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Connelly looked up from his laptop and blinked at Rose Rawlings as she set a mug of coffee in front of him. “I didn’t order this.”
“On the house. You look like you can use it.” She slid into the booth across from him. “Not getting much sleep?”
He thought of the night on Veronica’s porch and waking up to the sensation of someone standing over him, the chill of immediate danger raising the hair on the back of his neck. He felt the chill now, even though Rose always kept the Mad Dog Pub warm and cozy.
He reached for the coffee. “No. Not really.”
Rose propped her chin on her hand, and her new wedding ring glinted in the light. She was a beautiful woman with long black hair, bright blue eyes, and a body built for male fantasy. For a short time, when he first arrived in town, he’d considered asking her out but quickly realized the sheriff was madly in love with her and backed off. He had no interest in getting on Ash Rawlings’ bad side.
Now he considered Rose a friend. Her pub, a quintessential rustic dive, had been his choice of office space more often than not since moving to Steam Valley. He loved the place and usually enjoyed the company, but today, he wished she’d leave him alone.
“Book not going well?” she asked.
He exhaled a short laugh. “It’s not going at all.” And the long nights on Veronica’s porch weren’t helping. He’d have to sleep in his own bed tonight, though he loathed the thought of leaving her alone. If he were exhausted from lack of sleep, he wouldn’t be able to protect her—but was there even anything to protect her from? He wasn’t sure, but he needed to be functioning at one hundred percent, just in case.
He took a long sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste and letting it warm him down to his bones. Maybe the caffeine would kick-start his brain.
He lifted the mug to Rose in a toast. “Thanks for this. What do I owe you?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s on the house.”
He expected her to go back to tending the bar, but she stayed put.
He raised a brow at her. “Don’t you have work to do?”
She motioned to the redheaded man washing glasses behind the bar. “I have Jeremy now. I can take a break.”
The man— or kid? He looked young enough to be fresh out of high school and was of average height and build with a shock of orange-red hair. Other than his hair, he wasn’t particularly noticeable, but something about his face looked familiar.
As if reading his mind, Rose leaned in. “That’s Jeremy Firestone. I heard he and his Dad were struggling without Dr. Firestone’s paycheck, and Ash had been on me to hire some more help, so here he is. He’s shy but otherwise a good worker.”
Ah. That was why he looked so familiar. He was a younger version of Hank Firestone, who was a regular at The Mad Dog.
“He looks just like his father.” Connelly watched Jeremy disappear into the back room with a bus tub full of dirty dishes. “How’s he doing?”
“How do you think? He lost his mom,” Rose said flatly. “Which is not an easy thing at any age.”
And she’d know since her mom had been murdered when she was only thirteen.
“Fair point.” Which reminded Connelly he hadn’t spoken to his mom since last week. He should call her.
“So…” Rose waved away the sad topic and tilted her head, studying him. “I heard a rumor you’ve been sleeping on Veronica’s porch.”
He stared at her in shock. “Who the hell told you that?”
“Just a rumor.” She lifted a shoulder. “Small town. Nothing stays secret around here.”
Connelly rubbed a hand over his face. “She won’t let me in.”
They both knew he meant more than into the house.
Rose nodded and slid from the booth as the bell over the door sounded. “Have you spoken to Rylan about it?”
Before he could answer, Ash Rawlings stomped into the pub, his usual scowl firmly in place. He strode over to Connelly’s booth, pausing briefly to give his wife a quick kiss.
“Do you mind closing for a bit? I need to talk to Connelly, and I feel safer doing it here where we’re less likely to be overheard.”
Rose stared up into her husband’s eyes, and her brow furrowed with concern. “I’ll lock up. It’s been slow anyway.”
