Page 5 of The Blacksmith in My Tavern: Tales of Bleakness

Pete raises both brows, and a smirk blooms on his face. “Trust me, the lass does not proposition me like that.”

Damn right, she doesn’t. I would kill him if she did.

Pete chuckles like he can read my thoughts.

Damn, I have got it bad.

Betsy

“He’s a thick-headed male,” I mutter as I join Ada, my new best friend and fellow tavern lass, at the bar, where she is busy loading drinks onto a tray. Many weeks have passed since we met in desperate circumstances, and she has lived and worked in my pa’s tavern ever since. “I would warm his bed for him—I swear I’d make him forget his own name if only he’d let me.”

I would take any scrap he offers.

He offers none.

“Who?” Ada asks, then glances over her shoulder. Her eyes land on Heath before they slide back to me. “You just went out the back with three sailors.”

I wave a dismissive hand and huff out a little breath. “They are practice. Heath is the end game.”

“Has he ever kissed you?” she asks, all innocent. Given that she slips out the back with Heath’s son, Callum, every chance she gets, I’m confident she knows about more than just kissing. Also, a shifter here named Gray cannot take his eyes off the lass. There is a bit of a love triangle simmering in this tavern, although Gray is about as thick-headed as Heath, so Callum likely has no need to worry about the competition.

“Kiss me? He’s not as much as patted my ass. I think I might spontaneously climax if he put his hands on me anywhere.”

She giggles at my nonsense. Her life was once dark and unhappy, so I love coaxing a smile from her.

“Maybe he thinks you’re joking.” She shrugs. “You know, flirting like you do with other patrons?”

“Huff! I never say the things I say to Heath to anyone else.”

Our conversation is cut off as Callum squeezes through the throngs and snags Ada’s hand. “Mind if I borrow the lass for a bit,” he says gruffly.

“Callum—” she starts, blushing furiously. “We are very busy.”

Callum, cursed or blessed to be a redhead, depending on your view, likewise blushes.

“Go on out the back for a bit,” I say, grinning. Who am I to get in the way of true love? “I will cover for you.” I wink. “And keep an eye on your pa, Callum, just in case any shameless hussies come around.”

Callum chuckles.

Ada bites her lips to keep from grinning and tugs on Callum’s hand.

I collect the tray of drinks she was stacking and begin weaving through the crowd.

By shameless hussies, I mean me. I am shameless. Not that it does me any good where Heath is concerned. My words and fool dreams are sheer folly on my part.

Only my heart tells me Heath is worth fighting for. Heath, our local blacksmith, with his big, capable hands, broad shoulders, and acres of muscles that I dream of petting and peppering with kisses.

It is not boastful on my part to say I have skills when it comes to a tryst. If only I could get him alone.

No mind. I’m cursed to be stubborn about getting what I want, even though he has rebuffed my every advance.

At least those words leave his lips, using a stern voice ripe with censure. His eyes tell me another story, for they brim with lust. Oh, he tries to hide it, but I see through it. I’m a tavern wench, after all, and we are used to the perusal of men. I see beyond his words to the man underneath.

He likes to think he’s different, but he is not. He is a man with needs that I could gladly, joyfully, and with love meet.

Only, I am nothing but a tavern wench in his eyes, too young, too bold, and too forward for his tastes. A free spirit, I have enjoyed the pleasures of many men and see no harm in it. They come and go, and we share fleeting moments where we can forget about the dour life living in Bleakness.

It reminds me that my life and pleasure are my own. I won’t let this desperate place nor events past take that away from me.

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