didn’t know why it mattered, but suddenly Scott was determined not to let the bartender win this argument. Nobody in this one-horse town was going to get the best of him.
“I’m not leaving until I get another drink.” He crossed his arms over his chest and dared the other man to deny him.
“Maybe you should just give him one more,” Lexi suggested softly.
“No way.” Luke reached for the phone hanging next to the liquor bottles. “This loser is finished, one way or another.” He pointed the receiver in Scott’s direction. “I’ll give the police a call. Tell them I’ve got a live one making a disturbance down here, and let them haul you away.”
The last thing Scott needed was his brother finding him in a town bar tonight unannounced, let alone making trouble. Scott wanted to talk to Sam, but on his terms and in his own time frame.
Sam had moved to North Carolina several years ago and was definitely protective of his new hometown. Scott told himself he’d stopped caring about his brother’s opinion years ago, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go toe-to-toe with him tonight. He knew it would be easier to cut his losses and walk out now, but he couldn’t do it. Not with Lexi and Luke staring at him. Backing down wasn’t Scott’s style, even when it was in his best interest.
His gaze flicked to the front door, then back to the bartender. “I noticed a for-sale sign in the window,” he said casually.
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You in the market for a bar?”
“Someone could do a lot with this space. Make it more than some two-bit townie hangout.”
“Is that so?” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you make me an offer, city boy?”
“Why don’t you get me a drink and maybe I will.”
A slow smile curved the corner of the bar owner’s lips. He turned and grabbed a bottle off the shelf.
Lexi tugged on Scott’s sleeve. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to discuss a possible business transaction now. You might want to wait until the morning.”
“I think this is the perfect time,” Scott said and leaned closer to her, picking up the faint scent of vanilla. How appropriate for a woman who looked so innocent. “And you’re right, it’s none of your business.”
The bartender placed a drink in front of Scott and clinked his own glass against it.
“Be that as it may,” Lexi said, tugging again, “in order for a deal to hold up, there is the matter of due consideration. That won’t apply if one or the other party is proved to be under the influence of drugs or alcohol.”
Scott shrugged out of her grasp. “Honey, are you a waitress or a lawyer? Because you handle those big words a lot better than you do a tray of glasses.”
“That’s right.” Luke’s eyes lit up. “Julia said you were an attorney when she got me to hire you. Said you worked your way through law school waiting tables.”
“She did?” Lexi had worked her way through law school clerking at her father’s firm. She hadn’t waited on anything other than an airplane before tonight. Still, she nodded. “I did. I am. An attorney, that is. I’m currently taking a break.”
Scott eyed her. “As a cocktail waitress?”
Her lips thinned, which was a shame because he’d noticed they were full and bow-shaped. “For now.”
Scott couldn’t resist leaning closer again. “You might be the walking definition of the term ‘don’t quit your day job.’”
“You’re a jerk,” she whispered.
“Yes, I am.”
Luke clapped his hands together. “This is perfect.” He took a step back and flipped on and off the light switch next to the bar. “We’re closing early, y’all,” he shouted to the lone couple in a booth toward the back. “Clear out now.”
Ignoring the groans of protest, he pointed to Lexi. “You can write up an offer for the pretty boy. Better yet, there’s an old typewriter on my desk in the back. Grab it and you can make the contract.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think—”
“I’m not asking you to think,” Luke barked. “You’ve broken a half-dozen glasses tonight. If you want to keep this job, get the damn typewriter.”
She threw a pointed glance at Scott. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Looking into her bright eyes, the only thing he could think of was that he wanted to kiss her senseless. But he sure as hell had a longer list of things he didn’t want.
He didn’t want the botched arrest at the U.S. Marshals Service that had taken his partner’s life and put Scott on forced administrative leave. He didn’t want the resignation letter burning a hole in his back pocket. He didn’t want to go back to his empty condo in D.C. and stare at the yellow walls for days on end. He didn’t want to feel so helpless and alone.
“Don’t tell me you’re all talk?” Luke slapped a wet towel onto the bar as he spoke. “I should have guessed you’d be willing to spout out big words but not follow up with any action. If you aren’t serious, get the hell out of my bar. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time with this.”
Scott spoke to the bar owner without taking his eyes from Lexi. “I’m all about action.” He picked up his glass and drained it again. “Lexi, would you please get Luke’s typewriter? We need to talk dollars for a few minutes. See how badly your good old boy really wants to sell.”
Chapter Two
Scott felt someone poking at him, but couldn’t force his eyes to open. “Go away,” he mumbled.
A shower of ice-cold water hit his face. He sat up, sputtering and rubbing his hands across his eyes. Water dripped from his hair and chin.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”
“I’m going to kill you,” he said with a hiss of angry air, then looked around. He was on a worn leather couch in a small office, the shelves surrounding him dusty and lined with kitchen equipment. “Where am I?”
Sam handed him a towel. “You passed out. Luke Trujillo called me at three in the morning, laughing his butt off. He said he offered you a ride, but you insisted you wanted to spend the night in your bar. When did you get back into town?”
“Last night.”
“You didn’t call. Does Dad know you’re here?”
“Not yet.” Scott covered his eyes with the towel, under the guise of drying off his hair. “I didn’t call because our last family get-together didn’t exactly end on good terms.”
Memories of the previous evening came back to him in full force. When he was certain he had his features schooled to a blank mask, he lowered the towel. “But I’m a big boy, Sam. You don’t have to worry about me.”
