Page 89 of The Thief

“You are driving the customers wild,” Mercy announced in the doorway. “What’s going on in here?”

Bear smiled at her as she entered the room and leaned against the kitchen island.

When Mercy saw the racks filled with warm rolls, her eyes rounded. “There’s nothing I love more than a big cinnamon roll. Gimme a bite.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bear took one of the warm rolls glazed in icing and held it to her pink lips. He leaned on the island to get closer to her height.

Mercy unabashedly bit into his sweet pastry, the gooey icing coating her top lip. Her tongue swiped at the glaze and crumbs.

“Well?” he asked.

“Mmm” was all she uttered, her eyes closing.

Bear leaned over and kissed the glaze off her mouth. She kissed him back, and despite the clamor of customers and music, the only thing he heard was the sharp and sticky sound of their lips touching.

Mercy wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. The amorous feelings funneled into a stronger one that made him want to fight to the death for her. He wanted to make her a picnic by the stream and do a little fishing. He wanted to drive her to Austin and buy her a pretty dress. So many ideas flooded his mind, but for now he was grateful for this job. It gave them more time alone, more stolen moments like these.

When Mercy finished her pastry, she helped him dole out cinnamon rolls to the customers, free of charge. Calvin didn’t like that too much, but once he tasted the offering, he kept his mouth shut. Mercy announced it was a sample of what was to come, and it created a buzz. They begged for more, but Bear had work to do, which included planning his opening-day menu.

When it grew late, he hung his new apron on a hook and turned off the kitchen lights.

After scanning the bar, he asked Calvin, “Where’s Mercy?”

“She left an hour ago. Couldn’t wait for your ass.” Calvin pointed toward the pool tables. “Take your friend with you. His buddies left earlier, and he’s not fit to drive.”

Bear looked over at Archer, who had pinned a blonde against a pool table so he could whisper something in her ear. His right hand cupped her neck, his knee between her legs. It looked like they were in the middle of a game until she found other balls to play with.

Bear strode over. “Where’s Krys?”

Archer skimmed his fingers down the woman’s arm, eyes possessively watching the pretty woman. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

She stroked the close shave of his undercut, her fingernails cherry red.

Bear noticed the shot glasses lined up on the edge of the table. “Wasn’t Krys the designated driver?”

“Krys was being a downer. He told me to get a ride home with you.”

“I’m leaving. Say goodbye to your friend.”

The woman stroked her finger across Archer’s chest. “Yeah. Say goodbye to your friend.”

“Last chance,” Bear said, “or you’re walking home.”

Archer lifted the woman’s chin with the crook of his finger. “To be continued.”

She clutched his left shoulder. “Let me see it before you go.”

Archer reeled back, and his expression turned as cold as ice. “Gotta run.”

“Oh, come on,” she said in a honeyed voice. “Please? I’ve been a good girl all night. I want to see what it looks like.”

Archer finished his shot and turned away. When the woman gripped his empty jacket sleeve, it pulled the jacket from his shoulder. Archer pivoted and jerked it free.

“Where’s Virgil?” he asked, casually switching topics as they crossed the room.

Bear did one last check. “If he’s not here, he must have left with Krys.”

“Those two aren’t happy about the Mercy situation.”

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