“They’ve gotta figure this shit out,” Reese said on a heavy exhale. “Preferably sooner rather than later.”
“They will. Eventually. But probably not tonight.” Brantley was shaking his head. “She’s too stubborn. It’ll have to be on her time, when she’s ready.” There was a hint of a smile. “But I figure Baz knows that. He’s just doin’ his part, puttin’ in the effort to prove he’s not like the jackasses she usually goes out with.”
“You think he’s in love with her?”
“Oh, yeah. No doubt about it.”
Reese wanted to say that was fast, but he held his tongue. He certainly wasn’t in a place to pass judgment. Considering how quickly and how hard he’d fallen for Brantley, he’d be a hypocrite to do so.
“We’re stayin’ till midnight, right?” Brantley asked as he pulled into the packed parking lot of Coyote Ridge’s one and only bar.
“Yeah.” Reese glanced at him, raised a brow in question. “Why?”
“Just wonderin’.”
Finding the parking lot completely full, Brantley got creative, making his own parking space in the adjacent field. Two more vehicles were pulling in behind them, doing the same thing.
Once the truck stopped, Reese reached for the door handle but came up short when Brantley grabbed his arm, pulled him back.
He fought his natural instinct to look out the window to ensure no one was watching. It was something that made him feel incredibly guilty—kissing someone you loved in public shouldn’t require forethought—but Reese still did it. Or had the urge to do it.
Somehow he managed to keep his eyes on Brantley, but it wasn’t easy.
“I’ll suffer through for you,” Brantley whispered, leaning in, his breath fanning Reese’s lips.
“Will you?”
“Yep. I’ll keep my hands and my lips to myself, even. But you’ll make it up to me when we get home.”
In a daring move, Reese licked Brantley’s lower lip but pulled back quickly. “Deal.”
Smiling at Brantley’s guttural groan, Reese climbed out of the truck, walked around to meet him. After a trek, they were finally walking into Moonshiners, a place frequented by the residents of the small town, revered by pretty much everyone.
As far as Reese was concerned, this was a home away from home, a place he felt welcome, one he didn’t mind kicking back and relaxing in. He figured that had more to do with the people than the décor, because God knows the inside could use a fresh coat of … everything.
He wasn’t sure whether Michael “Mack” Schwartz, the proprietor, had updated the interior since the walls were originally erected, whenever that was. The wood paneling was worn smooth and grayed, the floor the same. Tables and chairs—all mismatched at this point—had seen plenty over the years, but they still remained intact, kept in decent condition.
Now the bar, on the other hand … that was kept pristine, waxed and shined, with old stools discarded and new ones added whenever they were needed. Since it was the heart of the place, Reese figured Mack probably had an attachment to it.
Behind the bar tonight, Rafe Sharpe was manning things, a rare smile on his boyishly handsome face.
“Where’s Mack?” Brantley asked, squeezing into a vacant spot to order a couple of beers to start them off.
Rafe never stopped moving. “Took the night off.”
“The sheriff takin’ the night off, too?” Brantley asked, referring to Mack’s husband, Jeff Endsley.
“Think so.”
“Seriously? Busiest night of the year?” Reese chuckled. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“Tellin’ me.” Rafe’s grin widened. “So tip big tonight, will ya?”
“You know we will,” Reese replied.
It was strange to see Rafe smiling, much less stringing together more than a couple of words. Since the day Rafe returned to Coyote Ridge, shortly after his brother Rex started major renovations on their family’s home, turning the infamous old farmhouse on Main Street into a bed-and-breakfast, Rafe had been slowly weaving himself into the fabric of the town once again. Not that anyone really knew much about the man who’d disappeared back when he was just a kid. Reese only knew the stories he’d heard, and from what he understood, Rafe, only ten years old at the time, had shot and killed his own father in order to save his brother’s life. It was a fucked-up story, one that had left Reese grateful to have had loving parents growing up.
“Would you look at this.” The words were spoken in a slow drawl chock full of wonder, surprise, and a hint of amusement.
