The Lies She Told (Carly Moore #5) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,1

of the five weekday lunch shifts, and our new part-time waitress, Trixie, filled in where needed, so Ruth and I got at least one day off a week.

Marco was right. I worked a lot, but that wasn’t the only thing preventing me from having a life. It wasn’t easy making connections when you lived under an alias, and the only people I knew outside of work were Hank and Marco. So I didn’t much mind working.

I parked my car in the back lot and got out, but as I walked toward the door, I felt eyes on my back. Stopping, I looked around and spotted a figure darting around the corner of the building toward Main Street. They moved too fast for me to get more than a glimpse. All I saw was the edge of a dark sleeve and jeans. Then they were gone.

Good grief, I was acting paranoid. Then again I had a right to be. I may have only been in Drum for seven months, but I’d made a few powerful enemies.

When I walked in through the back door, Max was waiting in the hallway that led to the kitchen, his office, and the front dining room. He was smiling from ear to ear, looking like he was about to bust.

“It’s your lucky day, Carly Moore,” he said, turning his back to me and heading into his office. “Come on.”

I followed him, surprised to see a big box on his desk.

He rested his hand on top of it, and his hazel eyes lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “You know how you and Ruth were complainin’ about feelin’ like you wear the same shirt every day?”

“Yeah,” I said. It was true, we both worked five or six days a week, and each day we wore the same black T-shirt with Max’s logo on the front.

“I got you new ones.” He opened the box flaps and pulled out a bright pink T-shirt with a new Max’s logo full of swirls and flourishes. It looked like someone who’d taken a calligraphy class had written the tavern’s name with their mediocre new skill, then transferred it into an app.

“Um, has Ruth seen these?”

“Nope,” he said with a smug grin. “You’re the first. Lucky you.”

Lucky me indeed. “Who designed that new logo?” I asked, pointing at it.

“Bruce Bobbit. He took a graphic design course at the community college down at Greeneville.”

That wasn’t saying much. Anyone could sign up for a course, but not everyone had talent. “How much did he charge for that monstrosity?”

“Never you mind about that,” Max said. “I’ve got that part taken care of. What do you think?”

Since he was dodging the question, he’d probably spent a lot. “I think the fact that I just called it a monstrosity should tell you something,” I said in a dry tone.

“Well, now don’t have a bad attitude,” Max groused. “I know some people can’t handle change.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered, keeping my eyes downcast.

A year ago, I had been Caroline Blakely, daughter of the owner and CEO of Blakely Oil, third-grade teacher at an elite private school, and engaged to be married to my best friend since high school, Jake Wood. Now I was living under the alias of Charlene Moore, aka Carly, working at a hole-in-the-wall tavern and living with a sixty-something man who used to be the biggest pot dealer in eastern Tennessee. All told, I’d say I handled change pretty well.

But I couldn’t tell Max any of that, and he had a bigger problem on his hands. Like the fact that Ruth was going to lose her shit the moment she saw what he expected us to wear. “And you’re sure you didn’t clear this with Ruth?”

Max gave me a look of disgust. “I don’t have to clear everything with Ruth. I have a mind of my own.”

“Yeah, well you may have a mind,” I said, shaking my head, “but we both know that she has the final say.”

“I’m the owner of Max’s Tavern,” he said, his back straightening. “My name is on the building, and on the menus, and on the lease.”

“You don’t have a lease for this building,” I countered. “You own it outright. Your daddy gave it to you.”

His eyes darkened. “That may be true, but this place is mine, and you two girls best remember that.” He tried to sound gruff, but Max was incapable of being gruff and rude unless someone was threatening his staff or he was drunk. In those situations,