Rough Country (Tannen Boys 3)

I only have time to cut one lemon before Olivia is back. She hops up on a stool in front of me and muses, “Okay, where were we?” Her palms slam on the bar. “Duh, the kiss. Spill it, girl. Every dirty, filthy, detail.”

I can feel my cheeks warm and renew my efforts at cutting lemons and not my fingers. “I told you already. He was a perfect gentleman . . .” —Olivia’s eyebrows lift high in disbelief— “who kissed the hell out of me.”

“I knew it,” she snaps gleefully. “Are you sure he wasn’t leaving this morning after a night of wild sex and you’re just making up the Lookout Point all-nighter?”

My face blanches, which is way worse than the pink of embarrassment. “No! And hush!” I really don’t need that getting out because according to Bobby, the grapevine of Great Falls is thick and wide and moves faster than the speed of light.

Olivia laughs at my reaction. “Chill. I’m just kidding. Trust me, everyone knows he didn’t spend the night because they all heard his truck rumbling down the street and were peering through their blinds like Gladys Kravitz so they’d be the one in the know. Fair to say, that kiss had an audience. Forewarned is forearmed, so know that when you do have a certain male companion overnight, everyone will know in approximately point-oh-two seconds and will be judging how you’re walking the next day.”

I pray she’s exaggerating and at the same time fear that she’s not. At all.

The door creaks, and Olivia is up and at ’em again, seating the newcomers and leaving me to my lemons and swirling thoughts.

Why is this such a big deal to everyone?

Which leads into something even more important, why is this such a big deal to Bobby?

And most important of all, why does this feel so deep to me?

Last night, in the black blanket of the night that made it feel as though it was only the two of us, this thing between Bobby and me felt so big and powerful, which made it seem perfectly reasonable and full of possibilities. By the light of day, alone with my thoughts, I have to think I was imagining that or overreacting or something. People don’t fall that hard, that fast. Do they?

Maybe . . . sometimes, they do, a voice whispers hopefully in my head. Or maybe in my heart. I’m not sure since they sound pretty similar to me.

For now, I choose to ignore the questions playing on a loop in my mind and also choose to pretend that no one is looking at me and whispering. Instead, I help the folks at the bar, pull beers and drinks for Olivia, and get set up for tonight’s weekend rush.

“This seat taken?” a voice asks a bit later, and I look up to see Unc’s friend, Doc Jones, smiling at me.

“It is now,” I reply, pushing a menu his way. “What’s your pleasure, Doc?”

He waves off the menu. “Whatever Ilene’s cooking today is fine by me. And a Coke, please.”

I place his order and set an already sweating glass in front of him. He takes a healthy drink and sighs gratefully. “Needed that sugar. Been up since before dawn helping a bobcat that got stuck in a trap. Damn things shouldn’t be out like that, anyway . . . the traps, not the bobcats, obviously. We’re in their world, you know? But we can’t have ’em eating up the livestock either. Rock, hard place.” He shrugs one bony shoulder.

I nod, not sure what to say because wildlife rescue is woefully out of my area of expertise. “You help the bobcat?”

“Of course I did!” he says with a touch of pride. “His leg’s a bit messed up, but it’ll heal. Took him to a rescue a few towns over. Just getting back, and figured I had time to eat before anyone else started looking for me.”

He holds one gnarled finger to his lips, telling me shh as though I never saw him here. I smile agreeably and he nods his appreciation.

He’s halfway through his pan-fried pork chop when he says, “I’m glad you came. He needs you, even if he’s too much of an ass to admit it.”

He’s talking about Unc, no doubt.

“Glad to be here and helping.” It’s the truth. Great Falls now seems like a step in the right direction, and the morning view of the mountain is one of my favorites as I sip at my coffee. Okay, so it’s not ‘morning’ exactly, since it’s usually creeping up on noon, but it’s my morning with the hours I keep.

“You got plans on how long you’re staying? I hear that might be changing.” One of his eyebrows climbs questioningly.

I ignore his dig for intel on Bobby and me and focus on Unc. “However long Unc will let me stay, I’m here.”