“I don’t understand why you don’t think he’ll serve me.”
“Rhubarb moonshine mean anything to you?” He makes a face reminiscent of someone dying before heading toward the bar.
I stand next to the bulletin boards lining the front wall, thinking about the night with the moonshine. How Mach and I got into a huge fight and I didn’t realize what moonshine was. And how he picked me up and took me home and stayed with me all night to make sure I didn’t pass out in my own vomit.
Besides the people playing pool in the back, the only other patrons drinking are seated near the old jukebox. As my gaze runs across a pair of pink panties pinned to the top of one of the bulletin boards, it settles on Peck. He waves at me to join him.
His merriment at my situation is written all over his face. I hope confidence masks the fear on mine. No matter how I get to the end result, this is going to hurt.
No, this is going to be hell.
I make my way over the cement floors. A man wearing a sleeve of tattoos and an undeniable invitation tickling his lips passes me. He turns around and whistles as he walks backward to the door.
This helps.
My confidence slightly bolstered, I look back at the bar.
This doesn’t help.
My feet shuffle, nearly tripping over an invisible boulder in my way as Machlan’s lips form a thin, hard line. His arms cross his thick chest.
Even with the cool reception, my cheeks still heat.
Machlan sure knows how to make hell feel like home.
Two
Machlan
“I was wrong.”
Nora slides the cash register drawer closed. “What about?”
My teeth grind together, flexing my jaw all the way to my ear. “About what I said earlier about the day not able to get worse. It could.”
“What’s happening—oh …” Her voice trails off as she steps next to me. Her hand clamps on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“Chicken,” Peck calls after her.
Nora’s retort and Peck’s heckles fall to the wayside as Hadley gets closer.
Freckles splash across her face like they always do at the end of summer. Pieces of her hair are bleached by the sun, and her body is curvier than I remember and hot. As. Hell.
The day may look worse, but she’s never looked better.
My fingers dig into the wooden bar as her muscled, tanned legs carry her my way. The white blouse almost hides the tops of her breasts, and it takes every fucking bit of self-restraint I have not to hop over the bar, pick her up, and carry her right out of here. When her brows raise in a “Got a problem?” kind of way, I hear Peck cackle. And as my hand falls to the crotch of my pants to adjust myself, I realize I don’t have one problem. I most definitely have two.
One