“With?”
“Ice.”
“No wonder my head is killing me. Why would you give me that?”
Lumberjack’s eyebrows shot up. “Because you asked for it when I told you I didn’t have orange bitters, bleu cheese olives, or lemons, and I was all out of vermouth.”
“Youtold me you didn’t have it? So you’re who…the bartender?”
He frowned. “Yeah. I’m the bartender. Is that below your standards or something? I also own the place.”
“I didn’t mean it like that… I just…” I shook my head and looked around the room. For the first time, I realized the moose wasn’t alone. He had friends—a deer with big antlers, a bear, and some other thing I thought might be an elk. “Did you kill all these animals?”
Lumberjack folded his arms across his broad chest. “Is that a problem?”
“I’m guessing forthemit was.”
He walked around the bed and held a hand out to me—I was still sitting on the floor. I hesitated, and he shook his head. “It’s my hand, sweetheart. Not my dick.”
My nose scrunched up. “Crass much?”
“Rather be crass than condescending.”
I put my hand in his. “I amnotcondescending.”
“No?”
“No.”
He helped me to my feet. “If you say so.”
I brushed my clothes off. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”
Lumberjack pointed. “Maybe while you’re in there, you can pry the stick out of your ass.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re rude.”
He sighed. “Just go do what you gotta do, Red.”
“Red.That’s original.” I attempted to lift my chin into the air and keep a bit of my dignity as I walked to the bathroom. But the screech I let out when I shut the door was anything but dignified. “Umm…Lumberjack?” I was afraid to move.
Footsteps came closer on the other side of the door. “Is that supposed to be me?”
“Did you know there’s a giantdogin your bathtub?”
“I did indeed.”
The Saint Bernard tilted his head at me, curiously. “You could’ve warned me.”
There was silence for a few seconds, then, “Hey, Red?”
“Yeah?”
“Oak sleeps in the bathtub.”
“Is Oak the dog?”
“Yep.”