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I step inside like usual. The stiffness in my stride can be blamed on the cold. As predicted, Harper is front and center behind the bar. Everything else fades until she’s all I see. I curse at the weakness she spreads inside of me.
My approach is measured, but not cautious. This is just a bumpy patch in the long haul. We’ve been seeing too much of each other. She belongs at the dance studio. Roosters is mine, dammit.
Her grin almost suggests that she’s pleased to see me. “Well, look what the creature of habit dragged in. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you in this fine establishment tonight.”
I check my watch while sliding onto an open stool. It’s barely seven o’clock. “Feel free to pretend you didn’t.”
“Aww, there’s the grumpy asshole I’ve grown to adore. I would’ve missed out on these warm fuzzies if the tabloids were true.” Her upbeat attitude grates on my composure.
Flames lick at my chilled cheeks while I pin her with a glare. “What the fuck are you going on about?”
Harper wipes at a smudge on the counter, then flings the towel over her shoulder. “A well-informed tattletale told me you were going to Bent Pedal.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I spit. “Word traveled that fast?”
She snorts. “You sound surprised.”
More like impressed. The purpose of my waltzing into Roosters was to appease the masses. It usually takes longer to spread. Apparently, the juice is extra rich when it comes to us.
I smooth my features into a neutral scowl. “Susan left my shop ten minutes ago.”
“And you walked here. That was a mistake.” Her observation is too keen after the gossip train already blew through town.
Tense alertness straightens my posture. “Keeping tabs on me?”
A blush rushes up her delicate throat. She rips her gaze off mine and digs in the cooler. “Uh, you look…parched.”
A Coors Light appears on a coaster in front of me. I grab the bottle and guzzle a generous swig. “What if I wanted something different?”
A careless shrug is her initial response. “Too late. You already drank from that one. Better luck next round.”
“Shitty customer service,” I grumble.
“Would you like to speak to my manager?” Her grin is smug as she nods toward Garrett across the room.
“Hey, sugar! Don’t forget about me.” A guy whistles from a few spots down the rail. His arms wave in frantic motion, as if his prized possession might disappear.
“Duty calls,” Harper chirps.
I seethe as she skips off to dote on the rude interruption. The eager beaver isn’t shy or quiet with his affections. Every smarmy compliment is a gong in a silent temple. My knuckles tighten into a furious white around my drink. His attention on her resembles a slobbering golden retriever. A puddle of drool is about to form on the wood separating them.
Harper smiles and laughs, even twirls her hair, but the actions seem forced. That’s what I tell myself to stop the deafening roar from stabbing my eardrums. In reality, she’s about to grab a fork to eat up the bullshit he’s feeding her.
To drown the fire in my veins, I lift the beer to my lips and chug. The contents get drained at an alarming rate. It’s not to call her back to me faster. I’m just thirsty, and too damn warm. Heat pumps under my flesh like a fog machine. I strip off my jacket that’s suddenly suffocating.
“Another?”
I damn near startle at the gravelly timbre. Ridge Carter is casting a shadow over my personal space like a broad building. The former professional hockey player is tough to miss. That makes this delayed reaction caused by my singular focus even more embarrassing. Not that he needs more ammunition against me.
“Need something?” I square off against his towering form.
“Do you?”
“The fuck?”
“You’re empty.” He juts his chin at my bottle. “Want me to fix that?”
“Nah, I’ll wait a bit.”
