the moment.”
Tehya didn’t work Saturdays and Sundays. She usually cleaned house, took care of the yard, or did paperwork. Normally, she didn’t arrive at the bar until late for a drink, and to watch other customers while pretending she was a part of the joviality that existed among them.
Friendly’s was just what its name implied. No one put on airs, no one pretended to be superior to the others. It was simply a nice little place for a beer, friendly company, and a chance to unwind.
And still, she felt out of place. And today, she definitely wasn’t unwinding, while the sense of not belonging felt sharper than normal.
Always on the outside looking in.
Always dreaming about life, but never living it. She’d never had a chance to live, to love without fear, or to work to realize her dreams. And she hated that.
A shaft of light speared through the side entrance, drawing her gaze as she lifted the beer to her lips, pausing before taking a sip.
Tehya wanted to groan in frustration. Instead, she pretended not to see the new arrival as he strode to the table and pulled out the chair before sitting down.
That didn’t keep the few women in the bar from turning to stare. After all, he was tall, broad shouldered, arrogant, and had an air of sexy, dominant danger about him.
He was dressed in jeans, a casual dark shirt, leather jacket and boots, and there were probably no less than half a dozen weapons hidden on his body. Breathing out wearily she stood from the table, ignoring Casey and Journey’s curious gazes as she moved to the bar, followed by the silent, dark-eyed male everyone seemed to be watching. His arrival told her far more than words ever could. Jordan was serious about this unsanctioned operation. And he was serious about making certain someone was watching her.
He slid onto the barstool beside her. “Give me what she’s having,” he ordered the bartender, nodding at her beer.
Kyle shot her a surprised look before filling the order and taking the money tossed onto the bar.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low as she lifted the bottle to her lips. “And who do you have following me? I know it wasn’t you.” She would have seen him. Micah wouldn’t have tried to hide from her.
“Nope, wasn’t me.” A flash of white teeth in sun-darkened flesh, the glimmer of devil’s black eyes.
Micah Sloane, aka Maverick.
She sighed. “You should be home with your family.”
What the hell had Jordan done, pulled in the whole freakin’ team?
“Seen the pictures lately? I’m telling you, that little rugrat is hell on wheels.” Pure pride filled Micah’s voice as he pulled a photo from his inside jacket pocket.
Tehya almost rolled her eyes at the proud papa move.
Laughing, radiant. It was almost as if the picture itself were infused with the love shining from his young blond wife and the toddler, black-haired, black-eyed Trace, she held in her arms. Micah sat beside her, his arm around her, and in his free arm he held an infant dressed in pink. Six-month-old Emmaline Allegiance Sloane.
The boy had a mischievous grin on his face, the daughter innocently content in her father’s arms, and the mother stared back with a secretive Mona Lisa smile. She was a woman who knew the joys, the secrets of being loved by a strong, powerful man.
He tucked the photo away again.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, taking another long sip. “Why aren’t you home with them?”
From the corner of her eye she watched as he reached up and scratched his jaw while staring at her profile. Black eyes were gentle, his expression compassionate.
“Well, see, I have this friend,” he confided, his voice low enough to carry to her ears only. “She’s in trouble and doesn’t want to accept help. Then I have this other friend. He’s lost his heart and doesn’t want to accept it. I’m here to help both of them. I’m a nice guy like that.”
And she wanted to cry, because he truly was a good friend like that and thought nothing of endangering himself to help a friend.
“Your friend hasn’t lost his heart,” she said, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “Trust me, it’s right there in his chest, just as hard and cold as it ever was.”
Micah chuckled.
“Hey, Teylor, this yahoo botherin’ you?” Casey’s voice came from behind her. It sounded more aggressive than she had ever heard him, and filled with a warning to Micah. Lord love him, Casey had