His gaze slides to the woman and I step in front of her protectively, my arm going around her shoulder.
She startles at my touch and warmth spreads up my arm. But she doesn’t move away. I guess she sees the sense in sticking close to me when there are a bunch of men day drinking.
We maneuver past the outdoor tables and to the front desk. The place smells like sour beer and burgers.
There’s a pool table in the corner, and a group of men stand around it with drinks in hand.
They look up as we come in, and one by one their gazes sweep over the woman like they haven’t seen one before. And I get it; the sawmill is the main source of employment on this side of the mountain. There aren’t a lot of women in town. But their attention makes my blood boil and I tighten my grip on her shoulder, letting them know she’s mine.
“Ow.” She gives me a sharp look. “You’re squeezing me too tight.”
But there’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s enjoying having my arm around her, and that makes me smile right back at her.
I loosen my grip, but only a little.
The woman scans the inside of the bar, and she can’t hide her displeasure.
“This is the hotel?”
“The rooms are upstairs.”
She squirms uncomfortably, and I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to stay in a place called Wild Times either.
“I’m not gonna let you stay here.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Not going to let me?”
“No. I wouldn’t let my worst enemy stay here on a good day and especially not a woman alone when half the guys from the lumber yard are in there getting smashed.”
“I can look after myself.”
She folds her arms across her body, and I wonder where she learned to be so defensive. I want to peel the layers back and get to the softness inside.
“I’m sure you can. But you don’t have to.”
Not when I’m here to look after her. But if I admit what I’m feeling, she’ll freak the fuck out.
A squat man with rosy red cheeks comes over to us.
“Hey Grant, what can I get you?”
“We’re not here to drink, Hank.”
“I’m looking for a room,” the woman cuts in quickly, giving me a pointed look. Well, she is determined. If she insists on staying in this shithole, I’ll just have to station myself outside the door all night.
Hank slides a lined notebook over from the desk and peers at the names written there. “You got a reservation?”
The woman’s face falls. “No, I didn’t think I’d need one.”
Hank shakes his head. “Sorry hon, we’re fully booked.”
I could kiss Hank right now, but I keep my expression neutral as I lean on the bar. Something sticky tugs at my jacket, and I straighten up. This place needs a good clean.
“I got a spare room at my place.”
The woman glances at me, her troubled eyes peeping out from under her bangs.
“Is there nowhere else?” Her face falls when she realizes what she’s just said. “I mean, it’s nice of you to offer, but you’ve already given me a lift. I can’t put you out.”
