Page 1 of Hank

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"And then,"Jo Webster shouted. It was the only way to be heard over the pounding, contemporary, country music, and the laughing, talking crowd. For a Sunday night, Laverty’s was really hopping. "ThisDr.Henry Lawton responded with,it was the only fair thing." She had no idea what the man sounded like, but the haughty air she’d used seemed to add the right touch. "Can you believe that?"

She signaled Jake for another round, and he nodded. With the number of people vying for his attention, she was lucky the youngest of the Laverty triplets had noticed her. The bar was so crowded, in fact, it was a miracle she and her three friends, Magdalena Bateman, Faith Martin, and Colleen Jackson, had been able to snag four seats along the corner of the bar.

Seconds later, another shot of Patrón landed in front of her. So, she licked the salt she'd already dashed onto the back of her hand, then grabbed the glass and slammed the tequila back. Wincing at the burn, she swallowed hard.

"Fair, my ass," she choked out on a wheeze, then quickly grabbed a lime wedge from the bowl in front of her and sucked on it.

"Jake," Magdalena called from her seat opposite of Jo’s. "Another tonic and lime for me, and maybe a ginger ale for Jo here."

Jo grimaced at a grinning Jake’s, "Sure thing," before leveling—at least as best she could—her irritated gaze on Mags.

"Ginger ale? I don’t need a ginger ale. I’ve only had…" Jo lifted her hand, focusing on it while she worked her fingers, then shoved them out at her friend. "Three."

"Right," Colleen hollered, chuckling from her place next to Magdalena. "But you’re only holding up two fingers."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Faith said, nudging her left shoulder.

Jo brought her fingers right up to her face until they almost touched her nose and squinted.

"Oh. Well, it?—"

"Excuse me." The loud male voice accompanied a tap, tap, tap on one shoulder, while on her other side a hard arm brushed against her, with a different, deeper voice saying, "Sorry."

"Modelo, please," the second guy called out before sitting on the stool next to hers. Jo barely spared a glance at Modelo guy. She was too busy rolling her eyes at her friends. But who knew, maybe the tapper thought she was someone he knew. It wouldn’t hurt to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes?" she said, loud enough he would hear her above the music, while plastering a smile on her face and spinning around on her stool—maybe a littletoofast. She brought him into focus in time for him to shout into her face…

"Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?”

So, no. He hadn’t mistaken her from someone he knew. Snickers sounded from one side, while Modelo guy groaned on the other, saying, "Oh, come on, man."

She glanced over her shoulder at her three friends, who from their faces obviously thought this was hilarious, before she gave thenotunattractive, but way too young for her, man in front of her another smile. Too bad Mr. Suave had lost points for the stupid pick-up line. Otherwise, she might have agreed to at least a dance or two.

Magdalena’s younger man certainly had worked out for her. Lucky bitch. Of course, bitch being thought of in the most loving of ways. So, who knew, maybe lightning would strike her too.

But not with this one.

"Perhaps," she replied looking him up and down while leaning back and resting her forearms on the back of her barstool. She didn’t have a lot by way of front-end assets, but he didn’t seem to mind. "It depends. Are you into…" She gave him another grin. "Threesomes?" Having to get that out over the music and people, all while trying to sound breathy and sexy wasn’t easy.

But she was pretty sure she’d pulled it off when the leather-jacketed Mr. Modelo sat up straight in her peripheral vision. Then she was certain when Mr. Suave’s cocky grin morphed into an even cockier smile.

Yep, nailed it.

"Well," he said, while a hint of speculation—and a lot of lust—filled his gaze traveling toward her friends. Which of them was he contemplating? Her bet was on Magdalena or Faith. Their boobs were bigger. "Yeah, sure."

"Excellent." Jo gave her bottom lip a little bite just for good measure, while she spied Mr. Modelo lifting his bottle to his mouth. "Butcher is always looking for some, uh…" To bring it home, she slowly ran her tongue over her top lip. "Fresh meat."

"Uh, Butcher?"

Beside her, Mr. Modelo coughed—and maybe even choked a little—before loudly gasping out, "Napkin."

"Yeah, Butcher. He’s…"

She sat up and searched the bar for Jonah Laverty. The oldest of the three brothers wouldn’t mind her using him. She’d known the guys for years. And—identical or not—Jonah had that whole smoldering intensity about him that his siblings didn’t.

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