

“Not a chance.”

“Linc!” she yells, but he’s gone.

I glance to where his car had been parked, but it’s gone too.

Well, fuck. When did he leave?

Sadie tosses her hands up and marches back to her bakery .

I do the same but toward the bar and with a lot less fire.

As soon as I step into Hudson’s, I notice all the spring tourists filling the space. We are going to be on another wait soon.

Yeah, Sadie Collins isn’t going to be buying the storefront next door.

I am.