“After everything has been abated, you’ll get your keys back and can come in and out freely. You won’t be able to live here, or at least it would be hard to without a working kitchen.” He runs a hand through his thick, wavy dark hair then tucks his pencil back behind his ear. “But you can visit during the restoration process as long as it’s safe. My guy’s named Shane. He owns Red Rock Restoration.”
“I know them,” my dad pipes up, tying a garbage bag. “They did our neighbor’s house when her basement flooded. It was an excellent job.”
“Aye.” Asher comes closer and holds his phone out to me, unlocked. I gulp as he towers over my five-foot-seven frame. “Add your number and I’ll pass it on. He owes me a favor.”
I just stare up at him, speechless at his proximity. And shocked that he’s willing to do this for me. Thankfully, my dad makes his way over to us and extends a hand. I blink and takehis phone, adding my number quickly.
“Thank you for attesting to Olivia’s statement,” my dad says with a nod. Asher is at least five inches taller than my father and twice his size.
“Just doing my job, sir.” Asher returns my dad’s firm shake then looks back at me, taking his phone and placing it in his back pocket. “Even with the quicker restoration, with this being such a strict district, it could still take a few months. It won’t be a quick process.”
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you were the fireman on the scene when it happened,” my mother says as cheerfully as the situation allows. “A fireman who dabbles in construction—what are the odds?”
Asher nods. “Just a hobby.”
He turns to me. “You can grab anything you’d like to bring with you now. I have someone to meet before heading to the Horse and Barrel.”
He looks to my parents. “It isn’t safe for you all to be in here alone, so I’ll follow you all out.”
My mother is grateful he was on the scene and, truthfully, so am I. But sometimes when I look into his eyes I get the sense he isn’t choosing to help me. It’s as though he feels hehasto. Maybe it’s because he was here the night it happened, but still. I want to tell him that he’s under no obligation to help me, considering it seems to pain him to do so, but now is not the time to talk to him about it.
As my mom and I pack up some of my clothing and toiletries and a few personal items I don’t want to be without, I text the girls to take Ginger up on her offer from earlier. A drink and some country music with my girls sounds damn good. Especially when it means I can find the chance to speak a little more freely with one scowling firefighter who also just happens to be the ladies’ night bartender tonight.
CHAPTER 8
Asher
WADE
Good for the final fitting for suits next week?
ME
Yep.
WADE
Bring your pretty face and your good hair.
ME
I’m always fuckin’ pretty.
I tuck my phone in my pocket with a grin. Wade Ashby and his brother Cole, along with his brother-in-law Nash and Wade’s top hand Haden, were friends I didn’t expect to find when I arrived in Laurel Creek. I knew when I left New York that I’d have to keep my circle small. It’s been ingrained in mesince I was a child to never trust anyone. Though I soon realized that the Ashbys are a different breed.
I’ve been working for Rocco, the owner of the local bar, the Horse and Barrel, for a couple years, which is how I got to know them all. Nash used to be a big-time hockey player but came back to his hometown a few years ago and took over most of Rocco’s duties. He’s now my pseudo boss, though he isn’t in much anymore. It was the perfect job to introduce me to the town because, at one point or another, everyone ends up at the Horse and Barrel.
But tonight the bar is my base for watching Olivia find new ways to put herself in harm’s way. Which she’s been doing.All fucking night.
Drinking way too much sangria with Ginger and Cassie, which, for the second time in a week, is highly unlike her.
Toward the end of the night, Ginger, Cassie, and Olivia are the only women still here. They dance right through last call, and since Olivia has decided to wear the tightest, slinkiest lavender dress I’ve ever seen, she has the attention of every single man in the place. The front is high-necked with long sleeves but the back is wide open and looks incredible against all those copper waves.
Oblivia.Unaware of the way every man in here is itching to take her home.
I try to keep busy but every time she almost eats it in her four-inch heels on the way to the ladies’ room or the dance floor, I fight the urge to cut her off, toss her into my truck, and take her back to the ranch.
“Barkeep, one more?” I hear less than an hour before close. I don’t need to look up to know the voice from the end of the bar is Olivia’s.
