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The trouble with small towns was the fact that some people just knew too damned much about you.
“You lookin’ for work yet?” Dawson asked as the bartender served the drinks.
“According to the job.” Jack lifted his shoulder negligently.
“Living the dream, are you?” Dawson grunted.
“And what dream would that be?” Jack asked.
“That teenage fantasy of bikes, booze, women, and brawls.” River shot him a mocking look. “Seems to be working for you.”
“Seems to be,” Jack agreed.
Dawson seemed pissed over something.
Shifting his gaze to where Poppy and Sasha Crossfield stood laughing, Jack leaned his elbow on the bar and slid a look at Dawson. Oh, he was keeping up with his woman, same as Jack was. The difference was, he wasn’t publicly claiming her as he obviously wanted to.
“You know, a lot of people are going to be pissed if you break her heart,” Dawson pointed out. “And Poppy might seem accepting of your lifestyle at the present, but she’s going to expect you to get a job soon, to be an adult.”
Jack scratched at his jaw and gave Dawson his full attention.
“You know, River, when I hit you, I’ll break your face,” he said conversationally.
River’s dark green eyes narrowed as arrogance settled over his face like a shroud.
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t change the truth. Seems to me like a mature man would take things a little more seriously,” Dawson warned him, his voice tightening as though offended.
“We’ll see,” Jack promised him, then turned back to find Poppy. “For now, I think I’ll take my immature ass over and claim my woman. Maybe you should do the same.”
Walking away from the bar, Jack headed for Poppy as he caught her gaze.
Those green eyes of hers heated as she smiled at him, a dimple flashing in her cheek.
“Time to go, sugar girl,” he told her as he stopped next to her and lowered his head to nuzzle her ear. “You wanna ride with me? One of my men can drive your SUV.”
He watched her face flush, but it was pleasure, not embarrassment, that curled at her lips.
“Not if you rode in on your bike,” she murmured. “This skirt would become indecent fast.”
He grunted at that. “Baby, I hate to tell you, that skirt is already indecent.” He slid one hand over her thigh and found feminine flesh that grew heated awfully quickly.
“It’s perfectly decent unless that hand of yours decides to get unruly.” She tilted her head, smiling up at him teasingly.
“Well, now, that’s always possible.” He played with the jagged hem, making certain his fingers stroked the flesh just under it.
She caught his wrist, curling it around herself as she leaned back against his chest.
“Not here, it isn’t,” she told him firmly, though there was amused pleasure in her voice. “But I do need to be going soon. I still have lasagna, my chicken stuffing casserole, and rolls to bake tonight for dinner tomorrow.”
Chicken casserole? Lasagna and rolls? Real ones? The kind made at home?
Hell. He didn’t think he’d ever eaten the real stuff.
“Say your goodbyes then,” he told her. “I’ll be at the car when you’re ready.”
She moved away but glanced back at him, another of those soft little smiles tugging at that dimple in her cheek as she moved to her group of friends.
Turning to the bar, Jack motioned Lucas over.
