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The same routine took place at Badlands. Wolfe did a sweep of the interior, while she got straight to work. She began to clear away the empty beer bottles and glasses on the tables left from the previous night while stealing looks at the man who’d been in her bed.
He stood with his back to the wall. He swiped his long finger over the screen of his phone, scrolling through what was probably the security camera footage. But she couldn’t quit thinking about what those long, callused fingers could do to her body.
How he lifted her onto the counter and ate her pussy.
A shiver coursed through her, and she battled to fill her lungs with air that had been sucked out of the bar.
When she started dragging the full trash can across the room, Wolfe looked up from his task and saw what she was doing. Without being asked, he walked over and took the can from her, hoisting the heavy, full bag up in one hand like it weighed nothing.
He started toward the back door to place it outside.
She admired his strong, straight back and the carved lines of his ass in a clean pair of jeans. “Thank you,” she remembered to call out.
He tossed her a look over his shoulder. “No problem.”
Maybe she should do something nice for him. After all, he wasn’t getting paid to pretend he was her bouncer, and she never hired him on as a bodyguard either. Attempting to press money on him would only insult the man, she knew.
Inspiration struck. She’d make him lunch. Nobody could resist her special sandwiches. Guys came in for the lunch special just to eat her sandwiches and watch sports on TV.
Since her father’s passing, she’d remodeled the kitchen, updating old fixtures and streamlining so food could be prepared faster. Her business had tripled over the past three years, and she just knew if she could launch the rum side of things, she could finally start up that retirement account she always wanted.
As much as she appreciated having Badlands, she didn’t want to still be slinging drinks when she was sixty. She needed to keep her exit strategy in sight.
While she pulled out all the ingredients for one of her famous pastrami and pickle on rye sandwiches, she hummed along to the music that always played through the speakers. The country tune was one of her favorites. For the three minutes it played, her worries over the break-in and even how things had gone so far with Carver faded to the background.
On the surface, she downplayed the trouble in her bar and with the man she shot, but how could she ignore the events? But she’d worry about them later—right now, the music filled the space.
By the time the song finished, she had one sandwich whipped up and another on the prep board. Then with a plate in each hand, she carried them out to the bar.
Carver looked up at her, and she twitched her head toward the stools for him to take a seat. Once he did, she settled next to him and pushed one dish his way.
“What’s this?” He rested his forearms on the worn bar. The thick ropes of muscles wrapped around each sent a small thrill through Livia’s lower belly.
“My specialty. Pastrami and swiss on rye with crispy pickle.”
He looked into her eyes. “Nobody’s fixed me lunch in years.”
“Well, I hope you like it.” She picked up half of her sandwich and brought it to her lips.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him do the same. When he bit off a huge chunk and let out a moan, she smiled.
“Good?”
“Very good.” He took another bite. “I’ve never been a huge fan of pickles, but these make the sandwich better.”
“Mmhmm. People come from all over the tri-county area for one of my sandwiches. I have a few options, but this is my personal favorite.”
They ate, with the music and TVs breaking the companionable silence. When she reached for a potato chip on her plate, she sent Carver a sideways glance.
“What brought you to Eden?”
He finished half of the sandwich and reached for the other. “My men. I had to make sure they were okay.”
She studied him. The carved line of his jaw gave nothing away about the inner workings of his brain.
“You fought with them? You were SEALs?”
He nodded. While she wouldn’t call his expression closed off, she couldn’t read it either. “There was a huge attack. It took out most of our friends.”
