cowboy.” The blonde barmaid leaned across the three-foot expanse of aged wood. “I know just what you need to make your day complete.”
Devlin Murphy glanced up from his mouthwatering burger and thick-cut fries, the house specialty here in the Blue Creek Saloon. He wasn’t really a cowboy, despite the black Stetson perched on his head. She must be new and it’d been a while since he’d been in here.
Eight long months to be exact.
His brothers had tried to coax him to his old stomping grounds a few times since he’d gotten his feet back under him—literally. Devlin just hadn’t been ready.
But spring had come early in Destiny, Wyoming, and on this warm, late April afternoon, Dev decided it was past time to rejoin the world of the living.
He bumped up the brim of his hat and offered what he hoped was more of his old prowler grin than his recent pain-filled grimace. Not an easy feat thanks to the familiar white-hot fire crawling down both shoulders toward his elbows.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
“Just one minute.” She offered a quick wink and then turned away.
That simple gesture did nothing for him. Not anymore.
This time last year he would’ve been all over that suggestive sign, making sure he left with her phone number, if not the lady herself.
Now? Not interested.
And wasn’t that just another kick in the ass to go along with the butt whipping he’d taken since the helicopter crash that had left him and his eldest brother, Adam, stranded for three days in the Grand Tetons National Forest.
A helicopter he’d been piloting.
Thankfully Adam had come out with just a few bruises and scratches. Dev had been the one who’d spent five months in the hospital dealing with a broken leg and two broken arms. His recovery had been slow and painful, and while he could finally take care of himself again, he’d hit a brick wall with his physical therapy. When he bothered to go, the weekly sessions were painful, without any lasting results to show for his efforts.
Of course, sitting at a bar with a straight-on view of the rows of bottles waiting to be mixed and poured for the saloon’s patrons probably wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing right now. Not with three of his former best friends staring back at him.
Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker.
Yes, he and the boys went way back. Back to before he could even drive. But the four of them hadn’t pulled an all-nighter in six years.
That didn’t mean the desire had left him.
No, that stayed with him every day.
Just then the barmaid returned and placed a frosty mug of freshly poured beer in front of him.
Every pain-filled muscle in Devlin’s body froze.
“Here you go.” She offered a toothy grin. “You look like a man who’s earned a tall, cold one.”
Dev kept his gaze glued to the glass, the golden color calling to him like buried treasure to a weary pirate. White frothy foam lapped against the rim while beads of condensation chased one another down the length of the mug until they soaked the paper napkin below.
He swallowed, his forearms pressing hard into the rolled edge of the bar as his fingers curled into tight fists. A deep inhale through his nose caused the yeasty, bitter flavor he still remembered to come alive again inside his mouth.
Damn, coming here had been a bad idea.
“Uh.” He paused and blinked hard, breaking the hypnotic hold the beer had over him. After clearing his throat, Dev looked up at the barmaid and tried to summon the courage to set her straight. “I don’t—”
“Lisa, why don’t you take care of the crew at the end of the bar?” A strong feminine voice cut him off. “I’ll take over here.”
The blonde turned and looked at her boss, Racy Steele, the fiery redhead whose personality matched her name even though she was happily married to the town’s sheriff and was the mother of twins.
“But I’m talking to— I mean, I’m helping...”
Dev sat silently as the two women stared each other down. He knew who would win, and sure enough, when Racy tilted her head slightly, the barmaid shrugged and turned away.
With the ease of experience, Racy made the beer disappear, replacing it with a tall glass of ice water. “Sorry about that. She’s new.”
Dev nodded, releasing a deep breath.
“It’s good to see you up and on your feet again,” Racy continued, offering an easy smile. “You’ve been away from the Blue Creek for too long.”
“Been away from everything too long.”
“Of course, when you are here you usually don’t sit at the bar.”
Another defense mechanism.
When he’d decided to give up the booze, he refused to give up the friendships or the fun. Somehow sitting in one of the booths or the tables scattered around the large dance floor made the ongoing battle easier to fight.
“Yeah, I know.” He grabbed a fry and popped it into his mouth.
“And you rarely come in alone.”
He’d waved to a couple of familiar faces when he’d first come inside, but purposely kept walking until he reached the bar, determined to do this by himself.
“Everyone’s working,” he finally said. “You know, being how it’s Wednesday.”
Racy braced her elbows on the bar, leveling a familiar stare that told him she wasn’t buying his flimsy excuse. A move she’d probably perfected over the years from dealing with Blue Creek customers. “Except you?”
“No, I’m back behind the desk at the family business.”
Finally. Only whenever he sat for longer than an hour in front of the bank of computers that he used to design the home security systems sold by Murphy Mountain Log Homes, his shoulders started to pulsate, sending electric shocks into his elbows and making his fingers numb.
“Just decided to get some fresh air.”
“Inside a bar? At two in the afternoon?”
“I had a craving.” Damn, that didn’t sound right. “For a burger.”
“Do you need me to call anyone?”
Her softly spoken question caused Dev’s back to stiffen, his hands falling to his lap. He rubbed at the front pocket of his jeans, searching for and finding the bronze Alcoholics Anonymous medallion he always carried with him. A reminder of what he had achieved over the last six years.
“Someone like the good sheriff of Destiny?” he asked, an edge to his words.
“If
