And when Lark walked away, that same blood cooled for the woman in front of me.
“Not tonight,” I told her, pushin’ away.
Tracy was still laughin’ beside me, her voice high and bright, like she hadn’t just been brushed aside. But I wasn’t a man who put on a show. If I wasn’t interested, I wasn’t. Simple.
I brushed past her without lookin’ back and headed for the only noise in this place that always made sense: the poker table. Cards slapped wood. Beer bottles clinked. Curses flew with half-smiles behind them.
Spinner, Bolt, and Rune were already dealing, the table scattered with chips, crumpled bills, and glass rings from too many beers. I dropped into the empty chair and grabbed a bottle from the center, ignoring the look Spinner shot me, wide grin, smug as hell, the kind he only got when he thought he knew somethin’ I didn’t.
“Look who decided to join instead of tryin’ his luck somewhere else,” Spinner said, leaning back like he had all night to poke at me.
Bolt tipped his chair on two legs, flashin’ that easy grin of his. “Guess the new girl didn’t bite after all.”
“Maybe she did,” Rune said, dealin’ with quick, precise flicks of the wrist, “and he’s still trying to recover.”
“Both of you shut the fuck up,” I muttered, tossing a few bills onto the pile. “Deal the damn cards.”
Rune smirked. “Someone’s touchy tonight.”
“Someone’s talkin’ too much,” I shot back.
They laughed, that low, rollin’ sound men get when they’ve bled together long enough to know what’s a fight and what isn’t.
Spinner’s ol’ lady hollered from across the room, voice cuttin’ as a knife. “Try not to lose so much like last night!”
Spinner grinned wider. “Hear that? Woman thinks she runs me.”
“She does,” Bolt said without missing a beat. “Same way Fiona runs me. Only difference is, I don’t waste breath pretendin’ otherwise.”
Rune snorted, tossing cards. “Yeah, you two are real damn inspirations.”
“Damn right,” Bolt said, throwin’ a card down hard. “Settled men, happy lives.”
Spinner raised his beer. “No reason to play with trouble when you’ve already got it at home.”
I grunted, hiding a smile. “You’re both gettin’ soft.”
“Maybe,” Spinner said. “But at least we’re sleepin’ regular.”
Their laughter rolled through the group, loud and easy, until the front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls.
Horse stomped in, heavy boots, heavier mood. The man looked carved from old storms, fifty-somethin’, shoulders like timber, jaw set tight enough to crack teeth. Mean on a good day, damn near feral when Brenda was pissed at him.
“Speakin’ of not sleepin’ regular,” Spinner muttered.
Bolt leaned closer to me. “Guess Brenda’s out again.”
“Fifth time this month,” Rune said, dealin’ a new hand like he hadn’t missed a beat. “I’m guessing she told him she’s done waiting on him to claim her.”
“Horse don’t listen,” Spinner said. “Still stuck in the grave with his wife. Brenda’s just the one diggin’ him out.”
I took a drink, swallowing slow. “He’ll lose her if he keeps pretendin’ she doesn’t matter.”
“Already is,” Bolt murmured. “Woman’s got a big heart but a mean line in the sand.”
Horse dropped into a seat across the room, slammin’ a beer down so hard bottles nearby rattled. No one went near him. We all knew what it looked like when a man fought the past and lost, the kind of loss that bled slow and dragged every small happiness down with it.
Rune’s eyes flicked toward the door again — subtle, but I caught it. The man was waitin’ on Amy without admitin’ he was waitin’. She was nineteen, maybe twenty now. Too young to drink in half the states but old enough to know better than toorbit a man who didn’t know a good thing when it stood in front of him.
