My Stepbrother Banned My Fish Fry, So I Made Him Beg novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Karl's POV

Karl's POV

I closed out the register at eleven-forty on Friday and took my time doing it, because I knew she was upstairs.

The tavern was quiet.

The last bowler had left at eleven, singing.

My father had gone home at ten with his knee wrapped and his phone in his hand.

I wiped down the bar with the towel from my shoulder.

I balanced the till.

The specials board on the wall behind me was blank.

I had wiped it myself four Fridays ago, and I had not been able to write on it since.

I turned off the beer signs and climbed the back stairs.

The flat was dark except for a line of light under my bedroom door.

I had not asked her to be in there.

I had not asked her to stay out either.

In three weeks I had learned that Basia Wrobel did not wait to be asked.

I opened the door.

She sat up against my headboard in my gray T-shirt, with her braid over one shoulder and her knees drawn up.

She had a library book open on her thighs.

She looked up at me and smiled slowly.

"You took forever," she said.

"I was counting."

"What did you count?" she asked.

"The till. Twice."

"Hartmann," she said, "come here."

I shut the door.

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