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Pete’s wrinkles deepen with a crooked smirk. “Can you blame me when my better half is the self-proclaimed driver of Knox Creek’s gossip train? If I came home with a juicy bite for her to chew on, I’d be handsomely rewarded.”
“Give Claudia my best, yeah?” I tap the invoice in a silent reminder.
He squints at the total, a thick sigh pushing past his lips. “Trying to get rid of me?”
I watch the snow fall faster. “The roads are gonna be shit soon.”
Pete turns to follow my gaze. “Suppose I better get home. It’d be real unfortunate if I’m one of those you’re hauling from the ditch later. You’ve taken enough of my money already.”
“Wouldn’t be an issue if you’d get a new truck rather than insisting on fixing this beater.” My chin juts in the general direction of his rusty Ford.
“Why would I bother with all that when you keep her in such pristine condition?”
“Just looking out for you and your wallet.”
“That’s awful considerate,” he drawls while pulling out his credit card.
“Sometimes I surprise myself.” I get his bill paid, passing over the receipt. “Guess I shouldn’t complain about the business.”
“Probably not.” He pats my shoulder. “You followin’ me out?”
“Yep, I’ll be right behind you. Gonna grab a beer while I still can.”
“Wise man.” Pete seems to consider his options.
I round the desk and usher him toward the door. My jacket is waiting for me on a hook. “Don’t make Claudia worry about you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.
“Drive safe, okay?” I watch as he gingerly steps up into the cab of his pickup.
“Same to you, kid.” With that parting remark, Pete pulls from the lot and disappears from sight.
I’d be more concerned if his house wasn’t two miles down the road. Knox Creek isn’t large by any stretch of the imagination. Even in a blizzard, it wouldn’t take more than thirty minutes to cross from one end to the other on a snowmobile.
When the icy wind smacks my cheeks, I lock the deadbolt and tread carefully toward the three vehicles parked in a row. My boots crunch in the fresh snow with each step. In an attempt to be proactive, I choose one of the tow trucks. I slide behind the wheel, blast the heat, and turn onto Main Street.
The windshield wipers squeak in a lazy cycle as I drive the three blocks to Roosters. My favorite watering hole glows brightly like a damn beacon reaching out to haul me in. There just so happens to be a spot out front along the curb with my name on it.
A vicious chill attacks me as I hurry to the entrance. The temperature is dropping by the second. Calls might start streaming in before I can even park my ass on a stool. I yank the door open and squint against the brightness. My eyes are quick to adjust thanks to the dim setting.
It only takes a single breath to spot the blonde bombshell attempting to blend in with the sports memorabilia and rustic wood décor. The clench in my gut bellows that she doesn’t belong, especially not slinging drinks behind the bar.
But the logo stamped on her shirt and the apron tied around her curvy waist suggests otherwise.
“You better be fucking joking.”
I wince at Jake’s bellowed outrage that can be heard across the entire bar. From my section a few paces away, the battle cry almost topples me sideways. The counter keeps me upright as I study his furious expression.
Reflections from the overhead bank of televisions flicker in his glare. Beneath the scruff coating his jaw, a muscle pops and twitches. Veins bulge in his inked forearms while he stands too still. Steam is going to spew from his ears at any second. The reaction sends a giddy thrill through me. I’m easy to please like that.
Garrett Foster is the first to intercept the new arrival’s hostility. Roosters’ cocky—pun intended—owner doesn’t look flustered in the least as he props an elbow on the wood counter separating them. “Hey, Evans. What’s got your panties in a twist?”
“You hired Harper?” His tone could slice through rock.
My boss tosses me a wink before answering. “Sure did.”
From where I stand, I can hear Jake’s molars grind. “Why?”
