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The woman turns toward me with a warm smile. “I’m Rory, by the way. These idiots insist on calling me Aurora because they enjoy ruining my life.” She gestures between Logan and Dean. “I’m their younger sister.”

Oh. His sister.

The relief comes so quickly that I’m embarrassed by it.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Blair.”

“Oh, I know,” Rory says with a knowing smirk.

Of course she does. Apparently, being new in Hartwell means introductions are nothing more than a formality.

“What can I get you?” I ask her.

“Moscow Mule, please.”

As I reach for a glass, the others wander toward a booth in the far corner. Dean stays behind, one hand resting against the bar as his gaze settles on me.

“Fancy seeing you again,” he says.

“Just can’t seem to escape me, can you?” I ask, raising a brow as I rest one hand on my hip.

His mouth pulls up at one corner.

“Haven’t tried very hard.”

Then he turns and follows the others, leaving me standing behind the bar with the sudden, ridiculous urge to call him back.

No, stay.

I don’t say it.

Because that would be fucking weird.

Ten

Dean

On the rare Saturday night I make it to The Breakwater, this is usually what I can expect. Knox talking too loudly. Logan stirring someone up. Mallory telling him to shut up. Rory stealing food from everyone’s plates.

The only difference tonight is the new bartender I keep catching myself watching.

“You planning on ordering another drink, or just staring at the bar until one appears?” Rory asks, simultaneously shoving one of my fries into her mouth.

I drag my eyes back to my sister. “I wasn’t staring.”

Four faces turn toward me.

Knox snorts. “Mate, you haven’t blinked in five minutes.”

“Right,” Rory says, reaching for another fry.

“You’re cut off.” I slide my plate out of her reach.

Logan looks toward the bar. “I have to say, Blair Bear is a looker.”

My attention snaps to him. “Blair Bear?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “That’s my nickname for her.”