I look at my phone. The screen is a snapshot of my palomino, Duke. No new messages. There won’t be, unless it’s from my brothers. I set it on the counter so I can monitor the Campbell situation.
Silas hobbles to her. The guy glowers at everyone else, but she gets an indulgent smile. She’s a Hawthorne, so she probably tips him more than anyone in town.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“A nice cold beer.” She sings that too—off-key.
“Aw hell, you’re mixing drinks?” I can’t mind my own business. I’m here to mind hers.
Silas ignores me and taps on the counter to get her to quit glaring at me. “Any preference?”
“Shurprise me.”
Fuck me. “Campbell, you can’t mix drinks.”
“It’s nooo problem.” She turns to face me and has to adjust her stance. Her eyes are even glassier, and her cheeks are a rosy red. Even the tip of her nose is red.
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” I insist. “A mug of beer is more than one serving, and since you’ve already been drinking—a lot—you’re going to consume more beer than you think.”
She lets out a frustrated snort. “Ever get tired of trying to be smarter than everyone?”
“Ever get tired of going through so many jobs?” That’s a low blow, but I wanted a quiet night at home, to have a whiskey on the deck and read while the birds chirped, and it got too dark to see the words.
The view from Bootleg Tavern is not as nice as my deck, and it’s not every day a guy gets dumped from across the country.
She lets out an indignant gasp and sways backward before catching herself. “Ack-tually, no. I get tired of horrible managers.” She smacks her lips. “And I’m home for a job.”
“Your dad hired you?” Jamison said Campbell was in town, but she didn’t know why or for how long. Campbell, oddly, wasn’t talking, and neither were her parents. As long as I’m not dragged into the drama. I like the calm life I have now. I’d just like to spend it with someone.
A flash of anguish passes over her features so quickly, I might’ve imagined it. She cocks that damn hip again. “Yes, and I have a client.” She swallows hard and looks away.
There, I’m not seeing things. Something’s bothering her. Is that why she’s on a one-woman mission to drain the bar dry?
“Campbell!” one of the women calls. “Gonna shoot some more balls?”
“There are a few balls I’d like to shoot,” she growls, and the corner of my mouth twitches. She’s drunk, but if she can still insult me, she’s not that far gone.
Silas slides a frosty mug that probably should’ve been run through the dishwasher one more time in front of Campbell.
“Well, Durban.” She purrs my name, and goddamn, there’s no need to like it that much. “It’s been fun as always. That stick up your ass is really holding firm.” Just then, my phone screen flares bright, and her gaze dips down. Her eyes light up when she sees the name. “Natalie? That’s your girlfriend, right? The schuper smart girl you’re seeing?”
I’m a grown man, but I’m going to lie to save my pride. It’s too soon to come clean, and it won’t be in front of a sexy, drunk woman. “She lives across the country. Getting her second PhD. I send her science jokes,” I tack on like I want to be awarded for my efforts.
“That’s cute.”
Right? It’s a goddamn good boyfriend move. But I keep my mouth shut.
“Does she have a full . . . juicy . . . IQ?”
I nearly groan at the way she says it, all tease and temptation. I take a bigger gulp of my whiskey and swallow wrong. I cough and sputter.
She pats me on the back. “Sorry, smartypants. Didn’trealize you were new to drinking.” She picks up her beer, making the head slosh over the side, and saunters away.
I glower at my traitorous whiskey. Silas appears back in front of me. “Told ya she could hold her own.”
The alcohol is starting to hold her. “Check again after that beer.”
He harrumphs and goes to fill another order.
