Page 118 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

Tyler ran his icy eyes from the tips of my socks to the crown of my head, surveying me like an elevator making a stop on each floor on his way to the top. It was no wonder women apparently fell at his feet; the assessment was scorching and deliberate. Not in a flirtatious way, but something more calculated. More so reading me like a book.

I squirmed free of Frankie’s touch, his fingers lingering down my back briefly. “So, what is it you guys do?” I addressed both brothers.

Pleased with the runaround, as if it told its own little secret in and of itself, Tyler perked up.

“I own a bar,” he announced proudly. “Best spot in Salt Lake.”

“Have you ever met a bar owner that alsobartendsat their own place?” Sam said.

“That must be fun,” Nat commented. “It’s very hands-on. I’m sure your staff loves it.”

“I like to know what goes on,” Tyler agreed. “Get to know the clientele, show my face, make sure there’s no funny business.”

Someone would have to be out of their mind to start a fight with Tyler Swan. He was scary as all sin and I couldn’t imagine a bouncer alive that was as intimidating as this man.

“What he means is,” Sam interjected, “he likes to know what women are coming in and out of his bar every night and make sure they get thevery bestcustomer service experience possible.”

“Is that wrong of me?” Tyler looked to everyone but his brother, outstretched palms like landing pads. “I’m very passionate about those Yelp reviews.”

“Echo is a full-service man,” Mateo testified. “Always has been.”

“I’ll cheers to that.” Tyler stretched his long body across the coffee table and tapped his beer to Mateo’s. His shirt sleeves bunched up his arm revealing twists and curves of a serpent and a sword inked into his skin.

“What about you?” I reinvested in Sam with glowing curiosity. His friendly copper gaze reminded me of a puppy. “If he’s the bartender you must be the…sous-chef?”

Frankie cackled beside me. “Wink once put his instant mac in the microwave without the fucking water. Almost burned the entire barracks to the ground in three-and-a-half minutes.”

“Like you never sat post all night and did some dumb shit when you got back in.” Sam laughed. “Actually now that I think about it, Pike, weren’t you the sorry son of a bitch that fell asleep and missed call time not once, or twice, but on three separate occasions? We gotfuckedfor that.”

“Cicadas put me to sleep.” Frankie shrugged. “Not like you could fly anywhere without a pilot. I needed to be alert.”

“Sonota sous-chef,” I surmised, giving Frankie’s thigh a teasing squeeze.

“You’re a saint for dealing with him, Ophelia.” Sam said. “I work for a nonprofit called War Paws. We pair animals with veterans who need support after returning home from areas of conflict.”

“Ilovethat.” Nat brought her palm to her heart. “Rescues?”

“Always,” Sam promised.

“I’d have a new dog every week. I couldn’t stand the cuteness.”

“I did adopt my first week,” Sam confessed with a short laugh. “Big guy spoke to me. I have a soft spot for the labs.”

“I want one.” Nat turned to Mateo, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We should go to the shelter next week, babe.”

Mateo’s steely stare zeroed in on Sam across the room. “We’ll see, honey.” He caressed her back and turned a middle finger toward his friend that everyone but Nat could see.

“Do you want dogs?” Frankie asked me.

Again, all eyes in the room trained on the two of us. Such a mundane question, yet so loaded given the circumstance.

“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling perplexed. “Yeah, I want dogs.”

“Not for nothing, Ophelia. If you’d have said no I would probably have to kick you out.” Mateo shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” Then, a second later, he amended, “Wait, yes I do.”

“No one’s kicking anybody out,” Frankie argued.

Nat stood from the couch, clearing the plate of cheese and crackers and the empty bottle of wine off the table. “I am,” she declared. “I’m kicking us out for the night. You boys try not to get into too much trouble before tomorrow. Coming, Phee?”

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