Page 27 of Darlin'

"Yeah, JP," Miguel chimes in, cocking a knowing brow. Jesse rips his gaze away from me, stiffening as he looks down at Miguel. "Let the girl live a little. She's come a long way from..." Miguel pauses, glancing up at me. "Alabama, right?"

"Mhmm," I hum. "Good guess."

"I don't guess," Miguel says, winking. "I always know."

“Oh?” I perk a brow. “Is that so?”

Miguel smirks. “Yes.Always.”

Jesse clenches his jaw as he nods to the spirits on the top shelf. "Hey, princess, why don't you pour Miguel some Johnny, huh?" He taps Miguel's shoulder as I spin around, rising on my tiptoes and grabbing the bottle of premium scotch. "First round's on me."

"Why don't weallhave a round?" Miguel suggests, gazing darting between Jesse and Yeti. "What do you say?"

"Fine. Pour three," Jesse agrees with a grunt, and I retrieve three old fashioned glasses. I pour the scotch and slide each tense man a drink. "To The Sons." He looks down at Miguel as he adds through gritted teeth, "And our partnership."

"To Los Caballero." Miguel grins, tapping his glass against Jesse and Yeti's before taking a slow sip. He releases a liquor-infused exhale. "Ah...it never gets old." He glances at me. "Savannah, have you ever tried scotch?"

"I don't really drink," I admit sheepishly with a shrug. "I've had some sangria before; that was pretty tasty. Kind of gave me a headache afterward, though."

"Sangria?" Jesse asks, snorting. "What are you? Twelve?"

"Twelve? Seriously? Is that whenyoustarted drinking?" I flash him a smug smirk. "Well, that sure does explain a lot."

Before Jesse can return a comeback, Miguel sniffs his drink, musing, "It takes a mature palate to appreciate a good scotch." He slides over the glass. "But I think you might enjoy it. Here." He taps the rim. "Taste it."

"No." Jesse wraps his hand around the top of the glass and pushes it back to Miguel. "She's working."

"And you're not?" Miguel lifts a brow as his cell phone rings. "Double standards, no?" He pulls out his phone from his pocket, cursing in Spanish under his breath. "Please excuse me; I need to take this." His rich brown eyes burrow into mine as he adds, "I'll be seeing you around, Savannah." Turning around, he pats Jesse on the chest. "Tell Billy that we're still waiting." Jesseswallows as Miguel leans in and whispers loud enough for me and Yeti to hear, "We don't like waiting."

"Relax, Miguel, we're good for it.” Jesse clears his throat. "They should be back any day now."

"Better be," Miguel sings, answering his phone as he strides away.

"Fuck, man." Yeti lets out a long breath as if he had been holding it forhours. "Billy and Jim better get back soon. We don't need this shit right now."

I frown. What am I missing?

"Is something wrong?" I ask, wiping the counter. "Y'all are more tense than a couple of spooked cows."

"Nothing that concerns that pretty little head of yours," Jesse says, sipping the scotch in his hand. He sighs, closing his eyes. "Listen, princess, next time Miguel comes in here, let me know right away, okay?"

"Why?" I nibble on my bottom lip, curiosity piquing. "Who is he?"

"Trouble," Jesse says, taking a seat across from me. Yeti plops down, pointing to the draft beer.Freaking Neanderthal. Words? I don't know her.I roll my eyes and pour him a pint anyway.

"Jesus, man, I knew this was a bad idea." Jesse clicks his tongue, looking at Yeti. "First those fucking snakes, and now this? It's not worth it, brother. It's not."

"What is going on?" I cross my arms, trying to decipher his despondent tone. "What kind of trouble?" My heart drops. "Is something wrong? Is Beau gonna be okay?”

"Sure hope so," Yeti mumbles, chugging his beer. "'Else, we're fucked."

"What do you meanhope so!" My eyes widen with fear. "What are you talking about?" I whip my head at Jesse. "What's he talking about?"

"Fuck, dude." Jesse sighs, shoving Yeti off the stool. "What are you trying to do? Give her a fucking heart attack? Go have a smoke or something," Jesse grumbles. "Jesus."

"Yeah, sure." Yeti scratches his head, mildly hurt, as he strides away. "Good idea."

"Ignore him. He's a fucking idiot," Jesse mutters, shoulders slumped as he twirls his scotch around. "All of 'em are."

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