Page 67 of Carver’s Craving

“He jokes that his parents had certain aspirations for him—and that serving in a bar probably wasn’t one of them—but that they love him.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Unlike my parents who’d slapped me with a rather mundane name—and expectations I was never going to be capable of meeting.

“Right. Just here.” He pulled into a parking lot. Off to one side was a blue-signed big box retailer. To the other side was a smaller building. I pointed.

“Mission Detachment of the RCMP.” Carver cut the engine.

We hopped out.

“Oh, so where Seth works.” I adjusted my jeans so they sat a bit more comfortably. “I wonder if I should drop in to see him.”

“He might not even be on shift. You’ve kept your phone with you, right?” He gestured toward the bar.

“Yeah.” I scratched my nose. “I’m impatient.”

“Totally understandable. You want answers. I’ll bet Seth wants them too and will deliver them to you as soon as he has them. Hell, he might even deliver Baxter.”

I didn’t miss the tinge of forced cheerfulness. I’d lay even money that Carver was beginning to have doubts. I rubbed my hands together for warmth as we approached the building. “I called Spike today. No sign of Baxter. I didn’t, uh, ask him if I could have my guitar. He’s got no reason to trust me. I mean, my name’s on the neck of the thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s actually mine.”

Carver cleared his throat as he held the door open for me. “We’ll see.”

I blinked. What does that mean? I didn’t have a chance to ask as he grasped my elbow and sort of propelled me through the bar and into a room at the back.

“Carver!” A chorus of about ten voices rang out.

My eyes widened as my companion stiffened.

Okay…not the greeting he expected.

A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper dark-brown hair, gray eyes, a barrel chest, and a wide smile approached. The guy was almost my weight, but some serious muscles. He clapped Carver on the back. Then immediately pivoted his attention to me. “Lorcan Abernathy. Glad you decided to join us.” He stuck out his hand.

I grasped it. “Styx.”

He didn’t even blink. “Great, Styx. Let me introduce you. Oh, here’s Thor. He can take your drink order.”

Thor was exactly how Carver had described him, although I added amused eyes as he took my order of a root beer.

Carver ordered the same and continued to hold my elbow as Lorcan made the introductions.

Boss Foster—a Black man who was a few inches shorter than Carver. Foster’s lawyer husband Arnav—who was able to join them tonight because they had a babysitter watching their foster children.

The lawyer with the tanned skin had a wicked sense of humor. Even if Carver hadn’t warned me, I would’ve figured it out right away.

Aimee was the electrician. Stella, the woman who did tiling, was happy to proclaim she was a lesbian but found me adorable.

Okay.

Agatha the plumber, and then a bunch more guys. I did my best to try to associate each name with the face and some factoid that might stick. It appeared Foster’s crew was pretty evenly split between genders with several people of color.

Finally, Lorcan introduced me to his husband—Cody. The psychologist who worked at Healing Horses Ranch. The man had wild, curly, light-brown hair and soft-blue eyes. He was as slender as Lorcan was broad. Truthfully, they made an adorable couple and, as they cuddled, Cody was the one met my gaze.

Carver and I sat, and my butt was barely on the chair before Thor had my root beer. He smiled. “You need a moment or—”

“I checked out your menu online. Thanks for that. May I have the nachos with extra sour cream?”

“Absolutely. Carver?” He pivoted his attention.

“Pub burger with onion rings.” He met my gaze. “Actually, change that to curly fries.”