She should locate those adoption papers! Frame and display them as a daily reminder that she was actually one of the Walkers. Legally anyway.
With her parents deceased, however, she didn’t know how to find the documents. Maybe Brett would have a clue where to look, she thought, digging her phone from her purse. When he didn’t answer, she sent him a text, realizing her fingers were a little clumsy on the tiny keyboard.
Another swallow of mostly vodka eliminated her concern over it.
She’d nearly drained the second martini when the phone buzzed in her hand. The display read Mel.
“Where are you?” Shay demanded through the device. “It’s my birthday and I’m all alone.”
“Your birthday’s tomorrow,” Melinda pointed out.
“Oh, yeah.” Shay had been going glum a whole day early. But that was okay, she decided, tilting back her head to shake the last drops of her drink into her mouth, because there was enough glum to spread across the calendar. Not all of her sibs could do cake and ice cream—their usual tradition—tomorrow so that was being postponed to yet another time.
Poor Shay. Poor Shay, who was not really a Walker.
“Uh-oh,” she said to Melinda, signaling the boarding bartender that she needed a refill. “You better speed over here, stat. I’m drinking martinis and getting morose.”
“About that...”
“Noooo.” Shay began to shake her head, then quit, because the movement made her dizzy. When had she eaten last?
“I’m sorry, but—”
“This was your idea, Mel. I need an un-no, a mun-mo... An un-moroser!” She finally spit out the made-up word with a note of triumph.
The bartender replaced her glass with a fresh one. She pointed at him with her free hand. “I bet you really tear it up when you’re shreddin’ the gnar,” she said to express her appreciation of how he’d anticipated her need. “And you never biff, do you?”
“Are you talking to me?” Mel said in her ear.
“Nope.” Probably her friend didn’t understand snowboard lingo any better than Shay, but that didn’t stop her tonight. “That was to BB—Boarder Bartender.”
“Oh, dear.” Mel sighed. “You are drunk. And alone in a bar, where I can’t get to you.”
“Which I’m still waiting to hear what for.” Shay frowned. “How. I mean, why.”
“A wildfire has caused local road closures,” her friend said. “They’re diverting cars from the highway, too.”
Shay blinked, somewhat sobered by the news. Fire was a constant danger in their mountains. “Structures threatened?”
“Not so far. But the closed roads mean I can’t reach the inn...and you can’t get home, either.”
“I booked a room here.” She drew the martini closer, and, thinking of fire, took it up for a hefty swallow. “So’s all’s good.”
“You’re slurring,” Melinda said.
“I’ll order food. What goes with martinis?”
“Olives?” Mel suggested.
“Oh.” Shay inspected her glass. “Mine came with those twisty lemon peels.”
“I was kidding,” the other woman said. “Get something with protein. And order bread. That’s good to absorb the alcohol.”
“But I’m enjoying the alcohol,” Shay protested. Her gaze shifted to the TV screen as the bartender upped the volume. The picture was from a helicopter and showed the dark mountains and a glowing orange snake of flames. A shiver rolled down her back. Fire had taken a lot from the Walkers and she didn’t appreciate the reminder of it.
Again, she brought her glass to her lips, hoping to drown her discomfort.
“Shay?” her friend called.
“Oh.” She’d forgotten about Mel. “I wish you were here.”
“Me, too.” The other woman’s voice went stern. “Now promise me no more martinis.”
“Um...” Shay closed one eye to better inspect the clear liquid left in her glass. The yellow curl of peel was so delicate and pretty. Who needed olives? “No more martinis.” Maybe.
“And try to have some fun tonight,” her friend said. “That’s an order.”
Fun? All alone and with no more martinis? That wasn’t the way to make Melinda’s command come true.
* * *
THE VOLUME OF noise from the patrons of the Deerpoint Inn amplified as more of them became aware of the fire and tuned into the coverage on the TV over the bar. The manager struck a glass with a fork and when the voices around him died down, he announced which roads were blocked. New people trickled in, having been rerouted from the now closed highway. The long-haired bartender got busy filling drink orders as many guests figured out they likely wouldn’t be driving anywhere that night.
Trying to tamp down her nerves, Shay sipped at the last of the third martini, ordered a plate of chicken quesadilla appetizers, then threw caution to the wind and asked for another alcohol concoction.
Mel had told her to have fun, hadn’t she? When the front door of the restaurant opened once again, bringing with it the disconcerting scent of smoke, Shay didn’t hesitate to reach for her new glass.
She needed to block the fire from her mind.
A body slid onto the bar stool beside her. Shay looked over, the glance automatic, but her response was anything but.
As she took in the man on her right, it was as if a cold pail of water had been dumped on top of her head—an icy surprise. Following that, a rush of heat crept up from her toes all the way to the roots of her hair.
He was gorgeous.
And no boy, she thought, with a mental apology to BB, the boarder-bartender who had, after all, been so ably supplying her with vodka and a splash of vermouth. The newcomer was tall, his build rugged, with heavy shoulders and muscled arms, a broad chest, lean waist and strong thighs, all signaling a more than passing familiarity with manual labor. Linking his fingers on the bar, he ordered a beer, and Shay directed her gaze to his hands. They were big, too, and wide-palmed. She could see tiny white scars scattered on the tan skin.
Then, under the cover of her lashes, she took a second look at his face. At the same time, she tilted her head, just a little, as if trying to get a better view of the television and not his fine, fine features.
Wow.
His hair was mink-brown, thick and straight. It was shorn fairly tight, revealing a broad forehead. His cheekbones were high, he had a straight blade of a masculine nose and his lips were full. His strong jaw was edged with just a hint of dark stubble.
She
