Page 21 of Country Contract

“I guess you’ll find out,” she breathes as she leans across the bar closer to me. I’m frozen under her gaze. What if she’s Medusa reincarnate, and I’m turning into stone as we speak? My brows furrow, and her eyes form thin slits as a smooth closed smile slides across her face.

“Stop harassing my customers!” Silas pushes me aside and stands in front of her. “Sorry about that darlin’, he puffs up like that from time to time. What can I get for ya? Drink? Food?” Silas is putting on more charm than usual. Taking a moment, I look over the two—they’re fitting. Her goth look to his grunge. I know their attitudes are on par, too.

It doesn’t sit right with me.

“She wants the brisket, corn salad, and some water,” I state, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t harassing her; I was getting her order. You were busy.”

“I’m not busy,” he says to me without looking. “That’ll be right up.” He pours her water and sets it in front of her on a coaster. “Anything else?”

She shakes her head with a sweet smile. “No thanks.” All purr, no hiss.

Silas walks backward toward the kitchen, giving her an easy smile before turning away.

I grab my tool bag off the floor and sling it over my shoulder. “So, you don’t work here? Just an impostor?” I hear the tapping of her nails over the noise of the bar.

“I help out wherever needed around here.”

“Didn’t seem like much help at all,” she quips.

I don’t want to go at it with this girl any longer, especially when I can tell my buddy already has an interest in her. This means while she’s in town, I might have to see her more than I’d like. I round the corner and start to walk past her, giving her a curt nod.

She brings the water to her lips and takes a long pull, her throat working as she swallows. She holds direct and hard eye contact with me while doing so before pulling the lip of the glass away. I think she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Gooseflesh runs up my arms. She’s not melting, but she’s making me feel like I might.

I grimace, and she gives me a quick, satisfied look. Before she can do anything else, I turn and leave for home.

Chapter 9

Harlow

Whatever is in the water of this small town is working. The men here are to die for—I haven’t seen an ugly one yet. If I was on the hunt, this place would be a prime location. First, it was the property, then the alley, and now this bar. The owner, the patrons, it’s unbelievable.

My outfit seemed to stand out before getting here. But the owner of this place, Silas, has a somewhat similar fashion sense. He’s wearing a black band T-shirt, a worn-out gray flannel, and a leather necklace with two old rings on it. I already thought Hunter was a widow, so I don’t want to assume this guy is one. The forlorn look on his face when he thinks no one is looking has me thinking I might be right.

He has the kind of hair most women would die for—brown with natural lighter tones, long with a slight curl, healthy as all get out. I bet he uses a three-in-one body wash.

He brought my food and then kept busy with his regulars. His eyes travel back to where I sit every now and then, quirking his head as if to ask,need anything?I’ve just givenhim slight shakes of the head to let him know I’m fine. While I eat, I look over one of my manuscripts. Before I know it, my attention has officially been stolen by some messy but catchy words.

Silas steps in front of me, giving the bar top a knock. Three small glasses are set in front of me. Each one holds a different hue of brown ranging from almost black to a light amber.

“Sorry for interrupting, but I thought I would bring you a drink. Do you drink beer?” He’s leaning on his elbows, taking a peek at the fat stack of papers I have clipped together.

“I do. Tell me about these.” I dog-ear the edge of the page I’m on and click my pen, setting it aside. Looking at the three drinks in front of me, I pick up the dark one first. The cup is cute, it looks like a mini goblet. If this town wasn’t so small, I’d probably steal it. Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I smell it has a rich aroma with a hint of maybe cinnamon or nutmeg.

“Well, I wouldn’t start with that one. That’s the boldest of the three. When you drink beer, what is your go-to?” This man is a knockout—all hard creative energy. Bold, just like the dark beer in front of me.

“I like most beers, just not too many IPAs. Love a good summer shandy in the heat of summer, a porter during the winter, and in between, mostly wine.” He smirks and a moth flutters in my stomach for a moment. Am I so far out of the dating game that a small smile from a hot man sets me off?

“Start with the blonde then; she’s the last of my summer batch. Delicious, light, and great for the straggling hot days we’ve had out here.” He breaks away from me for a moment and comes back with a matching set of cups. Being theowner of this place must come with the perk of having an occasional drink with his customers.

I notice when he grabs the blonde cup that his right hand has a tattoo on it. A spider lily, with smaller ones at his wrist, the stems all coming from a thick black band with Roman numerals in the negative space. It’s dark and beautiful. Silas holds the glass up in the air, and I clink mine to his before taking in half of its contents. The brew is light and refreshing with a hoppy bite at the end, but not sour.

“A little too hoppy for me, but good.” I take down the second half of it, wishing I had something salty to offset the taste.

“Hoppy isn’t for everyone,” he chuckles.

“Tell me about your town, how long have you been here?” I ask. He looks me over thoughtfully, surely wondering where I’m from.

“Born and raised. Most of us are. Those who have joined our community usually do so by marriage. Not a lot of outsiders. A few, but not many.”

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