Page 62 of Will Bark for Pizza
“She’s one of the Masons, that’s all.”
“Christ on a cracker, isshethe one who fell in the lake?”
It was eerie how perceptive Nana was. I suppose it was one of the reasons she was worth millions.
“That was a coincidence.”
“The redhead, right?”
“Kira.”
“You’re picking me up from the Denver airport Sunday.”
“You don’t need to come, Nana.”
“Just booked my ticket.”
“Already?”
“I’ll text you my itinerary.”
“I don’t have anywhere for you to stay?—”
“I’ve got it covered. And Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep it in your pants until I get there, mkay?”
The call ended as a motorcycle pulled into the parking lot, taking a narrow spot in front of my truck. Thoren pulled off his helmet and hung it from the handlebar. He caught sight of me and nodded a hello.
I turned my phone to silent, shoved it in my shirt pocket, and got out of the truck.
“It’s fucking strange seeing you all over town,” Thoren said, sporting a grin as we headed to the front door. “Beckett Campbell living in my hometown. Never thought you’d settle somewhere small.”
“Small town life is growing on me.”
“You haven’t been here long enough for the town to decide they know all your shit. Tell me how you feel after that happens.”
I held open the door. “You ever moving back?”
“Nah,” Thoren said. “Nothing for me here.”
Except his eyes zeroed in immediately on a brunette laughing in the corner. The woman I didn’t recognize was huddled with Aspen—and Kira.
Fuck, Kira washere.
I froze behind Thoren.
“You two dumbasses coming inside or you just going to stand in the doorway and let in the flies?” Luke slapped me on the back of the shoulder, breaking the trance before Kira had a chance to spot me. “You’re late.”
“Took the scenic route,” Thoren said, clearing his throat as I followed them both to a high-top near the bar.
“Who’s that?” I asked Thoren.
“A ghost,” he mumbled, taking a seat that allowed him to put his back to the brunette.
Kira glanced my way as I pulled out the seat adjacent to him, our gazes locking for a single heartbeat. Her long red hair was tied back in a wavy ponytail high up on the crown of her head. One side of it hung over her shoulder. I followed the path of that long hair down the side of her face, her neck, her collarbone, right to the low cut of her tight teal shirt where a silver necklace dangled into her cleavage.
