“I know.”
His head snapped over, eyes meeting hers.
“Magnus told me you quit. He also told me you don’t have a job lined up. Figured you’d have some free time.”
What could he say to that? She’d pegged him accurately, which meant if he declined, she’d probably take it personally.
“Yeah, I can drive you.”
“Maybe we could grab lunch before or after.”
He swallowed again, and he was sure it was loud enough for Ava to hear. “Maybe,” he muttered, glancing out the window.
Ava’s hand settled on his forearm, drawing his attention. He stared at it for a moment, curious why his cock twitched. Her fingers looked ridiculously small against his arm, accentuating the significant difference in their sizes. At six feet three inches, Trey wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination. Ava had to be a solid foot shorter and probably one hundred pounds lighter. He couldn’t imagine she weighed one hundred pounds soaking wet.
Since when do you catalog a woman’s physical attributes?
That was a damn good question. One he did not have an answer for. Sure, he found her cute in a little-girl kinda way—Okay, that was a total fucking lie. Trey did not see a little girl when he looked at Ava. He saw a strong, beautiful woman. There was nothing childlike about her, and he figured that had something to do with the life she’d lived, the hell she’d survived.
However, he didseeher. Enough that he was questioning why there was a tightness in his groin. He knew it damn sure wasn’t because he was repulsed by her touch, because he certainly didn’t have the urge to extricate his arm. So what the fuck was it?
“I’m glad you came by the other night. Magnus was in a mood. I think he needed to see you.”
Trey’s gaze darted out the window. He had nothing to say to that. What Magnus needed was no longer Trey’s concern. He couldn’t let it be. This woman was the reason he needed to move on. He saw the way Magnus looked at her, knew he cared for her more than a friend would. With Trey out of the picture, they would have a real shot at seeing if something might happen between them. And once they figured that out, they could find another man who would complete the triad Magnus longed for.
And the thought of either of them with another man…? That doesn’t make your gut churn?
Thankfully, the door swung open, effectively silencing the stupid little voice. Magnus walked in, his eyes immediately focused on Ava’s hand resting on Trey’s arm.
The only reason he didn’t pull away was so he didn’t make it awkward. It was nothing. She’d been thanking him for Magnus’s sake.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Magnus asked Ava, a smile forming as he stepped closer.
“I work here now,” she chirped.
“Is that right?”
“Yup. My first appointment is next Tuesday. Trey said he’d take me.”
Trey felt the heat of Magnus’s gaze, but he refused to meet his eyes. Instead, he pushed to his feet and stepped back. Ava’s hand fell away from his arm, the absence of her touch more disappointing than he’d expected.
“I’ve got shit to do,” Trey said, refusing to look at either of them.
He really didn’t have anything to do, but he’d damn sure find something. He just hoped he could find something that would distract him from whatever that moment was he’d just shared with Ava.
At six o’clock, Trey was already perched on a barstool at Moonshiners. He had his first of many beers in front of him, listening to the mundane chatter taking place around him. He’d said his pleasantries to those he knew, but the small bar was mostly empty at this time of evening. Especially on a Wednesday.
The faces were familiar because they were residents of Coyote Ridge, the town built on land that originally belonged to Trey’s family. His uncle Curtis had parsed it out years ago and changed the name of the town to honor his wife, Lorrie. Generations of Walkers had grown up here, many of whom were still around, making up a good portion of the population of fewer than three thousand people as of the last census count. The real estate was relatively cheap, which was why there were rarely any homes for sale or lease. Those that were up for grabs were usually reserved for friends or family looking to secure the future of their children.
But the best part about it was the inclusiveness of the town. People greeted you when you walked down Main Street, they ventured out when the town council did one of its many festivals, and they asked about you when you were away for a while because they cared enough to worry. It was the one place Trey considered home, and he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
He appreciated that he could come into this bar and be greeted by people he knew. He could carry on a conversation with the bar’s owner, Mack, and get the juicy gossip since Mack was married to the sheriff, Jeff, who happened to be one of his cousin’s father-in-law. Or he could chat it up with Rafe Sharpe, who shared the bartending duties with Mack. Rafe wasn’t directly related to Trey but rather a branch off of the extended family tree. He could also talk to Bailey Weber, one of the waitresses. Her mother owned the bakery down the road, and Bailey filled in there from time to time. And if they weren’t up for conversation, there were a wealth of others who would venture in on occasion.
Fortunately for Trey, no one had come in yet, because he was the one not up for idle chitchat tonight. He was looking forward to catching up with Brantley since he hadn’t seen his brother in a while. Trey had spent some time with his other brothers, Cal and Griffin, as well as his three sisters a couple of weekends back when the family got together for a barbecue, but Brantley had been working a case, so he’d been MIA.
As though he’d conjured the man from thin air, the door opened, and Brantley sauntered in. He was wearing a chest-hugging black T-shirt, a pair of black tactical pants, and black combat boots. It was his outfit of choice, something he’d obviously gotten used to during his time as a Navy SEAL. Trey knew Brantley’s best friend, JJ, had been working on getting him to change his wardrobe since his return to Coyote Ridge, but apparently, she hadn’t set fire to all the clothes in his closet yet.
“Where’s Reese?” Trey prompted, referring to Brantley’s fiancé and partner on the Off the Books Task Force, a team of people who’d once worked as a specialized task force for the governor’s office. Since then, they’d shifted into the private sector and now took orders from Sniper 1 Security.
