Page 8 of 5 Golden Flings

“You should have left after eating.”

Okay, her annoyance level was rising. She was normally very even-tempered but she did have her limits. Before she could say something she might later regret, her attention was caught by a sound from outside, a deep rumbling that was rapidly getting closer and louder. She tilted her head to the side to look out the windows behind the man, and saw two sets of headlights flash and glare on the glass as two pickup trucks seemed to be racing each other into the parking lot. One slid to a stop dangerously close to her rental. She winced as the tires slung gravel; she’d probably have to file an insurance claim for some new dings and chips on the SUV. Four doors opened and slammed shut, loudcurses and laughter came nearer, and accompanied Lonnie’s four new customers inside.

The man standing in front of her table smoothly slid into the seat across from her and called, “Lonnie, two coffees to go, and our tab.”

“Sure thing,” Lonnie replied, before giving a curt nod to the newcomers.

If she’d been a pissy type of person Nova would’ve gotten indignant at the man for his high-handed actions, but she wasn’t pissy and she had enough situation awareness to know he’d made them look like a couple for the benefit of the four rowdies. She didn’t unbend enough to smile at him, but she might if any of the newcomers began paying attention to her. She was no longer the only woman in the bar, but the other three were seniors which made her still stand out.

The four appeared to have already been in the happy juice, enough to loosen their tongue and kill their sense of propriety, assuming they’d ever had any. Nova made a point not to directly look at any of them, either, but she was aware of an undercurrent of tension in the room. The four older customers weren’t exactly nervous but the women were frowning and the old man kept looking over his shoulder at the newcomers.

The four chose a booth, and she gave a little sigh of relief. They might be just looking for some beer and big talk with their pals, but the fact that they’d chosen a booth meant the two on the inside, against the wall, were less able to maneuver. Perhaps they didn’t think strategically but she did, thanks to her martial arts training, and she’d bet her life the Testosterone Seven did too. The six who were still at the shoved-together tables had subtly shifted their weight and positions, a couple of them sliding their chairs a few inches to better keep an eye on the potential troublemakers.

Her new table partner hadn’t looked at them either, but she sensed his attention was focused on their noise behind him. He was leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed, one arm resting on the table. The cuffs of his gray shirt were worn on the edges, folded back a couple of turns to show his thick bare wrists and the muscled, sinewy forearms. Nova found herself staring at his arm, momentarily forgetting the loudmouths. Thick, muscled arms were the arms of a man who did a physically demanding job.Strongandfitweren’t the same thing, but this man was both. So were all of his companions. Considering the military areas nearby, was he in the military? The length of his hair said he wasn’t, but she didn’t know of any other type of job that would give him and his friends that particular level of fitness and awareness, or the aura of dangerous competence.

She wanted to ask, but she also wanted to keep this situation under control and right now the best action seemed to be doing nothing.

Lonnie set two cups of coffee in go-cups on the table, along with a napkin-wrapped single pod of creamer, a packet of sugar, and a plastic stirrer. He slid a cash register receipt toward the man, who picked it up and glanced at it. “Cheap date,” he noted as he reached into his hip pocket for his wallet and pulled out a few bills.

Lonnie chuckled. “I bet you’ll pay for that remark.” He sighed as he looked at his new customers. “Let me see what these loudmouths want. I haven’t seen them in here before.”

“My friends will make sure they don’t wreck the place.”

The chuckle turned into a snort. “Your friends are more likely to wreck the place while they’re ‘helping.’”

“But they’ll do it with good intentions.”

There was a calm surety to him that Nova appreciated, despite her earlier coolness. She still had to navigate her exit andshe had no doubt he’d walk out with her, but beyond that she’d have to play things by ear.

While Lonnie was at the booth taking orders, she used the distraction to position her computer bag on the side of the table to hide her action and reached her hand across the table. “Thank you. I’m Nova Shelley.”

The man leaned back a little, his gaze narrowing and sharpening. Then he gave a little head tilt and slowly reached out to clasp her hand and give it a brief shake. “Dalton Hatcher. Call me Hatch.” He was holding her right hand but looked at the left one, at her ringless fingers.

The touch of his hand was electrifying. Nova caught her breath, tried to disguise the little gasp by clearing her throat but she knew he hadn’t been fooled because the corners of his mouth lifted in the tiniest of smiles that was also an acknowledgment.

She had felt it before, the chemical and electrical current of physical attraction, knew it for what it was. She busied herself with her computer bag to hide the fact that her heart was beating faster, though it would show up in the deeper color of her lips and cheeks and, damn, she knew he’d notice, just as she had also noticed that he wasn’t wearing any rings, either.

She couldn’t do anything about that, but neither did she have to act on that massive surge of attraction. “Thank you for your quick thinking, you probably saved me from a very uncomfortable situation — though Lonnie is on my side. He’s my new best friend.”

“Funny, I thought I’d hold that position.”

“I’ve known Lonnie longer, at least three hours.” She kept her tone grave, though she couldn’t stop a smile. “I just met you.”

Again that tiny smile. He did occasionally show more enjoyment than that because there were smile lines bracketing his mouth. She wondered how often he actually laughed —

Damn. She shouldn’t have shaken his hand. She shouldn’t have touched him. She needed to reel in her imagination and her libido and focus on what she’d planned to do next, which was get to her motel room and get a good night’s sleep.

Despite the masculine overload he and his friends exuded, she judged him to be a good guy. So did Lonnie, and that carried weight with her. During her visit to his bar, Lonnie had exhibited above-average powers of observation and good judgment. When she’d walked in, she hadn’t expected to become so fond of the bartender, but there it was.

“I need to leave. I don’t want to lose my reservation.”

He glanced around at the rowdies in the booth. “I’ll walk you out if you really have to leave, but they’ll notice when I come back in without you. I don’t know these guys, they may be looking for nothing more than some booze and time with their friends. They may be real assholes. If you want to play it safe, we’ll move to one of the other booths so you aren’t sitting in plain sight, and wait until they leave. Your reservation should be good until check-out time tomorrow.”

That was true. Driving late at night hadn’t been her plan, but sometimes flexibility was called for. She could adapt.

“Booth,” she said.

“Fast decision.”

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