Page 64 of Lucky's Trouble

Hearing my footsteps, he looks up and smiles big and warm. “You must be Tinleigh.”

News travels fast around here.

I stop, tucking my hands in my jeans pockets. “I am.”

He takes me in long enough to make me feel uncomfortable, but when he realizes what he’s doing, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just intrigued by the woman who caught Lucky’s eye.”

“Oh. Right.” I lift a hand. “That’s me.”

“Are you busy? I’d love it if you could join me.” He stands and motions to the stool next to his.

I hesitate, not having the best track record with religious figures. They make me uncomfortable.

He holds out a hand. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Judge. I’m the club’s, well, I guess you could say I’m their conscience.”

I reluctantly shake his hand and, not seeing a way out of it, sit down. “That must be a big job.”

“Not as big as you’d think,” he says through a chuckle. “The Sons are good men. Mostly, anyway. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

He walks around to the other side of the bar and pours a steaming cup before setting a bowl of creamer and sugar packets in front of me. I pretend to busy myself with doctoring the coffee, but really, I’m studying him as he walks back to the stool. He’s older than Lucky, maybe in his forties. He’s handsome in a put-together way, with styled brown hair that’s longer on top and shaved at the sides. His facial hair is kept short and trim, and he has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“I won’t pretend I haven’t heard some about you. Bones and I are close friends.” He settles back in his seat.

I nearly choke on my coffee, thinking this man knows all my dirty secrets. Swallowing hard, I look at him expectantly.

“Nothing personal,” he says, reading me. “Bones wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Just the basics. You’re the twin sister of one of the Honey Pot women, and Lucky stepped in to get you out of some trouble. That’s all I know.”

“That pretty much sums it all up.”

“I’ll bet there’s more, but I can tell I make you nervous, so I won’t pry.”

“I’m not nervous,” I say in a way that confirms I am, indeed, nervous.

He just smiles, not calling me on my bullshit. “Either way, I just wanted to welcome you. From what I understand, you might be around a while.”

“Maybe. Still working some things out.”

“If you ever need help doing that, people tell me I’m a good listener.”

“Are you a pastor?” I ask.

“Not in the sense that I have a church or congregation.” His expression goes slack as he quietly adds, “Not anymore.”

“Maybe I’m the one who shouldn’t pry.”

“No, you’re fine.” His posture straightens. “I don’t know one person who hasn’t been through some shit, me included.”

With that, I decide he’s all right. He obviously believes in God if he acts as some sort of spiritual leader to the club, but he curses, which, for some reason, puts me at ease.

“Cheers to that.” I hold up my coffee mug and clink it against his, bringing back his smile.

“I like you, Tinleigh.”

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