When I Need You (Need You #4)(71)

"If it doesn't work out, not to go all woo-woo and shit, but it wasn't meant to be."

"Speaking of woo-woo . . . don't think I didn't catch-football pun for ya-you deflecting the conversation from your sister's concerns about your mental well-being."



       
         
       
        

"She's a master at deflection. The girl's got secrets. Ugly ones." His jaw tightened. "Ones she should've come to me about. Instead, I had to get an earful from a pissed-off Russian. So what Dallas thinks she ‘saw' in me the past year? Partially true. But she confused unhappiness with controlled rage."

What the holy hell was going on?

"I can't get into the details. It's better that you don't know"-he flashed his teeth-"from a legal standpoint. The good news? Dallas is . . . well, Dallas again. I don't have to keep my distance from her now that some time has passed."

"This has to do with Igor?"

"Igor did what needed to be done. I owe him. I've no doubt he'll be back at some point to collect." Ash clapped me on the back. "Ain't ya glad ya asked?"

"Hell no. But I'm not obsessed with digging out secrets like some female Lund family members. I'll probably forget this entire conversation by tomorrow." Total lie there. "I figured if I got around to asking about your woe-is-me attitude after we'd knocked back a few beers, that you'd tearfully confess you were still busted up over what's-her-face."

"Tearfully. Right." He snorted. "You mean Olivia?"

I frowned. "Olivia? I thought the ball-buster's name was . . . Victoria or something?"

Ash laughed. "You're really in the dark. Veronica-ancient news. Olivia . . ." His humor faded. "Long story and there's been way too much drama tonight already for me to subject you to more. Let's get our drink on."

He opened the door and I followed him in.

The bar carried that musty smell I associated with century-old buildings. We walked up a short ramp, pausing at the top.

I should've been checking out the space, but my eyes scanned the bar patrons until I saw Rowan.

The cheeky woman let her eyes scroll over me. From my boots up to the brim of my ball cap, then back down to linger on my mouth before her gaze reconnected with mine. Her smile? Sexy, secretive and a little naughty.

My body reacted instantly. Dick hard. Mind set on the one track of getting her alone and making her mine.

Ash and I snagged the two empty seats at the high-topped bar table. Immediately I scooted mine closer to Rowan's, leaning in to whisper, "Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart, because we won't be here long."

Amusement glinted in her eyes. "I never get to kick back in a dive bar with a table of hot guys. So cool the fire in your jockstrap, Lund. We'll get there."

I grinned at her. "I think Nolan got it right in calling you Red Hot." 

"What can I get you to drink?"

My focus moved to the waitress standing between Nolan and Ash. "What's on tap?"

The woman addressed Nolan. "This is why table signage is a waste of money. Guys like him?" She indicated me with a jerk of her head. "Expect the server to recite the beer list. It doesn't matter if the beer menu is written in colored chalk in gigantic letters across the enormous blackboard above the bar"-another jerk of her head toward the blackboard she'd described, directly behind her-"they're in a bar for personal service. That means spending the money properly training the servers to be friendly and knowledgeable."

Nolan let a smile slowly bloom on his face-the one I called you're-about-to-get-schooled. "Then we'll leave the ‘friendly' aspect of training to someone more qualified than you. Careful about using that black Irish temper on me, Simone."

Ash made the time-out sign between them. "Don't start, you two. We'll take a pitcher of Leinie's."

"And a glass of your finest Zinfandel for my lady," I said, not caring that it had sounded cheesy.

Simone addressed Nolan again. "Balls-for-brains over there does realize that no one at this table is drinking free tonight?"

Balls-for-brains? Yeah, she did have a hate-on for athletes.

Rowan tapped Simone on the arm to get her attention. "Just so we're clear . . . while I applaud your creativity, tonight it's my right to level any insults at him about his balls, not yours."

Silence.

Then Nolan pantomimed a mike drop.

Simone tilted her head at Rowan. "You? I like. Your glass of Zin is on me." Her gaze encompassed the table. "I'll start a bar tab for the rest of you assholes." She sauntered off.