Page 2 of Brewer

Brewer hummed. "Bartender, it is."

I moved away, answering the call for another beer from further down the bar. Taking a breath of relief, I felt as if I'd just dodged a bullet.

Then the door of the bar opened. And the air punched out of my lungs when I saw the man who crossed the threshold.

Stephen Adams.

My ex-fiancé. The man I had hoped and prayed I would never see again.

As Stephen lingered on the threshold, scanning the bar, a few people turned to look and I tried not to grimace. In a sea of worn flannel shirts, black leather, grease-stained jeans, and tattoos, Stephen stuck out like a sore thumb in his pressed slate gray slacks, starched white button-down shirt, and gold watch. In this part of the world, he might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign around his neck, begging to be beaten black and blue, and robbed blind.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to dodge Stephen's searching gaze. Inevitably, his eyes fell on me. And a slow smile spread across his face, revealing perfectly even, too-white teeth.

I used to like that smile,I thought. I used to think he was handsome, my ticket out of this town and the beginning of a new life, a better one.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Now, that smile churned my stomach. He looked like a wolf and I was his cornered prey.

Chapter Two

The bartender was a quiet little thing. She kept her head down and didn't seem inclined to flirt with anyone. It looked like all she wanted to do was get her job done and nothing more.

I'm not the type to chase after a woman if she's not interested in the game. I know how to keep my hands to myself. But I couldn't help watching her – the curve of her hips in those tight jeans was making it difficult to focus on anything else in the room. When she leaned over to wipe down the bar, her dark blue tank top rode up, revealing a glimpse of perfectly smooth skin at her lower back, sending my blood racing south.

Then she froze and her gaze shifted past me in the direction of the door. The look that came over her brown eyes was enough to scream volumes. Something was wrong. And she wasn't happy about it.

Gradually, I turned on my bar stool to look. The only way to describe the man standing at the door was: douchebag. No one walked in here with pants looking like that, flaunting a gold watch piece unless he wanted to get mugged. His skin was too evenly tanned to suggest a life in the sun. And his teeth gleamed a chemically brightened white.

If I was feeling generous, I might have chalked up his appearance to running out of gas. But there was a diner one block over that would have been safer for him than a biker bar.

Besides, I wasn't feeling generous. Judging by the bartender's expression, this man brought nothing but trouble with him.

The douchebag approached the bar, one hand tucked into his pocket.

"French martini," he said.

I snorted loud enough that it was obvious I'd overhead, butting in. The douchebag turned his head slowly to look at me, eyebrows raised.

"Something funny?"

I held the douchebag's gaze as I retrieved a cigar from my kutte pocket and clamped it between my teeth.

"Don't have any of that fancy shit here, pretty boy," I replied. "You're in the wrong neck of the woods if you're looking for an expensive cocktail, brother. It's beer, whisky, and tequila."

The douchebag pasted on a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I don't believe I was talking to you. What the establishment serves is up to the bartender."

Establishment.I wanted to strangle this prick with my bare hands already. All I needed was an excuse and I'd be happy to do it.

He turned his gaze on the bartender. She had her back against the opposite counter, pressing herself as far away from this guy as she could physically get. Something was definitely wrong here. After a significant pause, the bartender spoke.

"What Brewer said – beer, whisky, tequila. We keep it simple around here. Coke and rum if you're lucky but we're probably out at this time of night."

The douchebag clenched his jaw.

"Fine. Beer."

The bartender cast a glance in my direction and I dipped my head in a single nod, hoping she understood the message.

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