Page 15 of Montana's Bravest

I’m assuming Mark is going to answer. Instead he softly kicks my foot.

“Um… sorry?” I say innocently.

“What would you like to drink?” the waitress repeats with a smile.

I leave my internal debate for another time, concluding that the woman I’ve been infatuated with is probably, regrettably, off the market.

“If you’re not sure, may I suggest Fallen Angel?” the waitress offers. “It’s a new brand that we’re trialing. If you like bitter and crisp ale, you should try it.”

Mark nods. “Two Fallen Angels, then.”

I’m tempted to ask the waitress the name of my own fallen angel, but convincing myself that I should keep my dignity intact, I simply smile, thanking her.

The band is playing their third or fourth song. Still, I can’t erase the goosebumps peppering the back of my neck, nor can I ease the abnormal heart rate wreaking havoc inside my ribcage.

Mark’s eyes roam the bar. “Feels right here,” he muses.

“Good feng shui?” I rib him.

Mark was a green beret who has been awarded three Silver Star medals. He’s logical and meticulous, and never superstitious. He may have a baby face, but he means business. I know he asked me to meet in downtown Helena for a reason.

He chuckles. “Maximus picked it.”

“Huh.” I glance at my dog. He’s asleep at my feet.

“Plus, it’s like a sister to Red Mark’s fox,” my partner quips.

Red Mark’s logo is a fox. We chose it because the fox is a resilient and resourceful animal with sharp tracking instinct. Besides, they’re one of the most protective in the canine family.

“A new local?” I play along, even though the gears are turning in Mark’s head about something bigger. “But our office is thirty-five miles away from here.”

He takes a swig of the Fallen Angel. “Whoa, this beer is something else!”

I taste the ale—hell yeah, this has become my favorite already.

Mark observes the crowd, as if imagining himself being part of the action every Friday afternoon after work. Not that what we do is a Monday-to-Friday thing, but I think he’s visualizing our futures here, in this city.

“So, out with it. What’s on your mind?” I prod.

“You know, we’re doing pretty well—on our way to settling up with the investors, and we’ve built up some solid cred. Plus, the pipeline’s shaping up nicely. But the office? The location isn’texactly convenient, is it? And facilities are limited,” he argues. “We’re here to serve, right? We’ve gotta make it easier for people to reach us.”

“Well, most of our clients have our private numbers,” I reason.

“Yeah, but?—”

“You’re eyeing Ivy,” I tease, knowing Ivy Forbes’ office is just blocks away.

Mark kicks my foot hard this time. “That’s the shittiest thing you’ve said all day!” he complains.

I laugh, catching the tail end of his reaction before our attention is stolen by her arrival.

“Why is she here?” he murmurs.

“Even the universe agrees with me. It’s a sign,” I insist. “Look, her marriage is on the rocks, there’s nothing wrong with making a move.”

“Stop it, Sam. I mean it. No more,” Mark gripes—but at the same time he keeps glancing at Ivy, who doesn’t seem to notice us.

“Just admit it, man.”

---