The Rebel (Red's Tavern 2)

“Howdy. Got yourself a handful, there,” I said, watching as Anna and Elsa excitedly approached the puppy. The puppy leaped off of the guy.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw two crystalline grey eyes.

Fuck.

It wasn’t a Liam-lookalike. It was him.

“Red,” Liam said quickly, pushing his palms to the ground and sitting up quickly, like he was a startled animal defending himself from some kind of attack. My instinct was to tell him everything was okay.

I was still reeling from seeing him in the bar last week, having an old wound opened up and fresh.

I swallowed. “Here,” I said, offering my hand to him. He reached out and took it and I hoisted him up to a standing position. He brushed dirt off his ass, and I tried not to stare at the way his jeans hugged it perfectly. The Husky looped around his legs, tangling him in a long blue leash.

“Bandit, settle,” Liam said, awkwardly stepping out of the leash and nearly tripping again. The dog started jumping up toward Elsa, clearly ready to play. Elsa just stood calmly, panting as she eyed the puppy. “Bandit, sit,” he said, but the dog ignored him, still jumping around.

“It’s okay. Anna and Elsa don’t mind,” I said.

Liam pulled in a long breath, glancing up at me. He was clearly stressed about the dog, but also shocked seeing me. He shrugged off his hoodie, and the short-sleeve black T-shirt underneath revealed the collection of tattoos on his arms. It had grown significantly since ten years ago, when he’d only had three small ones.

I’d always loved his tattoos. I never knew what I would want on my body as a permanent art fixture, but Liam had gotten tattoos with total abandon, knowing that if he found something beautiful, he probably would always love it.

He was more reckless than me, but in some ways, he was so much freer. And that drew me toward him like a fucking magnet.

“I’ve been trying to get him to calm down all morning—I thought a long walk would tire him out, but he has so much energy,” Liam said.

“Huskies tend to,” I said. “They really need a place to run freely. Do you have a fenced-in yard?”

Liam shook his head. He nodded toward a little cottage on our left. “Does it look like I have a fenced-in yard?”

I looked at the cottage, which was situated at the top of a small hill, with a slope that went down to a small creek behind it. There was a cluster of trees beside it, but not much else.

“You’re living there?” I said.

“Sure am.”

Last time I’d seen where Liam was living, it was a modern, tiny apartment with glass windows and cement floors, on the tenth floor of a building in Los Angeles. Liam loved being in a bustling city, in the center of all the activity. It almost hurt my brain to think of him living in this little Amberfield cottage.

Bandit started barking at Anna, and Liam ran his fingers through his hair.

“Quit it, Bandy,” he said. “Stop barking.”

“You need to act calm when he barks,” I said. “He can sense your anxiety. Dogs think you’re joining in the fun when you yell at them.”

“Seriously?” Liam asked.

“Believe me, yes,” I said.

Liam puffed out a tiny laugh before letting out a sigh. “No wonder he’s so pent up this week.”

I furrowed my brow. “Everything all right?”

Liam scratched the back of his neck, looking at me like he was unsure how much he should say. “Other than wondering if I made the stupidest decision of my life moving here… sure, everything is all right.”

I cleared my throat, watching as he bent down to wrangle Bandit. A slow heat passed through my body as I saw the waistband of his underwear peeking out of the top of his jeans. They were tight, cute, and the color of a strawberry. Liam had always liked the brightest underwear even though he mostly wore black clothes. The first few times I’d stripped him down, it had always felt like a surprise gift to find him wearing hot pink or patterned boxer briefs.

“Amberfield treating you that badly?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Everyone here has been nice to me, actually. I’m just…”

He trailed off, casting his gaze toward the creek. There was real pain in his eyes, the kind of pain I used to see when he talked about his childhood. He always used to drown that kind of pain out with alcohol.

“Just lonely. I guess,” he said. He turned to his puppy. “C’mon, Bandy. Let’s go back inside.”

“Wait,” I said as he started back toward the cottage.

He looked at me over his shoulder.

I wasn’t sure why I’d told him to wait. It had been a week since he’d come into my bar, and ever since, he’d floated through my head every day, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.