Page 7 of 5 Golden Flings

She took a deep breath, reached for calm. Her work was in front of her and she forced her attention to return to the screen.

They noticed her. She felt the exact instant, the fall of quiet that spread across the barroom, the stillness. She heard one of them say, “Well, that’s different,” followed by a softly growled, “Shut up.” Without raising her head she could tell the other customers were looking at the new group, then back at her.

Lonnie said, “Stop blocking the door and grab some chairs,” and the group moved farther inside. They shoved two four-tops closer together but not aligned, then chair legs scraped across the floor as they too were shoved haphazardly around the tables. Most of the men were still standing when Lonnie came out from behind the bar and approached them. “What’ll it be, guys?”

He hadn’t done that with the other customers, instead raising his voice as they entered and asking for their orders. Nova wondered uncomfortably if he was using the break in routine to quietly warn the newcomers away from her. She also thought she might tell Lonnie she loved him; he’d been far above what she’d been expecting when she walked into his bar.

The men jockeyed around, choosing chairs, throwing their beer orders at Lonnie so fast she wondered how he’d remember them or keep them straight, considering he didn’t have an order pad with him. Nova really,reallywanted to look at them to match voices with faces, but self-preservation kept her gaze on the computer screen. She scribbled a nonsense note on the pad beside her, to reinforce the fiction of work in progress. Since the moment that group had entered she hadn’t been able to focus on a single on-screen item.

Lonnie went behind the bar and began loading the drink orders on a tray. The mid-level chaos of getting seated, preliminary round of insults delivered, the group made themselves comfortable and their conversation quietened. Nova took a sip of water and forced her attention to the screen and sales data. A text from Granita came in and she answered it, smiling a little because Granita’s texts were always entertaining. As if Granita’s text had opened the communication floodgates, in quick succession she received one from her mom and three from her employees. None were emergencies, they were all more of updates. The home front was as calm as could be expected, and that was just what she needed to enter her mental work bubble again.

Lonnie took the beers to the men and there was some quiet conversation. If he had issued a warning earlier, he was being taken seriously.

The half-hour of additional work time she’d mentally allowed herself had come and gone, disrupted by the arrival of theTestosterone Team. She should go now, and she’d trust Lonnie to make certain she made a safe exit.

She looked over at Lonnie behind the bar and asked, “Lonnie, do you have coffee?”

“Sure do. I was just about to make some.”

She wasn’t sure of that, but it was possible he kept coffee made to make sure the drunks leaving the bar were at least wide awake. “A cup to go would be great.”

“Coming right up. How do you take it?”

“Cream and sugar, one of each.” She wouldn’t sleep good tonight, but neither would she fall asleep on the drive to the motel she’d booked.

While the coffee was making she sent a couple of emails, checked her phone for texts and ignored the same ones she’d ignored the night before. She turned to remove her crossbody bag from the back of the chair were she’d hung it by its strap, and when she turned back around there was a man standing in front of her table.

Her heart leaped. She hadn’t heard him approach, which alarmed her in and of itself. Moreover, Lonnie hadn’t said anything, but when she darted a glance at the bar she saw that Lonnie was either in the kitchen or was taking a pee break.

Adrenaline burned in her veins, setting her on edge. She wasn’t scared, just startled. So far she still had the situation under control and she meant to keep it that way.

“Don’t bother,” she said without looking up at the man. “I’m not interested in a stranger-danger hookup, so don’t waste your time introducing yourself. As you can tell, I’m working.” She kept her tone cool and impersonal as she slipped her cell phone into a pocket of her bag.

There was a long moment of silence. Lonnie didn’t return to the barroom. The outside door opened and three older women accompanied by one older man entered, creating a distraction asthey debated which booth they wanted. Nova looked at them and make a quick assessment that the man was married to one of the women and was the designated male escort and driver for her and her two widowed/divorced friends. They all had the lean, dried-up look of desert-dwellers, and she pegged them as locals.

“I don’t do hookups,” the man standing at her table finally said, and the deep growl of his voice almost made her jump. He was the man who had told the others to shut up — and they had obeyed.

For the first time she allowed herself to look up at him, just a quick assessment before she began packing up her laptop and notepad. Immediately she wished she had stood first, because she had had to look farther up than she liked from her seated position, and his height was imposing. He looked rough. He needed to shave, about three days ago. His cargo pants and shirt looked as if he’d had them a few years, and worn them often. His dark hair was on the verge of being long enough to curl at his neck, and his gaze was narrowed and hostile.

Hostile?

Okay. Hostile was good. She thought it was good, anyway. Right? Maybe not.

Lonnie came through the kitchen door, noticed his new customers in the booth, and raised his voice. “What’ll it be tonight? Drinks or food, or both?”

There was a flurry of back-and-forth, and all the time the man stood silent and unmoving in front of Nova’s table. Lonnie glanced at them but evidently didn’t see any need to come to her rescue . . . assuming she needed rescuing. She hadn’t yet made up her own mind about that.

The coffee should have finished brewing by now. Why hadn’t Lonnie brought her cup? She wanted to get to her motel —

“You’re way out of place here,” the man said, his voice so low no one else in the place would hear him.

CHAPTER 5

“I wasn’t planningto move in,” she replied, still in that cool and even tone. His statement vaguely annoyed her. Who was he to tell her where she fit or didn’t fit? She was an adult who could choose the steps in her life. “I needed gas, so I stopped to fill up. I was hungry, so I came in to get something to eat.”

“Where are you intending to go?”

“To the next town,” she said crisply, adding no more detail than that.

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