Page 4 of Wild Card

He frowns so hard, his forehead wrinkles.

“You could sit here and drink a beer with me.” His face breaks out into a dazzling smile. “Have some dinner and chat.”

My stomach wobbles, and I get a little too distracted by the set of deep dimples that appear in his cheeks.

Holy crap.

Those things are dangerous.

“I appreciate it,” I say, but I’m more focused on appreciating his strong jaw.

Dear God, he’s got a beautiful set of straight white teeth.

His parents must have opted for braces.

Mine never had that kind of money, and to this day, I’m overly sensitive about the fact two of my bottom teeth overlap slightly from where my wisdom teeth grew in.

I shake my head, trying to get back on track. “I was kind of hoping to dance.”

“I’m an excellent dancer…” He studies my face and finally sighs. “Yeah, there’s one place. Just let me call you a cab. You won’t have any luck around here with ride shares.”

I give him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Rush.”

“And let me give you my cell number,” he says so smoothly, my head tilts. “There’s only one cab company, and they don’t do pickups after eleven in the offseason.”

My eyes widen.

Holy crap.

This really is a small town.

Chapter Three

Bear

The bar is packed, and the dance floor is thickly lined with bodies. The majority are from the docks and the fishing boats. The rest are from the businesses necessary to keep the bustling fishing industry moving in town. Our population quadruples after winter, but for now, it’s back to familiar faces.

It’s Friday night, and everyone is looking to blow off steam.

I drop the bottles in front of the guy at the bar and snatch up the money, tossing it in the cash register.

Shit.

Jacky is going to have my ass when she counts out the drawer at closing. I keep forgetting to check for tips and separate them out.

My bar manager is around here somewhere. She’s splitting her time behind the bar and at the tables because we’re so short-staffed, it’s ridiculous.

“Hey, Bear,” Jacky calls out, sliding through the crowd with her hand held out. I frown, spotting the landline phone in her outstretched hand. “It’s Rush. He says it’s an emergency.”

Goddammit.

No matter how short-staffed he is over at the bed-and-breakfast, he can’t have any of my employees.

I don’t have any to spare.

Rush and I might be fraternal twins, but I’m four minutes older. Not that it really matters in the grand scheme of things, but it counts—I’m the oldest.

“What?” I growl, shoving my office door closed with my boot.

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