Jack’s gaze flicks up to mine, questioning.
“He’s a friend,” I tell them, saving him from having to figure out what the appropriate answer is. “New in town.”
“Ooo,” Melissa says, turning fully in her chair to face him. “We love meeting new people.”
“Jack Sullivan,” he says with a tip of his chin. “I’d shake your hands, but mine are a little full.”
“Oh, Missy,” Myra says, swatting her friend on the arm. “Let’s get out of the way so the fine young man can set his…” She eyes Jack’s haul. “Olives and Malört down.”
The two of them stand, and I watch as Jack takes in their outfits, graciously suppressing his amused smile. His cheeks have gone red from the warmth inside, and he must have run his hands through his hair at the bar because it’s even messier than before, sticking up at all angles. His clothes are always clean andfree of wrinkles and he keeps all of his things at the cabin tucked away in tidy, organized spaces, but I’ve noticed his hair is always a little disheveled, more so than ever now.
Jack sets the haul down on the table, a little of the liquor spilling onto the coated wood. He wipes his hands on his pants, looking between the two women. “Would you care to join us?”
“Oh, no, honey,” Melissa says, waving in the direction of the stage. “We’re up soon.” She glances back at me, winking. “We’re performing ‘Get Low.’”
A laugh rumbles from Jack’s chest before he sees how serious they are.
“We’ve been practicing all week,” Myra says.
I roll my lips together to hold back my smile, but Jack recovers remarkably quickly. “I’m sure it will be outstanding. I can’t wait to see it.”
The two women turn back to me with Cheshire cat grins, and lead sinks in my stomach because I know what this means—they like Jack. And they’re never going to let me forget it.
They each bend to press kisses to my cheeks, surely leaving behind lipstick marks, before disappearing as quickly as they came. Jack and I stare at each other with matching smiles of amusement.
He sinks into the chair across from me, leaning on his elbows on the table. “So they seem great.”
“They’re something,” I say with fondness. “But unfortunately they’ve decided to set us up.”
He lifts one brow. “Did they say that?”
I shake my head, tracing a finger around the rim of one of the shot glasses, the spilled liquor making the tip damp. “No, but I know them very well.”
“Seems so.”
I catch his eyes. They’re sparking under the dim lights of the bar, the colored spotlights roaming around lighting him up inevery color of the rainbow. “You should know what it’s like. You said you’re from a small town, too, right?”
He nods. “Montana.”
I shrug. “More cowboys, same amount of busybodies, I’m guessing.”
A grin unfurls across his lips, and I feel the pleasure of it like an egg cracking at the base of my neck and sliding down my spine. “Mmhmm. Town’s full of them. They’re relentless. Yours seemed nice though.”
“Very nice,” I agree. “But devious too. Relentless,” I echo.
His head shakes. “I don’t believe you. They were sweet.”
“They were charming. It’s how they hide the claws they’ll sink into you when you least expect it.”
Jack’s lips roll together and he glances up at the stage right as Myra and Melissa are allowing two young men to escort them onto it. “Noted. Okay, let’s each share the most intrusive thing one of the people in our hometowns have done and whoever loses has to sing the karaoke song of the other’s choice.”
I’m not a gambler in the least, but I’m so sure that I have this in the bag that I reach out my hand for him to shake.
He shakes his head at it, and pushes the shot in my direction. “Let’s drink on it.”
“If I thought olives taste like dirt, I certainly won’t be letting Malört anywhere near my mouth.”
His head tips back in a laugh, Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, and something about it draws me in. I hardly know him, but from everything I’ve seen, he’s reserved, quiet, attentive without being overbearing. But right now he’s relaxed. Loose. Uninhibited.
