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“Depends on what?”
I chew my lip and glance around. “I’m not exactly…out. Here in Shiloh, I mean. I try to keep a low profile.”
Our eyes meet and he nods, a glimmer of understanding passing over his features. “Got it. Stealth mode. I can work with that.”
Mason returns, sliding two longnecks our way, and Will pulls his wallet out.
“Dude, you know you don’t have to?—”
“I insist,” he says, handing him a five dollar bill. “How else can I buy him a drink if you’re not charging me for it?”
Mason gapes, fumbling for words. “I-I wouldn’t charge him either.”
“You’re missing the point, man,” Will says in a pointed way that has me bringing the bottle to my lips to mask the smile pushing its way to the surface. He kicks his chin up behind him to where the bar curves. “You’ve got customers.” Slinging an arm over my shoulder, he tips his beer bottle at him in thanks, and steers me away.
It doesn’t even occur to me to be worried what we look like. A single glance across the room shows several hypermasculine dudes hugging and hanging on to their friends as they watch the game.
Still, when he releases me a moment later, I can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves me. I don’t know what it is about being back in Shiloh that has me regressing back into the awkward, shy loser I was in high school?—
A man I pass cuts me a look, eyeing me up and down, his lip curling.
Scratch that.
Now I remember.
Will sidles closer to me, and when I peek over, I find him leveling a hard look at the dude we just passed.
My heart thumps.
Sensing me watching him, he drags his gaze back to mine, his mouth thinning. He gives me a single nod, without words, telling me he’s got my back.
And just like that, tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying, falls away like sand.
Twisting my lips together, I go to say thanks, for lack of anything better to say, when two cups sloshing with blue swamp-like liquid are thrusted at us, halting us mid-step.
“Drink these,” Ivy says, shaking them in our faces.
“Um, what is it?” Will says, taking it from her hand and bringing it to his face. He sniffs, and grimaces, looking away, fighting a gag.
“Better to just swallow it. You do know how to do that, right, Will?” Ivy says, smiling that caustic, sharp grin of hers, before whirling away and returning to wherever she came from.
Coughing back a laugh, I lift my drink to my lips, taking a small sip. Not bad.
“Seriously?” Will says.
I gesture at him with the hand still holding the beer. Guess it’s gonna be that kind of night. “Trust me, it smells a lot worse than it tastes.”
Eyeing me skeptically, he brings the cup to his lips, and takes a sip.
“See?”
Lowering it, he stares at the cup with a deep frown. “What the hell is this?”
I shrug. “Who knows with Ivy?”
I should probably warn him that she’s known for making killer cocktails—emphasis on the killer. We all know not to touch an Ivy creation, unless we’re looking to black out.
Which is the last thing I had in mind when I stepped foot inside this bar…
