“I can get my tires changed myself,” she sing-songs as she shakes up a drink. There are more staff working as servers to get drinks to people, and Silva even has someone else working behind the bar with her tonight.
“I know. I have time today, and an appointment. It makes sense that I’d take care of it,” I reply.
“Is this your dinner hour?” she asks suspiciously, pouring the drink into a glass and moving on to the next drink after setting it on the tray.
“Maybe,” I say, evading the question, even though she’s right. “Are you going to be a good girl and give me your keys?”
“Nope,” she smirks, waving down a server to take the tray out to a table.
“Silva,” I groan. “It’ll snow before you get new tires on, and I have time to do it now. The mechanics in town are also slammed. Please?”
“You’re adorable when you beg,” she says, glancing at a ticket and starting another batch of drinks. “Hypothetically, would you let me pay for said tires that you think I need?”
“Silva Marie,” I growl, annoyed.
“Don’t start making up middle names for me,” she laughs.
The sound draws shocked glances, and the bar gets quiet as the room focuses on her. Laughter is rare for Silva, but I love that she’ll laugh for me. I’ll gladly act the fool if it means more of this.
Someone walks over, and I see that it’s Ryann Darcy, our town librarian. The omega is in her mid-fifties, and all about stocking banned books, literacy problems, and reading incentives over the summer for school aged children. I’m a little shocked to see her at a bar, but Silva just kind of draws people to her, even when she’s grumpy.
“Sheriff Lynch, are you berating our bartender tonight? Dare I say, you’re also making her laugh?” she gasps.
“I didn’t laugh, it was gas,” Silva shrugs, a smile still playing on her lips.
She’s too fucking much and I adore it.
“Mmhmm. What are you attempting to accomplish?” Miss Darcy asks me, her lips pursing as if I’m a mystery she’s trying to solve.
“I want her truck keys so I can get her tires changed to brave the incoming snow,” I growl. “Silva is very busy, and the mechanics aren’t taking new appointments.”
“Does she get orgasms if she says yes?” Miss Darcy asks. Silva makes a strangled sound, while I give into a bark of laughter.
“Absolutely,” I agree adamantly. “Lots of them.”
“I don’t know why you won’t give him your keys, dear. You’re busy entertaining all of us,” she says. “He’s the most upstanding person in town as our sheriff. It’s nice to be taken care of once in a while.”
From what I understand, Miss Darcy’s husband died eight years ago, and she was very torn up about it. She took the job at the library expecting to die here, but has been thriving since.
There’s a certain kind of magic in our town, and it lies in our sense of community. We show up for each other, even when the person doesn’t know exactly what they need. Our town is also very gossip driven, though not in a malicious way.
“It’s not about that,” Silva groans. “I’m used to doing this kind of thing myself.”
“But you don’t have to!” someone else comments behind me.
There are teachers, dental technicians, nurses, business owners, etc. here tonight, so it is very public. Word has spread by this point that I’m dating Silva, and that it’s very new. This is a very dicey situation, but sometimes you have to face the lioness in her lair.
Hopefully I come away with all of my fingers and toes.
“No, she doesn’t,” I say. “Spitfire, you take care of everyone else, let me take care of you, yeah?”
Silva stares at me without any expression on her face, but her eyes are sparkling with emotion.
Her hand digs into her pocket before she hands me her truck keys.
“Someone make sure the sheriff leaves with some pizza,” she calls out. “The least we can do is feed him.”
Silva mouths ‘thank you’ as several women surround me, ensuring that I get pizza and soda to go.
