Page 21 of Volt
We glare at each other for another moment before he finally looks down into his glass, muttering darkly to himself. I have no idea what he’s saying, and I really don’t care. The Grizz does well enough that losing an everyday regular like him wouldn’t really hurt the bottom line. But I also know it’s an empty threat. Tommy will never go anywhere else. That stool he’s in has a permanent indentation of his ass that’s not likely going to change anytime soon. Guys like Tommy and Dutch are creatures of habit and any deviation from their routine throws them all out of whack. He’ll never stop coming into the Grizz no matter what I say to him.
“The way you’re defending him tells me all I need to know,” he grumbles.
“Yeah, you don’t know shit, Tommy.”
“I know enough to know if that punk bitch ever sets foot in here again, I ain’t gonna let him get the drop and sucker punch me like he did,” he growls. “I’ll beat his soft ass if he ever comes around here again.”
The door to the bar closes with a hard thud, and a cold wind blows inside. And when I look over, my heart jumps into my throat as my belly starts to churn. I bite my bottom lip hard, trying to contain my excitement. I’m doing my best to avoid looking like a schoolgirl with a crush. But it’s difficult to hold it all in when I see Blake standing there.
As if noticing my sudden excitement, Tommy and Dutch turn around and simultaneously freeze. I see a tautness creep into their shoulders and feel a shudder pass through me. The last thing I want is another fight in here—mostly because I don’t want to see Blake get hurt.
“My soft ass is here if you want to do somethin’ about it,” Blake said, his voice low, his gaze blazing with fire.
Tommy is staring at Blake balefully, but I can see Dutch’s face and he looks far less certain. The air is crackling with tension, and the other guests all turn and look, some of them moving away from what they fear will be the epicenter of an old-fashioned barroom brawl. But Tommy chuffs and turns back to his beer.
“You ain’t worth it,” he says.
A corner of Blake’s mouth curls up into a grin as he walks in, passing them by and takes the seat at the corner of the bar he sat in the other night. It’s far away from everybody else that we can talk, but with his back against the wall, it also gives him a clear view of the entire room. And I’m sure he wants to keep an eye on Tommy and Dutch. And I can’t say I blame him. Those two are the kind who’d sneak up behind you and literally stick a knife in your back. The concept of an honorable fight is not something they’re familiar with.
I recall what he’d been drinking last night and quickly poured him a pint of Newcastle—or the shitty brown beer as Tommy had so eloquently put it. I walk over and slide the glass in front of him. He offers me a smile and a nod.
“Hey,” I say as I lean on the bar across from him.
He gives me a soft smile. “Hey yourself.”
He’s dressed in blue jeans, a white T-shirt, and a dark jacket and is kind of giving off this old-school Steve McQueen vibe. Like he’s low-key intense but cool and I think it’s kind of sexy. Seeing where my thoughts were headed—namely, straight into the gutter—I take a step back and pour myself a glass of water. It’s about the closest I’m going to get to a cold shower right now, so it’s going to have to do.
“So, change your mind about that nightcap?” I ask.
The smile on his face is small and sad. “Would you believe me if I said I actually came in for the conversation?”
I cock my head and give him a mischievous grin. “You drove all the way out here to Pineville for a chat?”
“All the way out here? Pineville is literally a twenty-minute drive from Blue Rock,” he tells me. “It’s not like you’re in Outer Mongolia or something.”
That makes me laugh. “Okay, fine, that’s fair,” I say. “So, you just came by for the conversation, huh?”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he asks. “It’s meant to be a compliment to the company.”
“And I appreciate that. It’s just so different from what I’m used to.”
He laughs softly. “Yeah, me too.”
“Hey, doll, can I get another beer?” Tommy says, his voice hard.
I roll my eyes but go to fetch Tommy another beer. I figure if I keep him plied with drinks, maybe he’ll leave me alone. It’s a long shot, I know. He’s going to be as disruptive as he can be while I’m talking to Blake, I’m sure. As I set the beer down in front of him, I see him and Dutch glaring hard at Blake who is ignoring them completely.
“If you’re thinking of starting something tonight, don’t,” I warn him. “I will call the cops on you guys.”
“You’d do that to us?” Dutch asks.
“In a heartbeat. I’m not going to tolerate you guys causing trouble,” I spit.
“You mean you don’t want us messin’ up your chance to bang that guy,” Tommy growls.
“Again,” Dutch adds.
“What I choose to do in my personal life and who I do it with is none of your business,” I fire back. “It never has been. And you have absolutely no right to question me about it. Nor any right to claim ownership over me. I don’t belong to you.”
