Tropical Bartender Bear (Shifting Sands Resort 3)

She scanned the laminated drink menu, trying to decide which one Jenny would pick.

“I’ll take a Shifter’s Mate,” she called to the bartender who’d been showing off at the other end of the counter without looking. It called itself a ‘Shifting Sands original, a Mai Tai with a Costa Rican twist.’ It would be like Jenny to take a fruity house specialty and it would undoubtedly be mostly cheap juice and a plastic sword.

She only watched the bartender’s ridiculous drink-making out of the corner of one eye, not lifting her hat until he set the drink before her.

“Pretty,” she had to admit, and then she made the mistake of looking him in the face.

He was as handsome as any of the Mr. Shifters, with a tan and build that Mr. California himself would envy. His easy smile was not as fakely white, and his hands were both strong and gentle on the glass he hadn’t let go of. He was wearing a cowboy hat, of all the ridiculous things. Laura had no patience for the pretentiousness of cowboys, and hated their music.

She wanted to dislike him at once, and instead, she was utterly drawn to him. His brown eyes had crinkles of kindness and humor around them, and Laura had never wanted to touch a jaw as much as she wanted to touch his. The almost-scruffy stubble, the straight nose, and the stunned look — he was straight off a Western romance book cover.

“P-p-pretty,” he echoed her.

Laura wondered if he was as stunned as she felt, or if he was just an idiot. Being an idiot would simplify things, at least.

He’s not an idiot, he’s ours, her wolf told her firmly, canine voice singing in delight.

He blinked and shook his head, which gave her just enough space to do the same.

“Yo

u’re Jenny,” he said, to Laura’s shock. “Jennavivianna Rose.”

Laura had no words. She’d come halfway around the world to escape her life, just to meet a bartender who knew her sister?

“We met in Austin, half a dozen years ago. Over spring break.” He sounded baffled.

“Oh wait, yes!” Laura blurted. Jenny had told her about this, when she returned her borrowed boots. “You were very kind to her — to ME. You were really sweet. To me.”

Ours, not hers, her wolf said jealously.

“Can I get you something?”

Laura barely avoided asking him to take his pants off and make love to her right there in the crowded bar. “You, ah, already took my order,” she reminded him. “You’re still holding onto it.”

He gave a confused guffaw and let go of the glass. His fingers left bare spots in the gathering drops of condensation. Laura put her own fingers there and wondered if she imagined the little electric shock it gave her.

She knew what this was from the stories, and from her inner wolf’s animal glee. She’d never really believed she’d find her own mate, but she knew it was possible. Love at first sight, it was supposed to be. Like this, except not complicated by the fact that she was masquerading as someone else. Someone he’d already met.

She concentrated on his cowboy hat and worked at keeping her expression blank and casual. It was something she had a lot of practice with lately; act stupid, keep her head down, try not to put too much together.

“Can I get you something?” she asked, chilling her voice deliberately.

He actually blushed as he realized he was staring at her. It was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen. He put his fingers to his hat in a gesture that could only be automatic. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said humbly. “It’s… ah… a surprise to see you again.”

“It was a long time ago,” Laura agreed with a careless shrug. It was tricky pretending disinterest when everything about him made her heart race and her breath catch. “Small world.”

‘He’s a cowboy,’ she reminded herself. ‘You hate country music.’

She clung to that and took a sip of the drink.

He was still staring at her.

For the first time on the trip, she was actually glad to hear Fred’s voice. “There you are, Jenny!”

She turned with a warm smile for the bartender’s benefit and a little wave. “Hey Fred.”

Fred plopped down beside her on a barstool, completely innocuous and out-classed in his flip-flops and sunburnt balding head.