now cursing all women beneath his breath.
“I think this one needs a cab called in right about now,” Henry said.
The bartender, an older gentlemAn with no hair on his scalp but at least a year’s worth of hair on his chin, nodded. Without looking at the man in question, he sighed.
“One’s already on the way,” he said. “Gary gets pretty foul after four of his drinks. If I don’t send him off after that, he won’t pay the cabdriver when they get him to his place.”
“Good policy,” Henry admitted, impressed.
The man named Gary swore at the two of them but nothing that made sense.
“If you get him into the cab so I don’t have to, next drink is on the house,” the bartender added, annoyance clear in his voice. “I’d rather not deal with him tonight.”
Henry felt the now-room-temperature beer between his hands. It would be nice if he had a cold one. “Deal.”
He spent the next five minutes or so trying to get Gary to calm down. Even without the woman coming over, Henry would bet Gary could still have managed to get riled up all on his lonesome.
During the last two years, Henry had worked alongside men like Gary, known them like he knew himself. They were angry no matter the drink in their hand or the people at their side. The way they held themselves, the way they dressed, spoke and even held their glasses or bottles showed Henry men who were unhappy and, for whatever reason, wanted to stay that way.
Being around them was more than a job. It was an exercise. One that had worn him down to the point of exhaustion.
Which was why his interview the next day was important.
He needed a new routine.
Gary, however, didn’t seem to want anything other than his current mood. He grumbled and cursed as Henry took him to his cab. Henry watched after him for a moment. The night air was cool and apparently rare, according to the manager from his hotel. Henry almost considered going back to his hotel room and trying to get a good night’s sleep. But just as quickly, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. He had too much on his mind. Not to mention a free beer back inside.
It wasn’t until he had that free beer between his hands that a new wave of night air rolled in around a small group of people that Henry thought about the blond woman again.
It might have been a Wednesday, but apparently that did little to diminish the bar’s popularity. Ten or so patrons had eked in and were already either playing pool or sitting around, drinks in hand and conversations going strong. Finding the one person without either was fast work.
Henry wished he’d looked for the woman sooner.
Standing from a booth she’d commandeered in the corner, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen was waving at the new group of people who’d just come in. The long, curly blond hair he’d already seen was half pinned back, showing an open face made up of high cheekbones and a long, thin nose. Her lips were rimmed in pink. Even from this distance he could still see the green of her eyes as they moved from who must have been her sister Kristen to a man who must have been her arranged date. Despite what Henry had heard her say about the man, he was impressed to see her expression gave none of her distaste away. Instead she was exuding nothing but enthusiasm and politeness.
It made something in him shift and before he had time to be surprised at himself, Henry did something he wasn’t expecting. With one look at the empty second pool table in the corner, he straightened his shirt, ran a hand through his hair and started to walk over to the group. His sights set squarely on the woman with green eyes.
The sister picked him up on her radar the moment he was a few steps away. It didn’t stop Henry. He felt a smile pull up his lips and hoped it was pleasant enough.
He also hoped the blonde hadn’t already committed to her arranged date. Or else things were about to get awkward.
“Hey, sorry, about that,” Henry started, eyes locked on target. “Work called and I had to answer.” He motioned back to the pool tables. “But one of the pool tables is open now if you wanted a rematch.”
The group turned to him as a whole, but the blonde didn’t miss a beat.
She grinned. “If you really want to lose again, then who am I to stop you?”
Henry didn’t have to fake the grin that stretched one corner of his lips higher.
“Wait.” The sister butted in. For a moment Henry thought the jig was up, but then she laughed. “She actually beat someone at pool?”
Henry shrugged.
“Believe me, I’m not proud about it,” he said. “I even owe her a drink because of it. A drink that’s past due now.”
The woman, once again, didn’t skip a beat. “Then let’s fix that, shall we?”
She smiled at her sister, said a quick, “Excuse me,” and followed Henry to the bar. Without another word between them, she ordered a drink. It wasn’t until the group she’d left behind settled into a booth that she spoke.
“I’m assuming you overheard my conversation with the man at the bar,” she said, voice low. It was back to honey.
“I did,” he confirmed.
Her smile returned.
“Thanks for helping me out,” she said. “In my sister’s words, as the baby of the family, I never know what’s good for me. She thinks that’s Stanley, and I think she has too much time on her hands.”
Henry snorted. “My brother plays that age card on me from time to time, too. I know the pain.”
The woman laughed.
It was a very attractive sound from a very attractive woman.
“I’m Cassie, by the way. Thanks again for being quick on your feet. You saved my night.”
“The name’s Henry. And I wouldn’t thank me yet.” Riding a genuine wave of excitement, he leaned closer, careful to keep out of her personal space but just close enough that he smelled her sweet perfume. He felt the new grin seconds before he heard it in his own voice. “I’m actually really great at pool.”
Henry was looking through the passenger’s side window at the Eagle, trying to pretend he wasn’t thinking of a beautiful woman.
“This is one of three bars in Riker County worth their salt,” explained the driver and temporary tour guide, Sheriff Billy Reed. His cowboy hat sat on the center console between them. It was a reminder that Henry was in the Deep South now where cowboy hats could be normal even if cowboys in Alabama were few and far between. “The owner, nicknamed Hawk because nothing gets past him, also runs the bar and does it well. He makes a mean drink and doesn’t put up with any nonsense. Also has a memory of steel. Go to him once or twice and he’ll know your drink for life. And when to send you off.” The sheriff cut a smile. “I suggest
