Page 19 of Riding Dirty for Christmas

The door bursts open, and Hawk and his MC brothers swagger in, bringing cold air and leather-jacket attitude with them.

Unlike the weekend tourists who sometimes pass through, these guys know how to wear those cuts they're sporting.

“Jack!” Hawk bellows. “Line 'em up!” His eyes catch on Eden, assessing. Not threatening, just careful. The way he looks at everything in his territory.

“They're good guys,” I murmur, noting how Eden's shoulders stay tight. “Run a youth mentoring program, believe it or not. Hawk here keeps the town council from pushing through that casino development they've been drooling over.”

“And Jack keeps us from burning the council building down when they piss us off,” Hawk adds, settling onto his usual stool. His leather creaks as he leans forward. “So, new blood behind Jack's sacred bar? Must be special.”

“Let me guess—” Eden's voice carries that edge she gets when she's pushing past discomfort. “Straight whiskey, no frills?”

Hawk's weathered face breaks into a grin. “Something tells me you've got a better idea.”

Eden rolls her eyes in my direction. “Jack, your regulars deserve better than well liquor and flat beer.”

The guys burst out laughing. Snake, Hawk's right hand, raises his glass. “I like her. She's got more bite than your usual hires.”

“You should've seen her earlier,” I say. “Created some fancy French thing that had everyone ordering cocktails.”

Eden pops a hand on her hip. “You boys brave enough to try something besides whiskey?”

“That a challenge?” Hawk's eyebrows shoot up.

“Only if you're scared of real flavor.”

The guys hoot and lean forward, drawn in by her confidence. Eden starts pulling bottles with practiced grace. I concentrate on restocking glasses, pretending not to notice how naturally she handles them.

Eden slides him her latest creation. “Try this.”

Hawk takes a sip, his eyes widening. “Damn, brother. Where'd you find this one?”

“She found me.” I grab whiskey for the rest of the crew, trying not to think about how true that is. “Though I'm starting to wonder if that's a good thing.”

Eden slides him her latest creation, something amber and smoky that makes Hawk's eyebrows shoot up at first sip.

“Damn, brother.” Hawk looks between us.

“Jack's mad because I'm showing him up.” Eden winks, but there's something softer in her voice now.

“That right?” Hawk watches us work together, his eyes missing nothing. The way Eden and I move around each other like we've been doing this for years. How I automatically reach for the garnish she needs before she asks.

“About time someone challenged him. Boy's too set in his ways. But he saved our asses when the clubhouse roof collapsed one winter a few years ago,” Hawk says, watching Eden's reaction.

Eden pauses mid-pour, her eyes finding mine in the bar mirror. “Jack helped rebuild it?”

Something shifts in her expression – recognition maybe, or understanding. Something that makes my chest tight.

“Spent weeks getting everything perfect before starting the renovations here. Boy's got magic hands with broken things.” Hawk drains his glass. “Don't let the rough edges fool you. Man's got a good heart. Just needs someone?—”

The crash of breaking glass snaps all our heads toward the pool tables. Some drunk asshole is squaring up to John, my weekend bouncer.

Eden tenses beside me, and my body moves on instinct, angling to shield her.

“Stay here,” I growl, already moving toward the commotion.

“Like hell,” she mutters, following right behind me.

The drunk whips around as I approach, pool cue still gripped in his fist. Dean something - a long-haul trucker who's been causing trouble up and down the I-80.

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