Page 19 of Beast of Misty Mountain

“I’m not telling you where she is,” he says.

I meet his gaze. There’s steel in it.

“A woman needs space,” he continues, his voice vibrating in the way that it does when he’s about to start yelling. “You give her space. But if you hurt her or make whatever hurt she’s feeling worse? You answer to me. Am I making myself clear?”

I nod once, jaw tight. “Crystal.”

He doesn’t back down. “Because I don’t care how many years you served. I don’t care how many scars you’ve got or the hardships you’ve gone through. That doesn’t excuse treating Marilee so bad that she was practically in tears when I saw her.”

Hank keeps going, angry. “I don’t know what she saw in that grumpy face of yours, but she saw something. And you—” He lets out a slow breath. “You should know better than to mess with a woman like her. She’s the kind of woman you marry, not just have a good time with. If you can’t realize that, then you don’t deserve her.”

That lands like a gut punch. Not because he’s trying to be cruel. But because he’s right.

He turns back toward the bar, then pauses. “Remember what I said. You hurt her again, you and me got a problem.”

I get back into my truck and rest my hands on my knees and dip my head. An image of Marilee driving down the highway, music turned up loud and the wind in her hair as she drives away from Misty Mountain fills my mind. And it hurts like a motherfucker.

She wasn’t just a guest in my house. She made me feel alive again.

She was home.

CHAPTER 9

MARILEE

Kill the music!”

Hank’s voice bellows above the noise of the music and everyone in the bar. The song dies abruptly, leaving me and everyone else startled. I’m halfway to table six, carrying two pitchers of beer. Tessa and I have been working our asses off tonight.

I weave my way through the group of veterans and first responders who are packing The Rusty Elk tonight. Darts and Beer Night is a different vibe than other nights. Some tables are rowdy, while some are more subdued. The energy tonight, though, crackles. The tourist season is nearly over, and I think everyone here is as happy about that as coming for the monthly Darts and Beer Night.

Hank climbs onto a wooden chair with a pint in his hand. “Your attention, please!”

Everyone stops talking as they turn to give Hank their attention. Even the rookie crew from the fire station stops arm-wrestling.Hank clears his throat as he looks around at everyone crowded in the bar.

“This woman”—he points at me—”walked in three months ago with no bar experience but a smile big enough to convince me to give her a chance. She learned how to pull pints and keep up serving the tourists, and without dropping every other plate…” Hank pauses, turning to where Shenna and her boyfriend, Hurley, are standing. Shenna is famously clumsy and went through a job here and at the café, before finding a job working for Jack at the general store and where she wasn’t breaking things.

Laughter ripples through the crowd, and many of the men and women here turn to smile at me.

Hank keeps going. “Marilee has poured her heart into this job. She stopped a bar fight with a plate of free nachos and convinced me to add ABBA to the jukebox. Tonight is Marilee’s last shift—leastways that’s what she claims. I say Misty Mountain’s keeping her chair warm.” His voice softens as he turns to me. “Kid, you need a roof, a job, or anything at all, you look right here.”

He raises his pint higher. “To Marilee!”

Everyone raises their glass and calls out my name, and tears fill my eyes. I had no idea Hank was going to do this. I’ve loved being here and am genuinely sorry this is my last shift. But, like what happened with my ex, I can’t bear to stay somewhere where I’ll run into a man who broke my heart—and Misty Mountain is a very small town. I’m going to miss Hank and everyone else here.

Hank hops down. I push through the crowd and give him a bear hug. “Door’s always open, Marilee,” he rumbles near my ear.

It’s not lost on me that I’m leaving tomorrow after finding my place in the community here. Though I don’t know how else things could go.

Tessa plugs the cord back in for the jukebox. It splutters to life, and Johnny Cash’s voice fills the bar.

Work keeps me running around the bar, serving beer and food and getting well wishes from everyone here. I pivot toward the bar to fill a fresh order and nearly collide with Eli, a local firefighter. There’s a smudge of soot on his jaw, and he grins at me with an easy charm that makes me look twice. He flicks a crisp twenty toward the tip jar.

“For the prettiest bartender this side of the Cascades.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Thanks, Eli. I won’t tell Tessa you said that.”

Sami has been a godsend, letting me stay with her this week, but it’s still not the same as the cabin. I’m staying one last night, tonight, and then I hit the road tomorrow morning and will see where the road takes me.

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