towel and nodded toward her.
“How y’all doin’ today, ma’am?”
Ma’am?
She was only twenty-nine years old. Well...okay, she’d be thirty-one in six months, but very few people on this earth knew that. Still, nowhere near being a “ma’am” to anyone. She bit back her protest when she met his kind eyes, and reminded herself that she was in the South, after all.
“Would you like a menu, ma’am, or just something cold to drink on this hot afternoon?”
She finally remembered her manners and returned his smile. “Both, please. I’d like to see a menu. And I’d absolutely love to have a chilled white wine. Do you have a Sancerre?”
She flinched when she heard a sharp snort of derision to her right. A man sat in the shadows just a few feet away, at the short end of the bar. He was close to the wall, and there was a shot glass of amber liquid in front of him. She couldn’t see his face because of the camouflage ball cap pulled low on his forehead. His jeans were worn thin and covered with dirt and something that looked and smelled worse. She wrinkled her nose. His Western boots were crusted and cracked. He wore a sweat-stained dark green T-shirt that stretched snugly across his broad chest. Dark tribal tattoos wound their way down his left biceps, looking three-dimensional. His hands were rough, with dirt plainly visible under his short fingernails. A day’s growth of stubble covered what little she could see of his jawline. If she saw this guy in LA, she would have assumed he was homeless, or perhaps a day laborer. And he’d just snorted at her.
She pulled her shoulders back and sat up straight, but the bartender spoke before she could.
“Don’t start, Cole.” So the bum had a name. Cole sounded like “coal,” which was basically dirt. It fit.
“Come on, Ty,” Cole said with a gravelly voice that made her breath hitch for some weird reason. “A Sancerre? You really think this lady drove to Russell in her fancy red car to eat one of your famous Hide-Away burgers? Clearly she’s lost. Give her directions and send her on her way.”
The man behind the bar, Ty, leveled a glare in Cole’s direction. She still couldn’t see Cole’s face under the brim of his hat, but the two men were having some sort of unspoken conversation as they stared at each other in stony silence. Finally, Ty turned back to her, slipping his easy smile back in place.
“Ma’am, for white wine we have chardonnay and also pinot grigio, mostly because that’s what my wife likes.”
She liked the way his soft Southern accent made “wife” sound like “whahf.”
“Your wife has excellent taste. A glass of the pinot would be perfect, thanks.”
Her nemesis in the corner spoke up again. The angry rumble of his voice made her skin tense and tingle, setting her on edge. “You better tell her what vintage it is, Ty, and maybe offer to take her on a tour of the wine cellar. And don’t forget to let her sniff the cork.”
He turned his head subtly in her direction. She could see the hard outline of his chin, but she still couldn’t see his eyes.
Arrogant jackass.
Ty’s voice was no longer gentle. “I won’t say it again, Cole. Shut up or go home.” He turned back to Bree and looked chagrined. “I’m sorry, ma’am. My brother’s being more surly than usual. And he was born surly, so that’s saying something.”
Her eyes went wide. “You’re brothers? Really?” She made a point to smile at Ty. “But you seem so nice...”
Ty laughed as he poured the wine, but Cole just grunted and stared back down into his glass.
“Cole’s my baby brother. He’s not always as bad as he seems this afternoon. I’m Ty Caldwell.”
She took his extended hand and shook it. She was sure no one in this little burg had ever heard of her. “Nice to meet you, Ty. I’m Brianna. You can call me Bree.”
Her stomach rumbled, making her laugh. “You know, a burger sounds absolutely divine right now. Could I have one, medium rare?”
She glanced in Cole’s direction. She shouldn’t engage with him, but she just couldn’t resist. Tossing her hair over her shoulder like she used to do for the cameras, she raised a brow coquettishly. “That is, if my order meets with your approval?”
He turned slowly and, for the first time, raised his head to look straight into her eyes. The effect was momentarily paralyzing. His eyes were blue-gray. And they were hard. Flint hard. His features were sharp and handsome, but they seemed to be chiseled into ice. Every muscle line was tight and tense, like a cat waiting to pounce. The corner of his mouth twitched into a semblance of a smile that never reached his eyes.
“Ma’am, I don’t give a flying fu—”
“Jay-sus, Cole!” Ty seemed stunned by his brother’s actions. But Bree was grateful to have a target for all the anger she’d been nursing for the past twenty-four hours.
“Well, forgive my confusion,” she said with saccharine sweetness, “but just a minute ago you were so terribly concerned about what I ordered. And if you think for one minute that tossing profanities around will make me faint dead away, think again. I can out-curse the best of them. I doubt you qualify as the best in any category.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously, but he didn’t speak. Her anger gave her a rush of adrenaline, and her lips parted as she took a deep, steadying breath. His gaze flickered down to her mouth, and his chin turned to granite.
Ty looked back and forth between Bree and Cole in stunned silence as the atmosphere crackled with tension. Then he started to laugh.
“Brother of mine, I do believe you’ve just met your match. Miss Bree, I’ll be happy to go make that burger as long as you two promise not to kill each other out here.”
Cole’s eyes met hers, and she didn’t flinch from his hard glare. She nodded. “I promise. Thank you.”
Cole just turned back toward his drink with a grunt. That seemed to be his favorite form of conversation. Ty looked between the two of them one last time then nodded, apparently satisfied no crimes would be committed in his absence. He turned and walked through the swinging door that led to the kitchen.
Bree picked up her wineglass and silently cursed her trembling hand. It was just adrenaline and exhaustion, but it made her look weak. She raised the glass for a sip and slowly set it down again. The base rattled against the gleaming wood. Cole snorted again, and she lost it.
“Look...” She spun and pointed her finger at his rock-solid chest. She saw a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he hid it quickly and returned to his usual glower. “I’ve had a miserable few days. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m angry.” She left out “terrified,” because she thought he’d enjoy it too much. “I’m in the middle of nowhere. On purpose. But I at least expected a little freakin’ Southern charm. Is that too much to ask?”
This time his grin almost reached his eyes. He seemed amused by her outburst.
“Yeah, well, I ran out of charm a while ago,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “Maybe around the same time you did.”
She sat back and her
