Page 28 of 40 and (Tired of) Faking It
Chapter Thirteen
At first JD hadn’t been certain which man in the unruly group entering the pub had made Lily go rigid in his arms, not until one of them stepped into her path on her way to the restroom. The ringleader, it appeared. The ass looked like one of those men who’d been a hotshot in high school or college and couldn’t let go of the fact decades later. No potbelly yet, but the way he was chugging back the beer, JD had a feeling that was only a few years out. Still well-muscled, using his height to tower over the women. JD had been seconds away from forcefully removing him from Lily’s vicinity—and it had been Lily he was focused on, no doubt about that—when her friend Scarlett had remedied the situation.
Still, the man bore watching.
Others were watching him too, JD noticed. Narrowed eyes and uncomfortable shifts in chairs were scattered across the pub, but no one had made a move to interfere. The big bartender, Calder, had been in the back, but the three assistants had simply looked on with tightened lips. The thought of Lily being targeted with no one willing to step in started a burn deep in his gut. She loved this town, these people, were fighting for them and their livelihoods, for them to have something more than they’d managed with few jobs in the area. But no one but her girlfriends would stand up to this jackass?
The one Guinness he’d had was long gone. With the man in question still in his periphery, he decided to move closer, taking Calder’s return to the front as an opportunity to introduce himself to the bar owner—and be closer to Lily if another confrontation occurred. Maybe, in the meantime, he could get some insight into the tastes of the locals. Although the brewhouse Linc planned to open at Black Wolf would be pushing more high-end alcohol than the Drunken Otter, it never hurt to gather intel.
“Another?” Calder asked as JD approached the bar, jerking his head toward the table their group had occupied.
“Please.” JD held out his hand. “John David Lane.”
The man threw the towel he was holding over his shoulder and took JD’s hand. “Calder Harding. And everyone knows who you are.” His grin was open, inviting, without a hint of sarcasm.
“I imagine information travels fast around here.”
“You have no idea,” Calder said.
Judging by the looks he’d gotten all night, he did have some idea, but he kept his response to himself, merely giving the man a wry grin. “Mayor Easton has been kind enough to introduce me to some of the vendors and tradesmen in town—”
A snort from a few feet down the bar interrupted him. JD cut a glance at the asshole, as he mentally dubbed him, that burn in his gut returning.
Now that he had JD’s attention, the asshole straightened to his full height and puffed his chest as if someone had given him the floor. “I just betMayor Eastonis”—he actually made air quotes—“showing you around.”
An irritated grunt escaped Calder. “Give it a rest, Mason.”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I wa—”
Calder straightened from his slouch against the counter behind the bar, staring down the man from a height that was impressive even to JD, who was six feet already. “Not in my place, you won’t.”
So there was one person willing to stand up to this Mason. JD made a mental note to get to know Calder better.
“It looks to me like you’ve had enough to drink for tonight,” Calder continued coldly. “Finish up and head out.”
Mason’s face darkened, his anger palpable—and probably made worse by the fact that his group had seemed to arrive already buzzed and was now drinking even more—but he didn’t argue. Maybe they’d had this conversation before.
Mouth set in a belligerent line, Mason grabbed his glass, slammed back the rest of the beer, then snapped his fingers at the guy standing next to him. The man’s nearly full beer was handed over.
Calder opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of breaking glass and the urgent cry of his name jerked his attention to the other end of the bar. With a warning look at the asshole, he strode away.
The asshole smirked, his focus moving back to JD.
He kept his body loose, one elbow planted on the bar, and bore the man’s scrutiny in silence. The group surrounding him jostled each other, egging him on without outright saying so—not that this Mason seemed to need it. The minute Calder was out of hearing range, he said, “Those moves on the dance floor didn’t look much like ‘showing you around’ either.”
JD frowned and arched a brow. “Who are you exactly?”
The group howled, seeming amused at JD’s ignorance. The asshole silenced them with a look, anything but amused. “Mason Prescott, dickhead.”
JD ignored the insult. “Dwayne Prescott’s son?” It was a guess, but he was pretty sure he was correct.
“That’s right.”
JD waited for Prescott to strut out his own accomplishments, but it appeared his daddy’s identity was the only thing to brag about.
It didn’t take long for the other man to get uneasy with the silence and return to the topic of Lily. “Yeah, looks like you’ve got more going on with our mayor than just some business.” His emphasis on Lily’s title was a sneer. He cocked his head, eyeing JD narrowly. “I have to apologize.” A nasty grin appeared. “I’m sure her performance for you,showing you around,has been subpar. I tried to teach her all I know, but”—he shrugged—“some women just aren’t that talented in bed.”
JD heard a feminine gasp, and from the corner of his eye he caught movement at the opening of the hallway the women had disappeared into a few minutes ago.Lily.Prescott had spoken loud enough for her to hear. For many of the people around them to hear too. And yet, as JD looked around, he saw neither surprise nor outrage.
