by Beth Andrews
“I’m impressed. The Valley Brook is pretty upscale. You must’ve wowed them with your interview.”
“Like I didn’t wow you?”
She tapped her fingertip against her glass. “Let’s just say I’m used to more…vocal interviewees. You know, people who speak when spoken to.”
“Good thing for me the people at Valley Brook didn’t have the same problem.” He dried his hands and grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler. “Besides, I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but it’s important for bartenders to be good listeners. Not talkers.”
She set her glass down with a soft clink. “Well, then you must be a great bartender.”
He almost grinned. “I saved your ass tonight, didn’t I?”
“That you did. Could you hand me a clean rag so I can wash off the tables?”
He handed her one, making sure he didn’t touch her, then took a long drink before asking, “What happened to the bartender you did hire?”
“Not sure. She seemed excited to get the job, and was even apologetic when she called to tell me she wasn’t coming in.” Allie shrugged. “Guess she had a better offer.”
Yeah. She had. He’d made sure of it. Katherine had found out that Terri Long’s real ambition was the stage. She’d followed her boyfriend—a ski instructor—to Serenity Springs. Dean had pulled some strings and got Terri hired as an understudy in an off-, off-Broadway show, effectively ending Terri’s desire to work at The Summit.
He wondered if it ended her desire for her boyfriend, as well.
“That’s too bad,” he said. “Hope you find someone else.”
“OKAY, GUYS, NIGHT’S OVER,” Allie told the last three men left in the bar. “Last call was forty-five minutes ago. Time for you to move on.”
Two of them slid their chairs back, but the dark-haired one in the middle, the biggest one, didn’t budge. “I’m not done with my drink,” he slurred.
She sighed. Why were the biggest ones always so much trouble? “You’ve got five minutes to finish it and get on your way. Or else I call the cops to come and escort you out.”
“That won’t be necessary,” the taller, lankier one on the left said, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallowed. “Right, guys?”
The shorter one with the thick neck nodded, while Big Guy glared at his beer.
“Five minutes,” she repeated, walking away.
Since Dean had everything under control behind the bar, she finished wiping off tables. She hated to think about what her night would’ve been like if he hadn’t shown up. Even Noreen had said he wasn’t half-bad.
And from Noreen, that was high praise indeed.
Allie scrubbed at a sticky spot on a corner table. She had to admit Dean had impressed her. He’d not only saved her ass—as he so eloquently put it—but he’d stuck around to help clean up. Which meant she might get home and in bed before the sun rose.
Yep, no doubt about it. Dean was her hero. She wiped the table dry before setting the chairs on it. She just had to figure out how she was going to persuade him to give up his job in Saranac Lake and work for her instead.
She ran her hands down her jeans, picked up her rags and headed behind the bar. “You have everything under control back here?”
“So far,” Dean said.
He was quite the man of understatement. But during the past few hours she’d come to realize that although he talked slowly and took his time, he was far from stupid or lazy. He got the job done, kept the customers happy and seemed at ease whether trying to sweet-talk Noreen into cleaning, or shutting down a young coed when they’d overimbided.
Hey, maybe there was something to being laid-back.
She’d have to give it a try sometime.
She refilled her glass, drinking from it and then nodding at the three young men getting to their feet. “I’m glad they’re leaving. I was afraid I’d have to call Jack.”
Dean tipped his hat back. “Jack? That your boyfriend?”
“No, my brother.” She ran her finger through the condensation on her glass. “He’s also the police chief.”
“That’s handy.”
“It’s great,” she agreed. “I can always count on him to bail me out. And then lecture me until my eyes cross.”
Was it any wonder she’d never told Jack what had happened a year ago, what she’d done, before she’d bought The Summit? Even after all these months she still had a hard time facing herself in the mirror. She didn’t need to face her family’s disappointment in her, as well.
She bent to tie a bag of garbage closed as the three kids passed the bar. Instead of moseying on out, though, the big one stopped. “I changed my mind.” He hefted himself onto a stool and slammed his hand on the bar. “I want another beer before we go.”
“Sorry, no can do,” Allie said before Dean could respond. “We’ve already had last call.”
“Come on, Harry,” his tall buddy said, glancing warily at Dean. “Let’s get back to the hotel. We’ve got a twelve-pack there, remember?”
Harry—did people still name their kids that?—stood and shoved his companion into the bar. “Back off. I want my beer here.”
“I’m giving you ten seconds,” Allie said, making her voice as cold as the weather outside despite the uneasiness in her stomach, “then I’m calling the cops.”
Harry puffed up his chest, swaying with the effort. “I’ll go when I’m ready to go.”
Both of his friends began talking at once, trying to convince him. Before Allie could pick up the phone to call in the cavalry—namely Jack—Dean sighed and tossed down his cleaning rag. She grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He looked at her as if she’d been drinking the disinfectant solution. “I thought I’d convince young Harry and his followers to go home.”
“But there are three of them.”
He gently peeled her fingers off his arm. “I appreciate your concern, but I think I can handle the Three Stooges here.”
Then he walked around the bar. She bent down and picked up the Louisville Slugger Dillon had made her promise to keep under the bar for protection. Her hands shook as she wrapped her fingers around the handle.
If she had to hit someone with this thing she was going to be mighty ticked off.
Dean, in no particular hurry that she could see, sort of…ambled…up to Harry and his friends. The kids flanking Harry took a step back. Must be Dean’s sheer size. It couldn’t be his fierce demeanor. From what she’d seen of him, the guy was so easygoing she was surprised he didn’t slip into a coma.
“You’re ready now,” Dean said quietly.
Harry held on to the bar as if trying to remain upright. “What?”
“You said you’d go when you were ready. You’re ready now.”
“Says who?”
Allie blinked. Had she somehow been transported back to grade school? No, they weren’t a couple of ten-year-olds calling each other names. They were two very large, fully grown men facing off in front of her.
Dean kept his hands loose at his sides. “Bar’s closed.”
“Back off.” The guy punctuated his statement by shoving him in the chest.
Dean took a step back to keep his balance, and Allie tightened her grip on the bat, her pulse skittering. But instead of losing his temper, he looked at Harry’s friends. “You’d better get your buddy out of here before he lands all of your asses in jail.”
Harry sneered. “Why don’t you go back to the range or wherever you came from?” He leaned forward and knocked Dean’s hat right off his head.
Oh, Harry, that wasn’t a smart move.
“Kid,” Dean said with a quiet intensity that made her shiver, “you have a lot to learn. The first of which being don’t ever touch another man’s hat.” He stepped forward. The two smarter ones backed up. “Now, you’ve got two seconds to get your butt out of this establishment—”
“Or what?” Harry asked, with more beer-induced bravado than brains.
/> Dean actually grinned. A dangerous and—okay, sexy—grin that said please give me an excuse so I can smash your head in.
Not that she blamed him. After all, Harry had knocked his hat off.
“Or else I escort you out personally,” Dean said, making no doubt that it wasn’t a statement, but a promise.
The two men stared each other down. Tension filled the room; the threat of violence permeated the still air.
Allie cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt this testosterone battle, but do you want me to call the police?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dean said, never taking his attention off the kid. “Will it, Harry?”
“No,” Harry grumbled after a moment. His friends, sensing their chance, took hold of his arms and started pulling him backward. “This bar sucks, anyway.”
She loosened her grasp on the bat. Crisis averted. Thank God.
Or it was until Harry wrenched free of his friends and swung wildly at Dean’s head.
She gasped and raised the bat to her shoulder, but Dean didn’t need her coming to his rescue. In one smooth move he stepped to the side, pulled his arm back and punched Harry. Allie grimaced at the crunching sound of bone hitting bone as Dean’s fist connected with the drunk’s nose.
Harry groaned and slid to the floor in a heap.
Allie’s palms were so sweaty the bat slipped out of her grip and hit the floor with a loud bang. But nobody seemed to notice. Harry’s friends stared wide-eyed at Dean, and Harry…well, poor Harry wasn’t doing anything except bleeding. While Dean stood there, big and imposing and a little scary, with his hands clenched.
He then raised an eyebrow at the two friends. They both shook their heads.
Holy cow. The man was like some Chuck Norris wannabe. No wonder he’d patted her on the head when she’d tried to talk him out of confronting Harry and his buddies. From what she’d just seen, she wouldn’t be surprised to find out he could’ve taken all three of the younger men at the same time.
Her initial reaction to Dean had been right. There was way more to him than met the eye.
Dean snatched up his hat, sat it on his head and knelt next to Harry, who had come to enough to moan. “Another thing you need to learn,” he told the kid cheerfully, “is not to start a fight you have no chance of winning.”
WHY DID HE ALWAYS GET stuck working with the softhearted ones? In the last year he’d done jobs for both an inner city teacher whose students ran all over her, and a youth pastor in a small town who wanted to save the kids in his flock from the fires of hell. Too bad the kids were more concerned with having fun than being saved.
Dean shook his head and picked out two bottles of tequila from the supply closet. Once Harry had come around, Allie had hovered over the kid. She’d given him ice for his swelling and cut nose, asked if he needed some pain reliever. Then she’d spoken in depth to Harry’s friends, making sure one of them was sober enough to drive. Luckily, the skinny kid was the designated driver or else she probably would’ve made Dean play chauffeur.
“Did you have to punch him so hard?” she asked as soon as he came back into the room.
“Next time someone takes a swing at me,” he said as he added the tequila to the stock behind the bar, “I’ll politely ask him to stop.”
She crossed her arms. “I just hope he doesn’t try and bring you up on charges of aggravated assault. You can claim self-defense, but he might counter that you used excessive—”
“I have a right to protect myself.”
“Sounds like you know your law.”
“I know my rights,” he said, keeping his cool. “You’re the one who’s talking like a lawyer or something.”
She blushed. “That’s because I am a lawyer.”
Even though he already knew about her past as a defense attorney, he played along. “You’re a lawyer and a bar owner?”
“No.” She picked up a rag and wiped off the already clean bar. “I…changed careers about a year ago.”
He leaned against the counter. “Is your career change working out for you?”
She glanced up at him, a loose strand of hair curved over her cheek. “Oh, yeah. It’s been great. Really, really, really great.”
Uh-huh. All those reallys weren’t fooling anyone.
“Were you any good?”
Her eyes grew sad for a moment. “Yeah. I was very good.”
He watched her carefully. “Must’ve been hard to give it up.”
The corners of her mouth turned up in a fake smile. “I needed a change.”
And if that was the truth, the next time some drunk took a swing at him, Dean would let him connect. “What kind of law did you practice?”
“Criminal. So, I take it you excelled in the marines?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to go along with the change in subject. He knew when to let something drop and when to push. Besides, he had plenty of time to get to know Allie. To learn all of her secrets.
Using the broom she’d brought out, he swept behind the bar. “Why do you say that?”
“Uh, because of the way you flattened poor Harry. You must’ve gotten an A+ at hand-to-hand combat.”
“Poor Harry?” Dean shook his head, kept sweeping. “First of all, subduing a drunk civilian doesn’t take much skill. Secondly, weren’t you the one who wanted poor Harry’s butt hauled off to jail?”
She sprayed disinfectant onto the work areas behind the bar. “I wanted to scare him. I didn’t realize you were going to go all Walker, Texas Ranger on him.”
“I’ve worked in a lot of bars. Was a bouncer in a few of them and have dealt with plenty of drunken idiots.” True. Sort of. “And believe me, after a man’s been swung at enough times, he’d better be smart enough to learn how to duck. Or how to fight back.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you sound like Jack.”
Jack Martin, the police chief brother. And, according to the information Dean had from the cute redhead who worked the desk at the motel, the first Martin sibling to run back to Serenity Springs from New York.
“Jack must be a smart man then,” Dean said, picking up the dustpan.
“He is. He’s great.” She took the broom and swept the dirt into the dustpan he held. “But if he asks, I’ll deny I ever said that. As a younger sister, it’s my duty to bug, tease and annoy him mercilessly.”
“I’ll have to call my mother and thank her for not having any daughters.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He dumped the dirt into the trash can. “I have two younger brothers, Ryan and Sam.”
“You’re from Dallas, right? Is that where they live?”
“Yeah.”
“You must miss them.”
His fingers tightened on the dustpan’s handle. He did miss his brothers. Missed his entire family. It’d been almost two years since he’d walked away from them. But he still couldn’t forgive them. Not yet.
And he’d never be able to trust them again. Especially Ryan.
“Looks like we’re about finished here.” Hey, he could change the subject just as easily as she could. Yes, the best way to get someone to trust you was to pretend to open up to them yourself. But damn, he didn’t want to have this particular conversation now.
Or ever.
Besides, the bar was too small, too intimate when they were the only people there, to talk about family. It was too easy to forget he was working.
“Oh. Right. Hold on.” She opened the cash register, counted out some money and handed it to him. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”
“Something tells me you would’ve handled things on your own.” He tucked the bills into his pocket.
She stepped closer to him. “What would it take to convince you to give up that job in Saranac Lake and work here instead?”
His heart picked up speed. He loved it when a plan came together.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Saranac Lake is farther n
orth. It’s much colder up there than Serenity Springs.” She laid her hand on his arm as she spoke, her fingers warm on his skin. He stood stock-still, his pulse drumming in his ears. His scheme was working almost too well. “Plus, I’ve been up to the Valley Brook. It’s very fancy. You’d have to wear some dorky uniform.”
“For what they’re going to pay me, I’d wear a clown suit.”
She inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself, and took her hand off his arm. “How much did they offer you?”
Since he really didn’t have a job offer, he made up a figure he thought was reasonable. But when he told her, she winced. Then she swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’ll match it. So what do you say?” she asked hopefully.
When she smiled at him like that, his head buzzed. His hands itched to dive into her thick mass of hair.
Ah, hell. What he was going to do next could lead him into a whole mess of trouble.
It’s for the job, he assured himself. To convince her he was just an easygoing cowboy with nothing more on his mind than his next paycheck.
Which was total crap, but he’d hold on to that justification for as long as possible. Because he wanted to touch her, to kiss her before they went any further.
Before there were too many secrets and lies between them.
“I’ll accept the job,” he said gruffly, “in approximately five minutes.”
She laughed. “What? That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” He edged closer to her. She took a step back. Then another, until she was pressed up against the bar. “You see, after I accept the job, you’ll be my boss.”
“You have a problem with me being your boss?”
“Not at all.” He settled his hands on her waist. She tensed, her palms going to his chest. “But once you’re my boss, certain…actions on my part would be inappropriate.”
“They might be inappropriate even if I’m not your boss.”
But she hadn’t pushed him away—or hauled off and slapped him.
So he was still in the game.
“They might be.” He tugged her warm, lithe body against his, crushing her hands between them. “I need those five minutes.” He ignored how true that statement was—and how much it endangered his job—as he pressed his mouth against the rapidly beating pulse at her neck. She gasped. He rubbed his cheek against hers and leaned back so he could look into her eyes. His voice barely a whisper, his mouth hovering over hers, he asked, “What do you say?”
