“What can I get you?” I ask the next cowboy in line, who looks like he barely started shaving last week.
“Five Budweisers and open a tab,” he answers.
“Can I see some ID, please?”
He sets his elbows on the counter, leans in conspiratorially, and lowers his voice. “You don’t need to see my ID, sweetheart.” He finishes off with a wink that I’m sure he uses often.
I mimic his position and respond in kind, “Yes, I do,sweetheart. No ID, no beer.” Ending my sarcasm with a wink, just like he did.
His expression flips to annoyed. “Griffin and Knox serve me all the time without having to see my ID.”
“You shouldn’t lie. My mom always said that liars go to hell.” I actually don’t know for sure if he’s lying. Griffin didn’t explicitly say, “Don’t serve minors” when I got my brief training earlier, but I figure it was implied.
“Listen here, my business has never been refused before. I don’t know why you gotta act like a bitch with a stick up your ass. I got rights, you know.”
Shaking my head, I respond mockingly, “Whew. Such big words for such a little boy. But my answer is still the same. No ID, no beer.”
His hand whips across the counter and wraps tightly around my wrist, pulling me toward him. “What did you just say to me?”
Up close, I can see the spots where he still can’t grow facial hair. His behavior speaks to his entitlement.
His hand squeezes even harder, but I don’t let the bite of pain show in my face. If he wants to make me hurt, he has to work harder. I’ve had worse than this.
I ball my other hand in a fist, ready to send it flying right at this punk’s nose. Before I can carry out my plan, a shadow falls over me, and a large hand encircles my fist, blocking me from breaking any noses.
The complex scent of deep soil mixed with falling rain overwhelms my senses, like vetiver, but richer.
The kid across from me releases his hold immediately, and his lips become slack as terror enters his face. Everyone around him takes a step back, giving the kid a wide berth.
Following his line of sight, I almost have to break my neck to find the face of the shadow hovering over me. My eyes glide up a sculpted chest and strong neck. I have to blink a few times when I see his face. It’s identical to Griffin’s except for his eyes and a couple of scars decorating his face. His eyes are an enchanting meadow green that swirl with tempered rage as he directs that anger at the kid trying to manhandle me.
Knox Montgomery.
The scars slicing through his lip and brow draw me in, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching up and tracing the discolored skin.
I want to know more about him. I want his light green eyes to consume me. I want to know what it feels like when he runs his rugged hands over my skin.
My pussy throbs as I imagine what it would feel like to be with him. Would it be soft and sweet or hard and punishing?
He growls at the boy in front of me. “Did you just lay hands on my bartender, Huck LeBlanc?”
CHAPTER NINE
KNOX
Huck has always looked just like his dad and now acts like him, too. And he touchedher.
Raven Henry.
Her resume didn’t state that she looked like…this. Griffin came downstairs a few minutes ago to swap places with me and said that I need to introduce myself to our newest employee. I figured I would come out here and help, avoiding Raven the entire time. But instead, I find Huck acting like an entitled little prick.
The rest of the bar continues their reveling as my hand darts out, gripping the collar of his shirt. I pull him closer, bringing him halfway over the bar. Raven doesn’t take a step back but attempts to wedge her sexy curves between me and Huck and places her hand on my bicep.
“I’m okay. It’s okay. See?” Raven holds up her wrist for my inspection, but I don’t find everything okay. It looks like someone dipped their hand in red paint and grabbed her wrist. I can see Huck’s distinct finger marks that will later turn into bruises.
Raven finally sees what I see and attempts to cover it up. I grab her arm, just below the red skin.
“This looks anything but okay, Darlin’.”
