A Word With The Bachelor. Teresa Southwick
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in the cloudless blue sky. “The problem is that your nice muscles haven’t been stretched in a while.”
“You know what I think?”
“Not a clue,” she said, wishing she could see his eyes behind those too-sexy-for-words aviator sunglasses. “But I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“Damn straight.” He looked over, his mouth pulled into a straight line. “I think you’re a fugitive from fantasyland.”
That would be a step up for her after nursing Garrett through cancer and watching him take his last breath. “Oh?”
“I’m not a nice man. If you were smart, you’d ditch this job and get the hell out of here. Away from me.”
“Hmm.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think I’m fragile and I think you’re a fraud. So what we have here is a standoff.”
“Guess so,” he said. “Sooner or later one of us is going to blink and it won’t be me.”
“Sounds like a challenge or a treaty to me. Maybe both.” It was going to take a lot of convincing to make her believe he was as unfeeling as he wanted her to think he was.
“For the record, it makes good sense to coordinate shopping since you’ll be doing the cooking and don’t know what Harley likes.”
That made her smile. Big bad warrior was hiding behind the world’s most unattractive dog. But she just said, “Understood.”
“You hungry?” The words were unexpected, but they were nearing the Blackwater Lake city limits.
“Starving.”
“Me, too. Let’s get something to eat.” He glanced over quickly as if checking to see whether or not she’d noticed him being nice. “Grocery shopping will go easier that way.”
“I think so, too.” And that’s the first time they’d agreed on anything in the last twenty-four hours.
He stopped the jeep at a stand-alone building near the end of Main Street, not far from city hall. There was a sign on the outside that read Bar None, with crossed cocktail glasses on it.
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “I’m driving you to drink.”
“You said it, not me.” But his teeth flashed in a fleeting smile before he got out of the car.
Erin opened her door and slid to the ground, then met him on the sidewalk. The wooden exterior was reminiscent of a miner’s shack and the heavy oak door had a vertical brass handle. Jack grabbed it and pulled the door open for her.
The pulse in her neck jumped as she passed him and walked inside. Heat from his body was enough to sizzle her senses and short them out. That was probably the reason it seemed to take longer than usual for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dim interior after being outside.
“This looks nice,” she finally said.
“It’s okay.”
Lining the walls were booths with leather seats and lantern-shaped lights. Dark beams ran the length of the ceiling and old wooden planks covered the floor. An oak bar with a brass footrail commanded the center of the room.
“Table or booth?”
She scanned the bistro tables scattered over the floor. “Where do you usually sit?”
“At the bar.”
She should have guessed and would have if she wasn’t standing so close to Jack. Worn jeans, gray hoodie over tight black T-shirt, scuffed boots. This was as much a uniform for him as the camouflage he’d no doubt worn in the military. He’d been so right about what she was thinking yesterday. Not so much about sleeping with him, although she’d gotten as far as wondering what he looked like naked. But she found him incredibly hot and was mortified that he’d been able to see that.
Now she needed to conceal the fact that her instantaneous attraction had not yet run its course, or she’d be risking losing this job.
“The bar it is.” She followed him across the room.
It was closing in on five o’clock and there were only a handful of people in the place. Jack headed for the bar and took a seat on one of the stools beside a tall, broad-shouldered, handsome man in a khaki uniform.
“Hey, Sheriff,” he said. “I see you changed your mind about leaving town.”
The man smiled and held out his hand. “Good to see you. Been a while, Jack. If you came around more, you’d know that my dad retired and I’m now the head lawman in town.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Erin managed to haul herself up on the stool next to him. Her legs were short; the chairs were high. It wasn’t graceful. Jack looked at her then at the sheriff, but said nothing.
“Hi,” the man said to her. “Haven’t seen you around before.”
She reached an arm in front of Jack and shook the sheriff’s hand. “Erin Riley.”
“Will Fletcher,” he said.
A beautiful blue-eyed redhead walked over to them and stopped on the other side of the bar. “If it isn’t Blackwater Lake’s famous author.”
“Hi, Delanie.”
The woman looked from Jack to Erin and waited expectantly. Apparently she got tired of waiting because she asked, “Who’s your friend?”
“Erin Riley.” He rested his forearms on the bar. “And we’re not friends.”
“Nice to meet you, Erin.” Delanie stared at Jack. “So, if you’re not friends, what are you?”
The silence grew as all of them stared at Jack, waiting for clarification. He finally shrugged and said, “That’s a good question.”
Erin jumped in. “I’m his research assistant.”
“Okay, then. What can I get you two?” Delanie asked. “Food? Drinks?”
“I’d like to see a menu, please. And a glass of chardonnay would be lovely.”
“You got it.” The woman grabbed two plastic-covered sheets containing the food choices and set them in front of her and Jack. Then she opened a bottle of white wine and poured a glass, putting it on a napkin in front of Erin. “Beer, Jack?”
“The usual.”
“How long have you been in town?” Sheriff Fletcher asked.
“A day. So far I haven’t seen much except the lake and marina. And Main Street. But Blackwater Lake is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”
“Where are you from?” Delanie used a rag to wipe nonexistent spots from the bar.
“Phoenix.” The bar owner and the sheriff were nodding as if that explained a lot. “Don’t judge. There’s a beauty in the Arizona desert, too, it’s just different. I actually haven’t done much traveling, though, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“So, you’re a research assistant?” Sitting at the bar, the sheriff leaned his forearms on the edge of the oak. “Is that a permanent arrangement?”
Erin looked at Jack and he didn’t seem inclined to answer so she was forced to wing it. “Not permanent. Just for the book in progress. I freelance and in between assignments I work as a substitute high school English teacher.”
“So you’re overqualified to read that menu,” Jack said.
She got his point. He was hungry and wanted to get this over with. After scanning the list of options she said, “I’d like a club sandwich and side salad.”
Jack never even looked at the choices. “Burger and fries.”