“Don’t know yet. But two random inspections in two weeks isn’t random.”
Rook pulled up something on his phone. “The first complaint was filed anonymously. No name, no return address. The licensing review was flagged by someone in the county assessor’s office.”
“Someone with reach,” Ghost said from his usual spot at the table. He rarely spoke in church. When he did, people listened.
“Someone with money,” I said.
Angel looked at me. Held my gaze for a beat that told me he was already thinking what I was thinking, but neither of us said it out loud. Not yet. Not until we had something solid.
Church broke up. The brothers scattered. I went through to the bar to check the inventory because it was a job that needed doing and because Evie’s shift didn’t start for another hour and I could be in and out before she came through and the place opened.
I was wrong about the hour.
She was already there. Behind the bar, early, restocking glasses from the dishwasher. Wearing the red flannel she’d bought in town, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her hair pulled back, and I stood in the doorway and watched her for three seconds before she turned around and caught me.
“Hey,” she said.
“You’re early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” She set down a glass. Looked at me. Her eyes held mine, a challenge in them that hadn’t been there two weeks ago. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Yeah. I have.”
“Is that going to keep happening?”
The honest answer was no. The responsible answer was yes. The answer that came out of my mouth was neither.
“Come here.”
She came. Around the bar, toward me, and every step she took made the distance between us feel like something I’d beenwasting. She stopped a foot away, close enough that I could see the slight unevenness of her breathing, the way her hands hung loose at her sides even though the rest of her was vibrating with the same tension that had been eating me alive for two days.
I put my hand on her face. Her face fit my palm perfectly, her skin warm, her eyes lifting to mine with an expression that took the last piece of my resolve and set it on fire.
“I’m too old for you. I shouldn’t do this,” I said. One more time. Because I owed it to whatever was left of my conscience.
“I don’t care.”
“I know you don’t. That’s what scares me.”
I kissed her. Slower than the first time, deliberate, my thumb tracing the edge of her jaw while my mouth learned the shape of hers. She made a soft sound against my lips and her hands came up to my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt, and the softness of that sound went through me like a detonation.
I walked her backward. Through the staff door, down the corridor, through the lodge. She came with me willingly, her hand in mine, her fingers tight around my fingers, and I didn’t let myself think about anything except the next door, the next hallway, the room at the end.
I wanted her in my room. Not hers. Mine.
I shut the door behind us, turned the lock and she was on me before I’d finished. Her arms around my neck, her mouth on mine, kissing me with urgency. My back hit the door, her body pressed full against mine, and she was warm, so fucking warm, every soft curve of her fitting against me until my brain went white.
“Slow down,” I said against her mouth. “We’ve got time.”
“I don’t want to slow down.”
“I know. But I want to do this right.” I pulled back far enough to see her face. Flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark withwant. She looked undone already and I’d barely touched her. “How long has it been?”
She swallowed. “A while. College. It wasn’t... it wasn’t like this.”
Years. Years since anyone had touched her. The thought of it did something to me, a possessive, protective heat that climbed through my chest and settled in my hands where they held her. I was going to take my time. I was going to make sure every second of this was hers.
I pulled her flannel off slowly. The t-shirt underneath. She stood in front of me in her bra, her arms at her sides, and I watched the uncertainty flicker across her face.
