Page 2 of Rockstar Rescue
But I turn away. I have very different plans for how I’ll spend the night.
CHAPTER 2
GINNY
Charlie Boy’s nose inhales the air as soon as I pull into the parking lot.
My Belgian Shepherd knows the smell of Lucky’s Bar—smoke, and meat sizzling on the grill. Though he refrains a whine of "let's have at it" like any normal dog, I know he's fantasizing about those juicy chops.
“You and me both,” I say, ruffling his ears.
The freezing air stings sharp as we step out of the SUV, the snow beneath my boots light but building.
“Ginny, you made it!” Big Bruce's voice booms as we enter Whitefish's version of TV's old rerunCheers.
As usual, the sound of pool balls cracking mixes with Hank Williams Jr. rasping from battered speakers.
“Brought those air filters,” I manage, holding up the box as he crushes me to his chest.
“You didn’t have to risk a storm to deliver ‘em.”
“In this town, there’s always a storm coming. I'm heading up to Forks Lookout. Start of my two-week rotation.”
Bruce’s brow shoots up. “You serious? In this weather? You're gonna be the one who'll need saving.”
I smirk. “So be it. You know the Forest Service code: no fear, no frostbite.”
Some of the local men eye me, nodding their greeting as I slide past the pool table. Charlie Boy growls, making it clear that if they get too close, there'll be hell to pay.
He's that kind of dog.
I squeeze into our usual booth near the far wall, the cracked vinyl sticking to my jeans.
Bruce returns with a big plate of ribs for Charlie Boy and me to share.
Well, not exactly on the same plate. But you get the idea.
As Bruce sets a plate on the floor, Charlie Boy glances up at me for permission to eat.
I nod, and he digs in.
"You sure got that service dog of yours well trained," he tells me with a laugh. "You're quite the mistress."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nothing," says Bruce quickly, his face reddening like he's caught saying something he shouldn't.
"No. Tell me to my face.”
"Nothing, Ginny. Just that the wife says your sharp tongue may be why you haven't found a man since..." Bruce's voice trails off.
"Please inform your wife that's none of her business. Not yours or anyone's, either."
"Just lookin' out for you, Gin. You're like a daughter to me. And you call me when you get to the cabin, you hear? I'll be right here fielding emergency calls when the storm hits."
Bruce leaves, but I no longer have an appetite. I slide Charlie Boy my meal, then slink back into the torn red leather booth.
Could what Bruce said be true?That I'm scaring men off with my not-taking-any-crap-from-anyone attitude?
