by Tess Oliver
“Well good for her. Let’s just hope that unlike her grandfather, she’s not tough enough to withstand a Montana winter.” I grabbed the bottle of whiskey and the glass and walked to one of the many empty booths.
I slid onto the seat and went straight to taking lonely whiskey shots. I’d done it to myself. For the past six months, I’d made too many plans in my head to take over the place and finally quit logging. I’d started out at nineteen on a logging crew. It was hard and dangerous, but the pay was good, just what a punk-ass kid of nineteen needed to set him straight. Back then, I was still getting in too much trouble and in too many fights. I was still busy beating myself up for being the cause of my mom’s accident. She’d been on her way to pick me up from the principal’s office, a place I knew too well, when she’d been killed by a cement truck running a stop sign. Losing my mom had been a harsh slap in the face, but rather than settling down, my behavior had spiraled out of control. A few years after losing my mom, my dad threw up his hands in surrender. He sent me to Montana to live with my grandfather. And while the betrayal and hurt I’d felt from having my dad give up on me had followed me for years, Montana had, in the long run, been a good decision. I regretted growing up away from my two brothers, but it was clear that if I’d remained in Nevada, I would have ended up in jail or worse. Taking over the restaurant would have given me a chance to prove to myself that I’d come full circle and left behind my shitty past for good.
The front door opened and Becky strolled in with her usual exaggerated swing of hips. Her hair was cropped so short, it stood up on end all over her head. But with round blue eyes and a button nose, she had the face to pull it off. The most ridiculously sexy thing about her was the spray of freckles across her nose. We’d dated for a few months but neither of us had been feeling it, except when we were in bed. Then it seemed we could read each other’s minds, and I was definitely reading hers as her long legs carried her across the wood floor to my booth.
She sat down and helped herself to a shot of whiskey. She lifted the glass into the air with a wink. “Here’s to looking at you. And, as usual, it’s a pleasure, Gage Barringer.” She threw back the amber liquid and winced as she swallowed it. “Shit, that’s strong.” She smacked the glass down on the table. “I thought that was your truck out there in the lot. Why the hell is a hunk like you sitting here in this booth all alone taking whiskey shots? Maybe you need something to take the edge off.”
“That’s what the whiskey is for. Besides, I’m not alone. You’re here.”
She leaned closer and rubbed her breasts against my arm. “I am, and guess what?” she whispered into my ear.
I leaned back against the seat and looked at her. My lids were already starting to feel heavy from the shots. “You’re horny?”
She reached for the bottle again. “I sure am. There’s just something about seeing you that makes the heat between my legs surge.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
She leaned over me and picked a pine needle off my shirt, while rubbing the other hand along the front of my jeans. She breathed in deeply. “You smell outdoorsy fresh, Mr. Barringer.”
“Pine is a lot cheaper than cologne.”
She laughed. “Why the hell didn’t we last, Gage? We were so good together.” She tapped her chin dramatically. “Oh yeah, I remember why. I caught you in bed with not one but two girls.”
I peered over at her. “We were only good together in bed. And in my defense, one of the girls was passed out drunk and had no part in the antics on the opposite side of the mattress. Plus, I might add, you started me off on my wild sex tangent because I’d caught you in the back of Corey’s car, windows fogged and panties down around your ankles.”
She smiled coyly, a complete inconsistency to what she was doing to me beneath the table. Her hand rubbed sensually over the front of my jeans. Half a bottle of whiskey hadn’t lessened my reaction. My cock went hard against the pressure of her hand. “I guess we weren’t good for each other. Too bad.”
My focus was a little off, but everything else was clear as day. “Becky, you’re starting something that has only one acceptable ending.”
“Then my plan is working. You know I’m always up for a ‘no-strings-attached’ romp.” She gazed down beneath the table at my erection that was aching to spring free.
“Those are my favorite kind of romps,” I said.
“I’ll meet you in my office.” She slid out of the booth and strolled over to the women’s restroom.
I poured myself another shot and held up a toast to Rita, who was shaking her head in disapproval. I flung back the whiskey and climbed out of the booth. On my path to the restroom, I grabbed a ladderback chair from one of the tables and dragged it across the rough planks of the floor. I kicked open the door to the women’s restroom.
Becky was using her pinky to clean up the lipstick from beneath her bottom lip. She looked at me in the reflection on the mirror and smiled as I yanked the chair inside and shoved the top rail beneath the door handle. My head was spinning nicely from the liquor as I strode across the moldy tile floor of the bathroom. I grabbed Becky’s arm and spun her around to face me. She opened her lips to speak, but I muted her words with my mouth.
She kissed me and fumbled impatiently with the top button on my jeans. Her hand slid into my pants, and her fingers wrapped around my cock, pulling it free. “You do have protection, right?”
I peered down at her through eyes that were narrowed to drunken slits. “Now you’re asking?” With some effort, I yanked my wallet out and found the package slipped between the leather folds. “Never leave home without it.”
Becky unzipped her jeans and turned to brace her hands on each side of the pedestal sink. I yanked her pants and panties down to her knees. Her round, white ass rose temptingly in the air. But I needed no more coaxing. My fingers dug into her hips as I plunged my cock into her warm pussy. She met each thrust with a push of her naked ass. I reached down and my fingers slid between the moist folds. She cried out as my calloused fingertips made contact with her clit. The sink wobbled loudly in rhythm with our movements.
“Fuck yeah,” Becky screamed out as she came. It echoed off the tile walls. My final two thrusts shook the sink loose from the wall, and the distinctive sound of water rushing over a tile floor followed.
Becky laughed. “Oops.”
“Guess they aren’t making sinks the way they used to.” I reached down and turned off the valve to stop the water.
“I’m moving up to Boston,” Becky said casually as she buttoned her jeans. “Did I tell you?”
“Nope, you never mentioned it. That’s going to make our ‘no-strings-attached’ thing a little harder.”
She smiled, stepped close and reached up with her thumb to wipe lipstick off my face. “You’re going to miss me.”
“I am.”
“Good. My grandmother needs someone to help her. She was recently widowed. I’m hoping to catch me one of those Ivy League types, you know with the expensive sweater and the convertible sports car.”
“I wish you luck then, in your Ivy League quest.”
She hopped up on her toes and kissed me. “I’ve got to go. My mom needs me to pick her up from bingo. God, I can’t wait to get out of here and move to a place where bingo isn’t the main attraction on a Friday night.”
I yanked the chair out from under the doorknob and motioned her past. The legs of the chair stuttered behind me on the floor, attracting the attention of Rita and the girl standing next to her. Aside from one strand of pink, the girl’s hair was nearly white blonde, but her eyes were as dark as chocolate. A dragonfly was neatly tattooed on the side of her neck, a long white neck made longer by the swept up ponytail. It was the type of neck that just begged for kisses. Her lush bottom lip dropped in confusion as she watched me pull the chair back to the table. Rita had been right. She was sweet and frail like a meringue confection. Obviously coming to the conclusion that I hadn’t just been rearranging furniture,
the girl scowled at me across the room, the girl with the impossibly pretty face, the girl who had just yanked my dreams out from under me.
chapter 8
Summer
The massive guy watched me with what seemed to be a slightly intoxicated, slightly angry gaze as he slid into the booth where a half-empty bottle of whiskey sat. “Rita,” I said questioningly.
Rita followed the direction of my stare. “That’s Gage Barringer. He owns a ranch a few miles down the road from your place. He just came down the mountain after a long week logging. Likes to blow off a little steam in here. That logging is a tough job.” Rita continued drying the glasses behind the counter. “He’s a sight, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s extraordinary, but by blowing off steam—” I looked over at her. “I just saw him walk out of the ladies’ restroom behind that girl who just left. And he was dragging a chair—”
Rita forced back a smile, which, of course, assured me of what I was thinking. “I’ll get him a hamburger,” she said. “He’ll need to sober up some before he drives home.”
I reached over to the tray that held the cutlery folded in napkins. “I’ll go set his table.”
He had piercing blue eyes that seemed to change colors beneath the pitifully inconsistent lighting in the restaurant. He peered up at me through heavy lids as I leaned over the table and placed the silverware down.
“You must be the new owner.” His voice was deep enough to go with the imposing shoulder width and brazen gaze.
“I’m Russell’s granddaughter, Summer.”
“Summer?”
“Yes, Summer.”
“We don’t get much of that up here. Summer, that is.”
“Very clever. Well, you’ve got it now. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t use my ladies’ restroom as your personal brothel.”
A smile tipped the side of his mouth, and if it hadn’t been so obnoxious, it would have been appealing. “Never had to pay for sex in my life.”
“No? Well, good for you. Maybe we’ll make you a little plaque or something.” I was probably scaring off a regular customer, and one who looked as if he could down five burgers and a pitcher of beer in one sitting, but I couldn’t stop myself. My anger at Logan and Mr. Tately had made me less than happy with the male species, and as Rita had mentioned, this was a fine specimen, which only made him that much worse.
He took out his wallet and flicked a hundred dollar bill my way.
“That’s a bit elaborate for a tip. All I did was bring you silverware.”
“That’s not a tip.” He poured himself another shot. “That’s to pay for the sink.” He gulped back the liquor and then lifted his eyes to me. “Did a little damage in the brothel.”
“Looks like you broke your record of never paying for sex then.” I picked up the money and shoved it into my pocket before swinging around and marching back to the bar. “What an asshole,” I muttered.
Rita pulled her order pad out of her apron and dragged the pen from behind her ear. “Who Gage? He’s really sweet once you get to know him.”
“I can’t imagine.”
She leaned closer, although, no one was near enough to listen in. “Don’t let on that you know this, otherwise Gage will never speak to me again, but he was hoping to buy this place. Your decision to take it over has sort of smashed his dreams.”
I glanced toward the booth. Two girls had slid in on either side of him, and they seemed to be in a competition to see who could sit closest to him. Still, I felt a tiny sliver of guilt. I had ignored the Raven’s Nest, and for the longest time, I’d had every intention of selling the place. But then fate had stepped in and told me to get the hell out of California. So far, I wasn’t completely convinced that my rash decision had been a good one.
Rita walked over to his table and set a bottle of ketchup in front of him. Even with two girls practically giving him a lap dance and Rita chatting with him, he hadn’t stopped scowling in my direction. I suppose it might have been because I hadn’t stopped glaring in his either.
Rita returned.
“There must be a shortage of men in this town,” I said.
Rita laughed. “Not at all. This is logging country. If a girl can’t get herself laid up here then she’s not trying hard enough.”
I looked around the room. There were other men sitting at tables, and they had no girls fawning over them. Rita once again seemed to sense what I’d been thinking.
“There isn’t a girl up here who hasn’t tried to land Gage Barringer.”
“Then why is he still single? Doesn’t want to give up the freedom, right? Typical.” I disliked the man more and more.
“I don’t know if that’s it at all. Sometimes he comes down from the mountains after a long work week and he looks so weary that, even with girls crawling all over him, he looks lonely. That boy just hasn’t found a girl who can keep him in check yet. Gage Barringer hasn’t met his match.”
I had to consciously force myself to stop looking his way, and it frustrated me more than a conversation with my mom. And our last conversation, when I’d laid out my plans to leave singing and keep the restaurant, had been more than frustrating. Explosive was a better word. I wasn’t sure if she’d talk to me again. At the moment, I was rather enjoying her cold treatment.
Rita returned from the order window with a burger plate. She made a point of showing it to me. The patty was charred to a gristly looking disc that was more charcoal than meat. “Have you called Maxwell to coax him back to the kitchen?”
“I have, and he agreed— on a trial basis. I guess he wants to see if I’m worthy of being his boss first.” I took off my apron. “I’ve still got some unpacking to do, Rita. I’ve been sleeping on top of a bare mattress in my sweats and two layers of socks. When Kristina comes in, can the two of you close up?”
“Sure thing, honey.”
“Thanks, Rita. You’ve been so helpful. I promise just as soon as this place is up and running, I’m raising everyone’s pay.” I sighed as I glanced around the nearly empty restaurant. The rustic, mountain decor fit the location perfectly, but it all needed some sprucing up. “I’ve really let my grandfather down by taking so long to get up here.”
Rita came up next to me. She was about my mom’s age, but there was something much more genuine about Rita. I’d taken an instant liking to her, and I was grateful for her help and her blunt honesty. “I guess something pretty horrid must have happened to cause you to up and leave sunny California.”
I nodded. “Let’s just say that, as much as we need them, men can be one big drain on happiness.”
“Here, here,” she said. “You wait and see. This place will be back up and running in no time. You know, one thing that we could use in here again is live music.”
“Is that what that patch of floor is over in the corner? A stage?”
“Yep. There’s one band that really draws in a crowd. They play a lot of old rock and roll and a little country. That goes over really well with the weekenders. I’ve got their number in the office. Tomorrow you should give them a call and see if you can book them.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks Rita. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
chapter 9
Summer
Dark mountain roads, I’d discovered quickly, were not my thing. Mostly because the closest I’d ever come to driving on one was an extremely short road trip along Mulholland Dr., and even then, there had been so many city and street lights, it’d been anything but dark.
My century old car choked on its own gasoline fumes as it waddled along the road. The heater sputtered out some dusty smoke as I tried to coax just a trickle of warmth from the vents. I blew out a burst of air in disgust. I could see my breath in the car. It was fucking October, and I could see my breath. In California, I’d still be wearing sandals and possibly a thin sweater in case a dry wind kicked up.
I reached forward and turned the knob on the radio. Nothing came in clear, which might have had more to do with my radio t
han the signals in the area. I hummed to myself and cruised along thinking about the plaid curtains I wanted to hang over the windows in the restaurant when the silhouettes along the road went from vaguely familiar to completely foreign. I’d gone too far.
I leaned forward and glanced up at the night sky, not for navigational purposes, because having not been born an eighteenth century sailor I had no idea how to use stars for directions, but to see why the moon wasn’t doing its usual thing and beaming down some light. There was no moon. None at all. Not even a damn sliver.
It was way past any dark that I’d ever experienced in my life. Along one side of the two lane highway, I passed what seemed to be a small ranch house nestled amongst some pines. I turned off the road, and the car clanked painfully as its tires hit a small drop off and some gravel. Backing up to turn around brought another yell of protest from my car. Looking on the bright side— there was no traffic and reversing out onto the highway was easy.
I headed back up the road I’d just traveled. At least things didn’t seem as unfamiliar now. My lousy sense of direction had made me miss the turnoff for the house, but my highly refined sense of timing told me I was only about five minutes past it.
It was still strange to think of it as my house. I’d never had anything all my own before, and I was getting sort of used to the idea. Although living out alone in the middle of nowhere was kind of scary. The first few nights in my grandfather’s house, every noise woke me and deep sleep never came. Fortunately, Kristina, or Friday, as the restaurant customers called her, needed a place to live. She’d lost her husband in an accident and was not fond of living alone. She’d be moving in just as soon as her lease was up. I was looking forward to it.
