by Desiree Holt
“He’s my husband,” Jinx reminded him. “He’ll leave us alone if he knows what’s good for him.”
“Or bad for him,” Cyn teased.
They burst out laughing again and a blush crept up Jinx’s fair skin.
“Okay, okay.” Amy rapped her knuckles on the table. “Enough. We don’t want to scare Charity away when she just got here.”
“You all have a long way to go being raucous to beat the cops I hang out with. Trust me. This is so much better.”
Georgie refilled everyone’s glass and then lifted her own. “I think we should make a toast to Charity. May she have fun in Saddle Wells and stay for a good long time.”
“To Charity,” they all echoed and everyone took a long swallow.
Charity casually slid a glance to the bar. Liam Douglas was leaning against the bar top, ostensibly chatting with one of the patrons seated on a bar stool. But she noticed the moment she looked at him, as if he had some kind of radar, his glance met hers.
Sizzle.
Good Lord. There it was again, that sharp crackle of electricity between them that was so strong she wondered why others couldn’t see it. She quickly turned back to the conversation at the table, torn between doing her damndest to get this guy out of her mind and wondering when she could get Amy to bring her here again.
Chapter Three
Liam leaned back in the creaky chair in the tiny office at Mike’s, keyboard on his lap. The computer with its wireless accessories was one of the improvements he’d insisted on when he’d begun running the bar with his dad. It meant that all the bookwork fell to him, because Mike refused to use anything but pen and paper. But Liam didn’t mind. Anything that kept his brain occupied was fine with him. That gave him less time for the nightmares and memories to take hold of him.
He tried to study the spreadsheet open on the screen but the columns kept fading, replaced by a heart-shaped face with full lips and framed by rich dark curls. Disgusted, he set the keyboard back on the desk, closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind? Or make his dick behave when he looked at her? He certainly wasn’t looking to take someone to bed, fall asleep and scare the shit out of her with his nightmares.
But he couldn’t seem to stop conjuring up the image of Charity Vance and mentally undressing her. The drape of the tee-shirt she wore when he’d first seen her and the blouse she had on the other night hinted at nice, full, rounded breasts. And if he wasn’t mistaken, when the brief contact of their hands had sparked an erotic charge, her nipples had swelled and called for his attention.
When he’d put the pitcher of beer on the table, leaning against her shoulder to do so, he’d caught a whiff of her scent, a combination of floral and spice, and he swore it still invaded his nostrils. Made him hard and aching when he crawled into bed at night.
You are a sick, sad case, Liam Douglas. Jonesing over a woman you’ll probably never see again.
He’d picked up the phone to call Amy Montgomery and ask her how long her friend was staying at least a dozen times. Maybe one night with her would get her out of his system. Of course, that would mean being put through what he knew would be an inquisition. Amy wasn’t shy to begin with, and since Liam was aware how odd it would be for him to inquire about any woman at all, she was sure to be full of questions.
Making himself visible in town was another option. Maybe go to the Bit and Byte for a meal. Drop into some likely shops on Main Street. But since he’d made himself such a recluse except at the bar, there would be questions about that too.
Damn.
He needed to do something. Cold showers weren’t helping at all, and neither was his good right hand. Nor were either of them very satisfying.
What a fucking mess he was.
He had just closed the open file and started glancing over it when there was a knock on the door.
“Come,” he barked.
Mac, the cook, stuck his head into the office. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood. And I’m about to make it worse.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We’ve got a busy house for lunch, and that girl just made up being sick and flounced out the door.”
Liam sighed. That girl was Edie Crockett, and she was actually a woman whose husband worked at one of the ranches. He forgot which one. She never flounced, and if she’d left, she probably had a damn good reason.
“Edie would never leave us in the lurch unless she really was sick, you crotchety old man. But I’ll come out and help. That make you feel better?”
“Long as I don’t have to do it,” Mac grumbled. “I don’t like it outside my kitchen.”
That was certainly the truth.
Liam ducked into the men’s room for a minute to make sure he looked presentable enough for customers before heading into the kitchen.
“Okay, what’s up first?”
Mac pointed with his spatula. “Got a couple of orders waiting to be delivered and some tables need bussing. And I don’t like it outside my kitchen,” he repeated.
“I heard you the first twenty times. Where does this food go?”
“Booth in the corner.” Mac turned back to stirring the chili and watching the hamburgers on the grill.
Liam sighed, pushed into the bar so he could take the plates from the open serving window. He turned and headed toward the corner booth and nearly dropped the plates when he caught sight of the occupants. Charity Vance, the woman who haunted his every dream, sat across from Amy Montgomery, the two of them busily chatting.
Pulling himself together, he wound his way among the tables to the booth and slid the plates onto the table.
“Ladies. Enjoy your lunch.”
They both looked at him. Amy smiled.
“Well, this is interesting. Doing your own waitressing these days?”
“Edie went home sick. Gotta serve the public, you know.” He slid his glance to Charity. “Nice to see you in here again.”
She was just as mouthwatering as he remembered. He could hardly drag his gaze away from the drape of her blouse against her breasts. She wet her lower lip with her tongue and his cock became painfully hard.
Jesus.
He needed to get away from this table before he disgraced himself.
“Thank you.” Charity smiled at him. “The ladies all told me what great hamburgers you make.”
“Actually,” Amy began, “Charity was—ouch.”
“Oh. Did I kick you accidentally? I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” Amy frowned. “Sorry. Right.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me? I have some tables to bus. Enjoy your lunch.”
“What the hell?” Amy leaned across the table and hissed at Charity. “Did you have to kick me so hard?”
“You were about to embarrass me.”
“I was about to advance your cause a little. You’re the one who wanted to come here, remember?”
“I just asked if they served lunch.” And that had been hard enough for her to do. She figured she’d left her mind somewhere on the highway between Dallas and Saddle Wells. There wasn’t any other explanation for her sudden obsession with this man who had darkness in his eyes.
“Uh huh.” Amy took a sip of her soft drink. “We could have gone to the Bit and Byte.”
Charity frowned. “So why didn’t we?”
Amy laughed. “Because I knew you had an itch to come here again. You’re more transparent than glass.”
“Really? Because you all like to come here, right? So if I’m going to fit in with the group, I should feel the same way.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Amy’s mouth quirked in a tiny smile.
Charity took a bite of her food, chewed and swallowed. “But you were certainly on the mark about the burgers. Best I’ve ever tasted.”
Amy laughe
d. “You mean you get to ogle the owner and the good food is a bonus, right?”
“Ssh.” Charity waved her hand at her friend. “He’ll hear you.”
“Not unless he has extraordinary hearing. The place is still half-full and a bunch more people just blew in the door, and I bet they’ll make plenty of noise.”
Charity glanced in the direction of the entrance. Sure enough, at least a dozen people had swarmed in. They fanned out to the tables in groups of two and three. She watched Liam bussing the dirty tables as quickly as he could, pasting on a smile and nodding to his customers.
“Be right with you in a minute,” he said loud enough for all of them to hear. “Just a little shorthanded today.”
He stacked dirty dishes and glasses onto the big tray he’d pulled from behind the bar, wiping one table as he cleared it.
“Oh, Amy, look.” She watched Liam move around. “He’s limping. Was he wounded?”
“Buck said he wrecked one leg pretty bad, but he never talks about it. First time I’ve seen him limp, though.”
“Probably because he’s trying to hurry. God, he’ll hurt himself.” She took a long drink from her glass and slid out of the booth. “You just keep eating, okay?”
“Wait.” Amy grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”
“I did this in high school and for four years in college. Some things you never forget.”
“You can’t just go out there and start helping him.”
“Really? Watch me.”
Liam had just carried a load of dirty dishes into the kitchen and returned to attack the rest of the dirty tables. Charity grabbed the tray and the towel from him.
“You go on and take their orders,” she whispered. “I’ve got this.”
“What?” He looked at her, obviously startled. “Wait. What are you—”
“Go on. Take care of your customers.”
She smiled at the people waiting and went to work on the rest of the tables. It was obvious Liam wanted to argue with her, but he also had to take orders from the hungry patrons. When she had two more tables cleared and the tray loaded, she pushed into the kitchen through the swinging doors.
“Where do these go?” she asked the tall, gray-haired man standing by the grill.
He frowned. “You the new help? I didn’t know we hired anyone.”
“For the moment, and you didn’t.” She tipped her head at the tray. “Dishes?”
He gestured toward the wall behind him. “Dishwasher.”
Charity slid the platter onto the counter by the sink, opened the door to the big industrial dishwasher and loaded everything into it.
“Got two more tables to do.” She grinned at him. “Be right back.”
He scowled. “Liam know you’re doing this?”
“Doesn’t seem like he has much choice at the moment.” She glanced at the burgers he was flipping and the French fry basket he was tending. “If you plate those, I’ll get them next.”
Before he could say anything else, she headed for the doors, bumping into Liam. Heat blasted through her like a furnace and she almost dropped her tray. Hell. Was it impossible for her even to be near this man?
He scowled at her. “I’ve got this. You go back and finish your lunch.”
“You give those orders to the cook.” She made herself smile at him. “I’ve got this.”
She was sure he would have yanked the tray out of her hands and told her to get out of his business if the place hadn’t been so busy. He was so startled he just stood there while she pushed past him.
“The name’s Mac,” the cook hollered at her.
“Okay, Mac. Whatever.”
The cook glowered at her, but she had a feeling that was his normal expression.
For the next fifteen minutes, it was hectic, but Charity moved with the routine as if ten years hadn’t intervened. Amazingly, she felt alive for the first time in what seemed like forever. She bussed, she served, she smiled at people. She even smiled at Liam, who looked as if he wanted to throttle her. Except he needed her help, and he knew it. But she took care not to get close to him if she could help it. The sparks between them might set fire to the bar. Not to mention the fact that when their gazes connected, however briefly, she was stunned at the heat she saw simmering in his eyes. Or was it just her imagination?
Really, Charity? What happened to your solemn vow not to get hung up on a man again?
Finally, everyone had been served and the dishwasher turned on. She knew Liam would argue when she helped clean after the lunch crowd was gone, but she planned to do it anyway.
“Well, aren’t you just little Miss Champion Waitress.” Amy grinned at her when she slid back into the booth.
“Some things you never forget.” She ran her fingers through her curls, smoothing them down and let out a long breath. “Whew. I didn’t expect this place to be so busy at lunchtime.”
“It didn’t use to be. But Liam hired a cook, put in a basic menu and people come because the food is really good, it’s inexpensive and the atmosphere is comfortable.”
“Which is probably why it’s so busy.” She looked down at her food. “I should finish my lunch.”
“Not when it’s cold.” Liam’s voice rumbled in her ear as he lifted her plate and slid another one into its place. “Eat.”
She looked up at him, startled, opened her mouth to say something, but he interrupted her.
“Thanks. For the help. Now eat.” He gave the women a brief nod and walked back into the kitchen.
“Well.” Charity looked at Amy and laughed. “I didn’t know he could be so gracious.”
“Liam was never all that social before.” She fiddled with a cold French fry. “He was seven years ahead of me in school, so I never actually got to know him. He played football and worked summers on a ranch, and that’s about all I knew. Since he’s been back, he’s been even more closed off. He makes an effort for the customers though. I get the feeling this bar’s a lifeline for him. He’s never seen with anyone of the female persuasion.”
“That’s too bad.” Charity lifted her burger. “I’ll bet he’d be a hot date, if he let himself cut loose.”
“Charity. Holy cow. I thought you weren’t interested in anything but hanging out. No men, you said. No complications.”
“I did. Yup. That was my plan.” She put her food back down on the plate and leaned across the table. “That was exactly what I want. Or wanted. I’ve come to the conclusion I’m just no good at it.”
“That’s a stupid decision.”
“I didn’t think so. But…will you think I’m out of my mind if I tell you I feel this really strong connection to this man? I mean, it hit me out of nowhere. Before I even got here.”
She recited the very short version of what had happened at the convenience store.
Amy lifted an eyebrow. “No kidding? God, Charity, that’s like kismet or something.”
“Or something is right. The whole thing took less than two minutes. Crazy, right? And then seeing him the other night, knowing he actually lives right here in Saddle Wells where I came to put my life back together? I just…I feel like I have to push this a little.”
Amy smoothed back her ponytail. “You know, every woman in our little group has a story almost exactly like that. We all went with our instincts and it turned out great. But, honey, Liam’s a troubled man. It shows on him. So just be prepared for…for whatever. Okay?”
“First, I have to get him to talk to me again.” She sighed. “He might just be so pissed off at me he’ll throw me out and tell me never to come back.”
Amy lifted her eyebrows. “For helping him?”
“I get the idea he’s not a man who appreciates people insinuating themselves into his life and offering help.”
“He did bring you a hot lunch,” Amy pointed out.
“Well, yes, but—”
“But nothing. Eat up and go finish bussing tables. I can tell it’s what you’re dying to do.”
“Stupid, isn’t it?” She sighed but took another bite of the burger.
She tried not to rush through her food, not to gulp it down. But she watched Liam refilling glasses, handing out checks, nodding at things people said. And limping. All the time limping.
“Go,” Amy said. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
“Weird, isn’t it? I don’t even know the guy. And this is probably such a bad idea.”
“Bad or not, go do it. If you guys come to blows, at least you’ll get him out of your system.” She flicked her fingers at Charity. “Go on. I’ll be busy with my calls and texts.”
“You are not going to text all those women about this, right?”
Amy did her best to hide a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it. And you’re wasting time. Look. He’s trying to clean up again.”
“I’ve got it,” Liam growled when she picked up the empty tray he’d placed on one of the tables. “Go back to your friend.”
“But I’m having so much fun,” she teased.
The look in his eyes could have drilled holes in her body.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s just say I’m revisiting a former career. Now quit making an issue over this so we can get this place ready for happy hour.”
“We don’t have happy hour,” he grumped.
“Maybe that’s your problem. You probably need one.”
She shifted the tray and moved to the next table. Again, rote memory took over and she swiftly cleared, wiped, brushed, slid chairs into place. Back and forth to the kitchen, where she added the dishes to those already in the dishwasher. At last, everything was cleared away. The bar was empty of customers except for two men who had wandered in and were huddled in conversation at one end of the bar. Wiping perspiration from her face with a paper towel, she turned—and found Liam barely two inches away from her, glaring at her.
“We don’t expect customers to do our work.” He spat the words out as if they were bullets, each one pinging against her.