“Hey, Del.” I tapped on the bar. “You open for business?”
He turned, a bottle in his hand and frowned. “We don’t often see you here in the middle of the day?”
Shrugging I pulled out a stool and perched on the edge of it. “A cold one seems pretty good at this moment.”
“Draft or bottle?” Delaney’s hand hovered over the refrigerator door, already knowing what I was going to say.
“Bottle.” He pulled out my usual, flipped the top and placed it on the weathered bar in front of me. “You want something to eat?”
Glancing over at the booth I’d sat with my family and Tally a couple of weeks before, I nodded. “Why not. Loaded fries would be great.”
“You got it. Want me to bring them over?”
That was the thing about Delaney, what made him a great barman, he knew when you wanted to talk and when you didn’t. He had an instinct for it. Suddenly, though, I didn’t want to be alone.
“Nope,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll sit here if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He gave me a slow nod, watching me, like he was already readingthe shit that was going on in my head. “I’ll put your order in and be back.”
The beer was cold and bitter as I took a swig, the kind that bit at the back of your throat and settled in your gut. Swallowing, I looked around for a copy of the town newspaper but couldn’t see one. Good job I was in the mood for talking I guess.
“Be about ten minutes,” Delaney announced as he came back. “Frank is just setting up.”
“I’m your first customer of the day, then.”
“Yeah, it’s usually pretty quiet here at lunch, until Friday. Missy May’s tends to take more of the weekday crowd. How come you didn’t go there?”
He leaned on the bar, flipping his towel over his shoulder. His blond hair brushing his eyelashes made him look a lot younger than his age. We’d been to high school together and his dream had always been to own his own bar. In those days, mostly so he could drink booze whenever he liked. Clearly that thrill of the alcohol buzz at sixteen had worn off because you rarely saw him drink anything other than water or soda when he was working.
“Davis Quinton.”
Delaney laughed. “Didn’t want to talk about his prize sow for hours then?”
“Not really. We have business to deal with, too, but I’m not really in the mood for it.”
“How so?” As if on instinct, he wiped the bar where I’d dripped beer.
Shrugging, I felt like an idiot. How did I explain that ranch business wasn’t important because my head was full of a certain redhead. It made me sound like we were sixteen again. Not almost twenty-six and running a multi-million dollar ranch. “Just not in the mood I guess.”
He perused me for a few seconds and then grinned. “Women trouble.” It wasn’t a question.
“What makes you say that? You know I don’t do relationships.”
“Never said it was relationship problems, Wild, but then you kinda just did.” He came around to my side of the bar and pulled out the stool next to me. “What is it, she wants more than you’re willing to give?”
How wrong could he be, yet right at the same time.
“It was supposed to be just sex.”
“Would that be the redhead who works for Gunner?”
I almost dropped my beer. “How..?”
“I make it my job to know everything that goes on in this bar.”
Nausea rose in my throat as I remembered fucking Tally in the back hallway. Like I’d ever forget it, those images played on a loop late at night. Each time I’d had her was stored in the library of my mind. Every single one available for me to replay whenever I chose.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. There are no cameras in that little spot you found. If the power hadn’t gone out it would’ve picked you up waiting there and pulling her in when she walked down the hallway, though.” He chuckled, deep from the bottom of his chest.
