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Hudson and Wyatt led the way, while Tim paused, nodding toward the bar. “That Cam?”
Nash followed the man’s gaze and frowned. Damn right it was, which was surprising. He thought Cam had headed back to Detroit after their disaster of a Thanksgiving dinner.
His younger brother was behind the bar, towel thrown across his right shoulder, red-and-black-plaid sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was smiling, chatting up a couple of ladies leaning against the bar, while pouring out shots of tequila for one of the league teams. Nash’s frown deepened. Where the hell was Honey?
He shoved his way through the thick crowd, tossed his jacket, and grabbed three empty jugs. There was a healthy ratio of women to men tonight, nearly fifty-fifty if he wasn’t mistaken. No doubt all the single girls knew where most of the men would congregate after hockey.
He shook his head with a wry grin. Some things never change.
Setting a jug under the spout, he angled it, nodded a quick hello to those in front of him, and took several drink orders while he was at it. Cam finished the shots of tequila, and several guys who played on Domestic Dispute lined up to grab them.
Nash nodded to Melanie Saunders, sister to one of his high school pals, and then turned to his brother.
“Thought you left town.”
“Lucky for you I didn’t.”
“Guess that depends on the perspective.”
Cam’s face darkened. “Don’t be an asshole. The place is busy as hell. Tiny and Honey had a hard time keeping up, so I jumped in to help.”
At the mention of his best bartender, Nash looked around. “Where is she?”
“In the stockroom. We ran out of bourbon and vodka.”
Nash put aside the full jug and shoved the next one underneath the tap, taking more orders as he did so. He was still pissed at his brother—that wasn’t going anyway anytime soon—but he was also an opportunist. “You planning on heading back to Detroit?”
“Nope. Why?”
Nash didn’t get a chance to respond, because a busty blonde, Belinda Byers, sidled up to the bar, her smile as big and wide as the expanse of flesh beneath her neck.
“Oh my God. For once, the rumors are true. Both Bookers back in town at the same time?” She looked at both men and practically licked her lips. “How did we get so lucky?”
“Dumb luck,” Nash muttered beneath his breath, though he fixed a smile to his face. “Hey, Belinda.”
“Hey, yourself.” The woman was dressed to the nines for a night out at the Coach House, surrounded by a bunch of sweaty guys fresh off the ice, most of them watching the game on the big screens throughout the bar. “So what’s this I hear about you and Jade Daniels?”
Cam snorted, but Nash ignored his brother. “Nothing. We hang out sometimes.”
“Uh-huh.” She pouted prettily. “Can you make me a Cosmo?” She glanced over her shoulder at someone and nodded. “Make that two.”
Nash grabbe
d the jugs he’d filled and looked at his brother, considering his options. They were a lot busier lately, and he could use the extra help. But Cam? Was he really going to do this? “You think you can handle that for Belinda?”
“You sure you want me to?” Cam looked serious as hell, and Nash knew his brother was giving him an out. Thing was, he wasn’t sure this was a good idea. The two of them still had shit to sort out.
“The triple sec is at the other end of the bar behind Tiny.”
Guess they were going to do this.
7
“Hey.”
Honey nearly jumped out of her skin. Heart beating like a jackhammer, she turned around and spied Nash watching her from the other end of the bar. It was two thirty in the morning, and after a long, busy shift, all she wanted was a shot of Jack Daniels chased by a tall, cold draft and some peace and quiet.
“I thought you’d left.” It had been crazy busy, and her boss had pretty much worked the entire night. She grabbed up the bottle of JD and held it in the air. He nodded, and she scooped up two glasses, pouring them each a generous shot as he moved closer.
