“I know, but now it’s real. You’re building something here.”
I bend down, my lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “We’rebuilding something,” I correct before I sit back up. “And speaking of?—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say, Iz.”
“That I should move Salty Romantic to that empty building by the new hockey complex?”
I grin. “See? You know me so well.”
“Jack—”
“You could though. It’s zoned for retail. Prime location, right by the beach. You could have that patio, and people could sit outside with their books and coffee.”
“Jack,” she laughs, biting back a grin. “I can’t just move Salty Romantic.”
“It’s in the literal name of the store. Now you can be on the beach.” Izzy rolls her eyes. “Come on. We could be business neighbors.”
“I like where my shop is.”
“But you could like it even more somewhere else.” I lean in again, gently squeezing her thigh. “Plus, I could come steal your lunch any time I want.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re relentless.”
“You love it.”
“Debatable,” Ethan and Nolan chime in all at once.
But Izzy’s smiling, and that’s good enough for now.
Across from me, Nolan is nursing a beer, his attention somewhere else entirely.
I rap my fingers against the tabletop. “You good?”
He glances up, running his hand over his mustache. “Yeah. Just need another beer.” Nolan stands, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. “Be right back.”
My brother heads toward the bar, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd. He’s got another two inches on me at least. Years of being a smokejumper have worn him down, andmaybe it’s because I’ve been through the ringer this year too, but I recognize that pain there. My brother’s never been good at sitting still. He needs a project, or a purpose, or?—
I’m about to pull Izzy in for a small kiss when the crack of a fist connecting with bone cuts through the noise.
Everyone near the pool tables falls quiet. I’m already turning, and that’s when I see her.
Dark-red-brown hair with pink highlights, athletic build, standing over some drunk asshole who’s clutching his nose. Her knuckles are red, her stance wide, and judging by the fire in her green eyes, she looks ready to throw another punch if he tries to get up.
“Fuck, and you thought you had a good right hook, Jack,” Ethan jokes.
The bartender’s already moving, but Nolan gets there first.
He doesn’t rush. Just steps between the woman and the guy’s friends, his posture relaxed but unmovable. I can’t hear what he says, but I see the way the drunk guy’s buddies take one look at him and back off. Nolan’s always had this calm, steady presence that makes people think twice about starting shit.
The drunk guy mutters something and stumbles away with his friends. Nolan turns to the woman and says something quietly. She shakes out her hand, examining her knuckles, and replies without looking at him.
Then Nolan gestures toward the door, and she follows.
“Is he going—” Annie starts.
“To leave with the woman who punched that guy?” I finish. “Yep.”
