Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I realized he was talking, and I shook my head. “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked if you were okay. You’ve been standing here for ten minutes.”
I had?
“I’m fine. I was just thinking.”
He crossed his arms, the movement tightening his shirt even more across his chest. “Quite the show you put on back there.”
“Had to be done. He can’t get away with shaking people down.” I frowned. “I’ve never seen him before. The lady who is usually in that department was always great to deal with.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I owe you. He’s been giving me a hassle for the last week.” He lifted one eyebrow, his expression sardonic. “Must be nice to be on the mayor’s good side.”
I waved my hand. “I babysat his kids for years. The company I work for does a lot of building. I knew he wouldn’t allow that sort of thing to be going on.”
He pursed his lips. “Usually these things start at the top and work their way down.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Not in this case. He is an honorable man. A great mayor.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, Little Dragon. You’ve breathed enough fire for the day. No smiting me too.”
I laughed at his words, the sound feeling good as it burst from my throat.
“Now, how about that drink?” he asked, grinning.
“I think I said no.”
“That was before you put that little weasel in his place. Surely you need a drink now.” He leaned closer. “Your pretty throat must need to be refreshed.”
He was near enough that, once more, I lost myself in his gaze, fire and ice blending and holding my eyes. I could smell him. Fresh-cut wood and citrus. I felt the warmth of his body, and heat pooled in my stomach. He was intense and rigid. Determined and sexy. I needed to avoid that combination at all costs.
But I found myself nodding. “Sure. One drink.”
He straightened, looking as surprised as I was. Neither of us had expected me to agree.
“There’s a bar on James Street—The Tavern. Do you know it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
He backed away. “Meet you there.”
I slipped into the driver’s seat, hoping I looked calm. Something about that man made me feel anything but. I felt like a schoolgirl, nervous and fluttery. My legs trembled and my hands shook. I felt off-kilter.
I started the car with a shake of my head.
It was simply the aftermath of the confrontation. Nothing more.
It had nothing to do with fire-and-ice eyes, a lean body, and a voice like melted chocolate.
Nothing.
* * *
He waited in the mostly empty parking lot at the back of the bar, leaning against his truck. I was used to men driving trucks, but this was a large one. Black and massive, it took up a lot of room. I was average height but my legs were long, and I was certain I would have trouble scrambling into the cab. I slid from my SUV, leaving my jacket inside. I stepped out, grabbing my purse, and we rounded the building to the door and stepped inside.
I had to blink at the sudden change in light. The bar was dim, the heavy paneled walls dark from years of use. Scarred tables and booths filled the room, and a long wooden bar ran the length of the space. The overhead lighting was dull, the back half of the bar full of pool tables. The sound of the balls hitting the pockets, muted conversations, and the country music playing on the jukebox met my ears. It wasn’t overly busy yet, but I assumed as the hour grew later it would fill up. I knew on occasion my brothers and cousins came here for drinks and to shoot pool for a change of view. I had only accompanied them once or twice.
We slid into a booth, and the waitress appeared instantly.
“Hi, welcome to the Tavern. What can I get you?”
I smiled. “Creemore?” I asked hopefully.
She nodded, and the silver fox looked surprised. “Beer?” he asked.
“It’s awesome,” I assured him. “Made in Ontario.”
“Okay, make it two,” he ordered. “And some nachos. I’m starving.”
She scurried away, and we looked at each other.
“I’m Ava.” I offered my hand. “If we’re going to share nachos, I should at least introduce myself.”
His grin was slow and lazy as he shook my proffered hand. The smile pulled up one corner of his mouth, bringing out a dimple in his cheek. “Never said I was going to share.”
I had to laugh. “I’m certain you’re gentleman enough to do so.”
The waitress brought over our beers, and he lifted his, clinking the neck with mine. “No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman before.” He paused. “I’m Hunter.”
Hunter. With those wicked eyes, the name suited him. A couple of times when he looked at me, I felt like prey. I laughed internally at the thought. How ridiculous.