It didn’t matter which day of the week he came in here, it was always the same. A handful of people at the bar, a group congregating near the pool table, a few more scattered in chairs at the dozen or so round tables or the booths along the back wall. Everyone knew everyone. The only difference between Wednesday and Saturday was that there were more people. Not many, but more. And yes, they all knew each other, it seemed.
For Atticus, the increase in volume was a plus. He’d been in here enough times to know that the pickings around these parts were slim, so his chances of finding someone who might scratch the itch for a night increased immensely with more people. Unfortunately, most who came in for a drink were happily settled down with a significant other and a handful of kids. On the off chance they were single, they tended to be of the female persuasion, and Atticus didn’t swing that way.
He was hoping that would change tonight. Not the direction of his swing, of course. That was set in stone at this point in his life. No, he was hoping to find a handsome stranger he could create some sparks with.
So far, no dice.
As he sipped his beer, he listened to the conversations taking place around him.
“Anyone know the new guy stayin’ at the B and B?”
“I heard he’s some big-shot writer.”
“Why’s he here?”
“I saw him talkin’ to Rafe the other night.”
“He was with Bailey at the concert in the park last night.”
Atticus could hardly keep track of the people he encountered. He damn sure couldn’t be expected to keep tabs on those who were keeping the gossip mill running. But that was what these people did. If they weren’t talking about their kids or their jobs or the fact that the general store started selling boxed wine a few weeks ago, they were chatting about what people were doing.
He figured he had been the topic of many conversations recently, but these people were too nice to say whatever they were thinking when there was a chance that person might hear it. And since Atticus had become a regular of Moonshiners, he was comfortable knowing they wouldn’t be debating where he was staying, who he was doing, or where he came from. At least not in his presence.
As for the second one, the answer was a big fat no one. At the moment, Atticus’s sex life was on the fritz. Not for lack of trying on his part, mind you. Of course, he hadn’t put any real effort into it. Certainly not when Slade or Evan were around, and it seemed he was rarely anywhere without one or both of them.
Tonight, he didn’t have to endure those confused glances from Evan since he was at home having a birthday party for his daughter. But Slade was keeping an eye on him. Every so often, Atticus would feel his gaze burning holes in his flesh, but he had no idea what the guy was expecting him to do. He’d been on his best behavior lately.
Unfortunately, good behavior makes Atticus a dull boy.
It seemed the only thing he had time for these days was work. For the past couple of months, Atticus had been trying to find his footing with the task force. The people were great. Becs, Holly, and Elana welcomed him with open arms, offering to help him to get acclimated. Luca wasn’t quite as friendly, but he wasn’t hostile. Not the way he seemed to be with Becs. Atticus hadn’t spent much time with Charlie or Jay because they’d been focused on a particular case that had taken them out of town quite a bit. Brantley and Reese were cool, and they were helping him to get his footing. He appreciated the assistance since this was new for him. And then there was Darius. They called him NostraDarius for a reason. The guy was stupid-smart, and he kept his nose to the grindstone, not welcoming too much personal interaction because he was always learning everything he could learn about everything. Atticus no longer attempted small talk with the man.
That left Baz and JJ. As a team, they were pretty unstoppable. Separately … well, Atticus liked Baz. He seemed like a stand-up guy. The only one he was hesitant about was JJ. She scared him. But he liked her. As long as she was smiling, he didn’t fear she was going to beat him over the head with the closest blunt object.
Then again, most people reacted to Atticus with the desire to club him in the head. He’d been told he had that effect on people, but whatever. He happened to like who he was, and he made no excuses for it. When people couldn’t handle him, they generally told him so. At that point, he went on his merry little way. He’d been on his own since he was seventeen, and he’d done all right for himself without relying on anyone else, so why on earth would he start giving a shit now?
For the next few minutes, Atticus sat silently by and listened while Slade and one of his many cousins shot the shit. By the time his ears were on the verge of bleeding, he’d gotten the lowdown on everything going on in Happy Married Man’s world. He’d been so bored he’d honestly forgotten the guy’s name.
As soon as he noticed two more hot married men coming their way, Atticus knew it was time for him to make his escape. So, while Beau and Ethan Walker took seats at the table, Atticus hopped up.
“I’ll be back,” he told Slade, although he didn’t know whether it was true. He was hoping to find something interesting to distract him from the sameness of this place.
Luckily for Atticus, there were enough people at this small town watering hole that he could find plenty of trouble to get into.
As he was heading to the bar to get another beer, the front door opened. Several people shouted a greeting, making the guy flash a grin that had Atticus doing a double take.
Nowthatwas some serious man candy. Dark brown hair, whiskey-brown eyes, and a body built for sin. Exactly what Atticus was on the hunt for. Now he just needed to answer the pressing question: which way did he swing?
“Hey, Rafe. Can I get a beer?” the handsome stranger drawled.
“Sure.” Rafe looked at Atticus, popped an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take another.”
Rafe nodded and turned away.
“You come here often?” Atticus asked Tall Dark and Do Me, purposely using the cheesy line. After all, he wasn’t looking to hitch himself a husband. One night was about all he was good for.
“You use that line a lot?”
