I had no vices. I didn’t drink too much like my brother. Drugs were a no. I didn’t gamble like my mom had, and I didn’t thrive off anger like my dad when he was alive. But I had a sweet tooth, and it raged.
“I’ll grab it for you,” he offered, “so I can keep chatting with an old friend.”
Cassie’s smile widened.
A bite of envy clamped around my neck. Because I wasn’t getting Teller’s attention? God, no. Because I wasn’t anyone’s old friend? Possibly.
Teller was waiting, challenge in his eyes. This was the story of my life. I butted up against six foot something bearded walls in cowboy boots while other girls got to giggle with them.
“Or you could move, and I can get what I came for and go,” I said tightly.
Cassie grimaced. She squeezed Teller’s biceps, and no, I did not want to know if they were as big as they looked through his green flannel. The irony that I was dressed more like him than her wasn’t lost on me.
“I’ve gotta get going,” she said to him. “See you around.” She turned her hazel gaze on me. “I sure do miss Flatlanders. I can’t wait until you get it reopened.”
It was my turn to flinch. That damn bar was becoming my life.Thanks, Scott. For all the backbreaking work. For the giant damn money drain. For leaving me with a mess.
“It’s a work in progress,” was all I said. I didn’t mind Cassie. She’d been a steady customer when Flatlanders had been open, and she’d never been catty like many of the other girls I’d gone to school with.
She sauntered off. Surprisingly, Teller kept his gaze on me instead of her rolling ass. Even I wanted to stare at her butt. I’d always admired Cassie’s body and her style. If I dressed like her, I’d look like a lumberjack trying on skimpy lingerie, only I didn’t have a beard.
Teller kept his beard trimmed close to his chin, never letting it get shaggy. It was nice. From what I could tell anyway.
“Excuse me,” I said in another attempt to get at my candy.
“How’s the cleanup going?” he asked, his tone neutral.
Cleaning up the trashed bar was about all I could do. Repairing it was a different story. But why would he care? “Worried about the competition?”
He scoffed and the flash of a grin made my belly flip.No. I could not be attracted to Teller. I wasnotlike every other girl in town. Growing up in Bourbon Canyon had shown me that.
“You can’t compare apples to oranges,” he said. “People come to Copper Summit for quality bourbon. They go to Flatlanders for cheap booze.”
“It worked for Scott for years.”
“Did it?”
His simple question poked at the troubling facts I’d learned since getting access to Flatlanders’ books. “Seems like that’s none of your business.”
“Nope, it’s yours now.”
My jaw tightened. The thought of renovating the bar and running it piled heavy on my shoulders until my knees wobbled. Flatlanders was the best chance I had at making a decent living, the only way I wouldn’t ruin my body working as a certified nursing assistant for the rest of my life. I already had tendonitis in both elbows, my knees ached after every shift, and the spot I’d tweaked in my back years ago was acting up. I wasn’t even thirty-five yet.
“Yeah. It’s mine now.” I gave the candy on the shelving next to him a pointed look, hoping he’d get the hint and move.
“How bad is it?” he asked softly.
I stiffened. It was none of his concern, and pretending to care wouldn’t get the information out of me. “Why?”
His mouth flattened. “I’m just asking. Flatlanders is a local business and everyone heard that Scooter destroyed the place and you got stuck with it. People care.”
An indelicate snort sneaked out of me. “Sure. They care so much they peer through the windows instead of asking and whisper behind my back.”
“You aren’t exactly approachable.”
“I’m approachable as fuck.”
He leveled a flat look on me.
