Currant Creek Valley. RaeAnne Thayne
paramedics.
She always hated sitting by herself at the bar and was about to ask if they minded if she joined them while she waited when someone walked right in her path.
“Hey, there, Alex.”
She gave a mental cringe. “Hi, Corey.”
He had a tumbler of what looked like whiskey in his hand and a bleary-eyed look that indicated it wasn’t his first of the night. No surprise there.
“You look fantastic,” he said, stumbling a little over the adjective as he threw an arm around her shoulder.
Her mental cringe turned into an actual one but Corey Johnson didn’t seem to notice. He never did. To Corey, the three dates they went on in high school twenty years ago apparently left him feeling entitled to paw at her whenever he wanted.
“Pat, bring the lady a drink. My treat.” He beamed at her as if he were bestowing a huge honor and she squirmed a little more.
How was she going to play this? Being firm was generally not a problem for her but she had to admit, she felt a little sorry for Corey. About six months ago, he had lost his job as a mortgage loan officer because of the struggling economy and hadn’t been able to find anything since.
Though he’d been scrambling to make ends meet and the family had even had a few visits from the Angel of Hope—the mysterious anonymous benefactor who went around town doing good deeds—his wife had finally tired of their ride to Nowheresville and had taken their kids to Grand Junction to stay with her mother.
Things weren’t going all that great for old Corey, but that didn’t mean she was willing to be his consolation prize. He was still married. Even if he wasn’t, she hadn’t been interested enough in anything but a handful of dates in high school and she was less interested now.
“I’m good, Pat. I’m just having mineral water tonight,” she told the bartender, who lived down the road from her.
“Oh, come on.” Corey leaned in close and the blast of liquor on his breath seared her nasal passages. “You need something more than that after a hard day.”
“No, really. Mineral water is enough.”
“You’re no fun anymore, Al. You used to be fun.”
“I’m still fun. I’ve just never needed alcohol to get me there.” She forced a smile, which in retrospect was a bad idea. Corey took that as encouragement.
“What do you say you and me go out back and see just how much fun we can have together?”
Eww. Seriously? She tried to edge away but Corey had won second place in the state wrestling championship for his weight class their senior year and still had a pretty darn good half nelson.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to pass on that charming offer,” she said firmly.
“Come on. We can just make out, if you want.”
The very thought made her glad she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. “No, thanks. Let go, Core.”
Instead, he tightened his grip and leaned his head down to her ear and whispered a filthy suggestion. She decided she didn’t have any sympathy left for Corey and hoped like hell his wife had taken every penny of whatever the Angel of Hope had given the family when she made her way out of Dodge.
“Let go. Now,” she said firmly but Corey ignored her.
Nobody else at the bar seemed to have noticed her predicament, probably assuming it was just a warm chat between old friends. She was trying to figure out whether he would even feel a sharp elbow shoved into his slight beer belly or if she would have to knee him hard where it counted when another voice intruded.
“The lady said no, I believe.”
She shifted her gaze and knew she shouldn’t be so glad to see Sam Delgado standing next to them in all his rough-edged, ex-Army Ranger glory.
She totally had this and didn’t need rescuing, but it was still really, really nice of Sam to step in.
Corey turned his red-rimmed eyes in Sam’s direction. “Mind your own business, asshole,” he slurred.
Sam’s expression didn’t change. She might have thought it almost apologetic, if she didn’t glimpse the hard steel in those dark eyes.
“Technically, this is my business. I’m afraid Ms. McKnight is my date.”
Something in Sam’s tone, his massive size or his deceptively casual stance seemed to pierce Corey’s alcoholic stupor. It was fascinating to watch his bluster trickle away like beer out of a cracked bottle.
He pulled his arm away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything. Alex and I are old friends, aren’t we, Al?”
She said nothing but Corey didn’t seem to need a response—or maybe was grateful she didn’t offer one.
“Talk to you later,” he mumbled and ambled away with his drink.
Not the most auspicious beginning for their evening together. How was she supposed to put things back on a fun, casual footing now after he rescued her from being pawed by a drunk and disorderly high school classmate?
“Sorry I’m late,” Sam said. He didn’t offer any explanation other than that and she had the odd feeling he was troubled about something.
“No problem. You’re here now. That’s the important thing.”
Oops. That came out more flirtatious than she intended. Apparently it was a hard habit to break.
He looked around The Speckled Lizard, with its high tin-stamped ceilings, the long, gleaming bar and the dark-paneled woodwork carved in elaborate designs.
“Any chance the grill is still open? I haven’t had time for dinner.”
The nurturer in her wanted to take him home and cook something delicious for him, but that sort of offer would almost certainly be misconstrued.
She was hungry, too, she suddenly realized. One of life’s little ironies, that she spent all night cooking for others and sometimes didn’t take time to eat, herself.
She glanced at the clock. “The grill here stays open for ten more minutes. I happen to know the cook, though, and I bet we can persuade her to keep it warm a bit longer. They have really excellent burgers. You can have beef, bison or beefalo if you want.”
“Beefalo? Is that anything like a jackalope?”
She laughed. “Nope. Cross between bison and beef. It’s actually quite good.”
“Think I’ll stick with beef, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Give me a couple minutes and I’ll get you fixed up.”
She headed back to the kitchen, waving to Pat as she went, then found the irascible Francesca Beltran in the small galley kitchen, all three-hundred pounds of her.
“Hey, Frankie.”
“What you doing in my kitchen, baby girl?” She was so round, her only wrinkles were around her eyes.
Alex grinned. “Got me a friend who’s hungry. I know you’re probably ready to wrap things up. Any chance you’d let me throw on an apron and burn us up a couple burgers?”
She narrowed raisin-black eyes. “I was just about to clean the grill.”
“He’s really hungry, Frank. Come on. Please? He’s been working hard all day building my kitchen at the new restaurant. If I can’t cook for him here, I’ll have to take him to my place to feed him and who knows what will happen then? I can’t do that. You know I’m a nice girl.”
Frankie’s deep, full-bodied laugh always made her smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Make it fast.”
She grinned and kissed