Page 24 of Warlander Grizzly

“Does anyone from Damon’s Mountains ever come in here?” he asked.

“Why would they? There are closer bars to the trailer parks. They don’t want to travel a couple hours to get a drink.”

“Not when they have a cooler of beer in front of most trailers,” Landon agreed.

“Who keeps coolers of beer on their porches?”

“Me. My brothers. My dad. Most of the Boarlanders. Everyone in the Ashe Crew. Does anyone from the mountains even know you work here?”

She shook her head slowly and set the drinks she’d made up on the counter, then made her way to the computer to enter the drinks and put in two orders of chicken-fried steak dinners. “I get a fifty-percent-off discount,” she said over her shoulder.

“Woman, are you trying to give me another boner? Because it’s working.”

She giggled as quietly as she could, but her shoulders were probably shaking with her laughter.

“Double mashed potatoes?” she asked.

Landon didn’t answer, so she twisted to see if he’d heard her. He was just staring at her with his chin resting low and a wicked glint in his eyes. One waggle of his blond eyebrows, and she couldn’t look at him anymore. Not without smiling.

Okay, note to self: skimpy dresses, cheap whiskey, and double mashed potatoes will get that man revved up. Easy enough. Not that she wanted to get him, or any man, revved up. Ever.

“You know,” he said as she came around the counter to sit in the chair beside him. “If you tell your Crew you work here, they would come hang out on some of your shifts.”

“Why would I want them to do that?”

The smile on his lips faltered, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s what Crews like to do.”

He didn’t currently have a Crew though. He’d grown up in one, sure, but he never pledged to the Boarlanders when he’d come of age. He’d lived outside of Crew dynamics for years. “How would you know what Crews like to do?”

She hadn’t meant for the question to be mean, but clearly it had come out like that, because he stole his gaze away from her and took a sip of the drink, then rested his elbows on the counter and changed the subject. “Are you the employee of the month in those pictures or something?”

She was confused. His voice had cooled, and his body had gone tense. He seemed…upset.

“I said something wrong.”

“Chhh,” he muttered. “I’m not fragile. Say whatever you want.”

There was something there…something about her Crew question.

She shouldn’t ask, because now was not the time or the place. Tonight was supposed to be relaxed and fun.

“The pictures are for every time I set a record month for the bar.” She took a sip of her lemon drop, and then asked, “Do you want to play pool with me while we wait on the food?” She was going to do for him what he’d been doing for her all night—give him an out, and redirect.

“Depends,” he asked. “Do you suck at pool?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

“Then yes, I would love to play you. Let’s make a bet.”

“I don’t think your mother would approve of you winning money off me when you know I’m not good at pool.”

“Well, don’t lose,” he deadpanned as he led her to the trio of pool tables. Two were occupied, but the one in the far corner was open.

Smooth as anything, Landon put quarters in it and grabbed the triangle to rack the billiard balls. He seemed to know what he was doing with that, so she went and grabbed a pool stick for them to share, as well as a cube of chalk, but not because she knew what to do with it. She’d seen other people use chalk during the slow hours when she’d watched people play pool.

“You can break,” he told her.

“Um, I’m not going to be great—”

---