Page 180 of Lost Then Found
He lets out a loud laugh, tossing the rag over his shoulder. “What can I say? The people love me.”
Riley’s always been the same—fast with a joke, louder than necessary, and somehow still likable despite all of it. The kind of guy who could charm the pants off you while selling you a watered-down whiskey and make you feel good about it. Our families have never been close, but Riley’s never given me a reason not to trust him, so I don’t waste my time second-guessing it.
“What’ll it be?” he asks, reaching for a clean glass.
“Lemon drop and a ranch water.”
He raises an eyebrow, already grabbing the bottles. “Lemon drop? That for you?”
I shoot him a look.
“I’m fucking with you,” he says, his shit-eating grin stretching wider as he starts pouring. “You here with Lark Westwood?”
I pause. Just long enough for him to catch it. My jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
Riley lets out a low whistle. “Damn. Good on you, man. She’s a smokeshow.”
I glance over my shoulder. She’s in the booth now, legs crossed, hair a little messy—looking way too pretty for a place like this.
“I know,” I say, because there’s no use pretending otherwise.
He lines up the lemon drop and slides it across the bar like he’s done it a thousand times. “What’s she doing with such an ugly motherfucker?”
I bark out a laugh as I grab the drink. “Must be my sparkling personality.”
He pours a tequila shot for the guy next to me, still smiling like this is the most fun he’s had all night. “Nah. Bet it’s the truck. Women eat that shit up.”
“You should try it sometime.”
“No, thanks. I like to keep expectations low,” he shoots back. “Helps with the disappointment.”
I shake my head, grabbing the drinks. “You’re a damn mess.”
He crosses his arms. “She’s the owner of the Bluebell, right?”
“Figures.” He scratches his jaw, like he’s debating saying something. “My dad’s been running his mouth about the place. Some bullshit about permits and property lines. You know how he is—starts talking and half the town gets nervous.”
I keep my face neutral, but I file it away. “He sniffing around?”
“Nothing official. Just noise, for now.” Riley shrugs. “Thought I’d give you a heads-up, though.”
I nod once, pull out my phone under the bar, and fire off a quick text to Miller:Hart sniffing around Bluebell. Permits. Can you dig?
Her reply comes seconds later:I’ll see what I can find.Also,haveyou defiled Lark yet or are you still on that cowboy gentleman bullshit?
I shake my head, biting back a smile.
God bless Miller and her inability to mind her business.
I reach for my wallet, but Riley shakes his head. “Heard you’re back from the military, is that right?”
“Couple months now.”
He tips his chin, like that’s all he needs. “Drinks are on the house. Thanks for your service, man.”
I pause, then lift the glass, meet his eyes. “Appreciate it.”
Riley jerks his chin toward the back booth, casually wiping down the bar. “You might wanna get back to your girl.”
