“Noted.”
“So, what brings you to Spoon?”
Here we go.
“Work,” Jake said. “I’m with Regional First. Handling some accounts in the area.”
Tucker’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. “You’re the guy working with Wes.”
Not a question.
“Word sure does travel fast around here.”
“Small town. And Wes is... well, people care about him.” Tucker wiped down the bar, casual. “You gonna help him or hurt him?”
Jake met his gaze. “Help. If he’ll let me.”
Tucker considered that, then nodded. “Good. He’s stubborn as hell, but he’s a good man. He deserves a break.”
“Seems like everyone in this town thinks so.”
“Because it’s true.” Tucker straightened, glancing toward the door as a couple walked in. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
He moved off to greet the new customers, and Jake took a sip of his beer. It was cold and domestic—something he didn’trecognize but tasted far better than the overpriced craft stuff in Atlanta.
The jukebox kicked on. Some ‘90s rock song Jake vaguely recognized. Cal glanced over, caught Jake’s eye, and nodded like they were sharing a secret.
Jake nodded back, perplexed.
The wings arrived, and Jake nibbled, half-focused on his phone, half-aware of the surrounding bar. The couple Tucker had greeted were laughing at a booth. In the back, the dartboards chirped, lights flashing as players racked up points.
It was...comfortable. The kind of place where everyone knew everyone, where a stranger stood out but wasn’t unwelcome.
Jake was finishing his second beer when the door opened again, accompanied by a stark, cold draft.
He glanced that way.
Wes Dalton stood in the doorway, scanning the room. He’d cleaned up well since yesterday—wearing a crisp flannel shirt, his beard trimmed, his hair still slightly damp like he’d recently showered. He looked–
Pretty damn good, Jake thought.
But he also looked defeated.
Their eyes met.
Wes’s weary expression shifted—recognition, then something Jake couldn’t place. Annoyance, maybe. Or resignation.
He crossed to the bar, not looking at Jake, and took a seat two stools down.
Tucker appeared immediately. “Wes. Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
“Yeah, well.” Wes rubbed the back of his neck. “I needed to get out of the house.”
“How’s Henry?”
“Good. Asleep.”
“Good.” Tucker grabbed a glass. “Your usual?”
