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“Go for it,” he said, scanning the bar before bringing his attention back to me.
“I haven’t gotten out much since I came back, but Mazzie tells me there’s some. . . resistance to my place? I know if there’s anyone who has their pulse on the town, it’s you.”
I could tell the answer already by his face. “Honestly, the place hasn’t changed much since you left. A few more tourists, but the regular folk?” He shrugged. “Still as keen to accept change as they are a snowstorm in January, despite the fact that we’re in upstate New York.”
I took a swig of beer. “I didn’t expect a welcome wagon,” I admitted. “But my business depends on a good reputation, and I don’t want Grunt Ink to get off on the wrong foot.”
I hadn’t gone to the trouble to get a loan, find a building, and put so much of my hard-earned combat pay savings on the line to be taking two steps back before the place even opened.
“They’ll come around. And those who don’t. . . they won’t be your customers anyway.”
“Speaking of customers, you’re really packing them in tonight.”
“Only gig in town for the games.”
I wondered how Mazzie’s opening would affect him. “Boots and Brews,” I mused, not wanting to say much more.
Owen seemed completely unaffected. “There was a bar on that block for years. Honestly, it’s a completely different vibe. And anything good for Kitchi Falls is good for me.” I liked Owen more and more as we talked. “Your place will be too.”
“Thanks, man,” I said, glancing toward the door.
No fucking way.
I’d been here for two weeks and hadn’t seen her once. Now, twice in three days?
Owen spun toward the door—clearly I was not doing a very good job keeping my emotions in check.
“Ah, the dynamic duo,” Owen said. “Don’t usually see them on game night.”
My entire body was aware of her.
Concentrating on my beer, I downed it, with Owen immediately refilling.
“Which one?”
Before I answered, he did it for me.
“Wait a minute. You dated Charlee,” he said. “I remember that now. The two of you were one hell of a good-looking couple.”
And she’d only gotten more beautiful.
“Yeah,” I admitted the obvious. “We dated.”
“Distance split you up?”
Pfft. Not exactly. “Nah, we broke up before I left.”
She was coming toward me.
Don’t do it, Charlee. Don’t. Fucking. Do. It.
“I’d say by the look on your face, it wasn’t an amicable breakup?
“Amicable? No.”
She wore jeans and a pale pink, long-sleeve shirt with two buttons revealing the tiniest bit of cleavage. Hair down. Very fuckable.
And just like that, she was in front of me. Close enough I could smell her. And didn’t she wear the same damn perfume, one I could smell for years longer than I should have.
