“The alcohol and the bill at the end are handled by the barman,” he filled in for her. “In England, the waitress typically offers food and attitude in equal portions—Bridget being masterful at both. I’m impressed, actually. She let me cool my heels for almost fifteen minutes first time I was in. She must like you.”
Jane’s look before she rose smoothly and headed for the bar said that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him. Wouldn’t surprise him a bit.
The view from behind was just as pleasant as the one from the front. He watched her all through the long process of Hal the barman drawing a pint of Guinness and couldn’t find a thing to complain about. She wore fine, but not senseless shoes—just enough heel to shape her calf nicely without getting all painfully fashionista or awkward. The dress accented without revealing. He wouldn’t mind if she stayed in town for a while. Not one bit.
As she collected her glass and turned back for the table, he did his best to be looking elsewhere when she returned. Only at the last moment did he remember he was holding a newspaper and he stared down at it. It took a moment to understand that it was upside down. He didn’t change it, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Instead, he folded it in half and set it aside as a lost cause—almost taking out his beer glass again.
Once seated she didn’t sip her beer, she quaffed down at least a quarter of it as if she was either painfully dry or wanted to get painfully drunk.
“You’re so busted, by the way,” again she spoke without turning from the fire.
“I am? For what?”
“There’s a mirror behind the bar.”
He glanced up just as Bridget moved to where Jane had been standing. Yep, his staring had been in Jane’s full view the whole time.
“Shit!”
Jane liked that Mr. Not-at-all-smooth didn’t try to deny it. Somehow that earned him more credit than any bravado or lame apology.
“Maybe if you weren’t so stare-worthy in that dress.”
She glanced down and felt ill. She’d forgotten about the dress.
“Were you up at the manor for that posh wedding?”
Jane really didn’t want to be reminded of her sister’s wedding. Debbie had married the Earl of Evenston’s fourth son, who’d made a moderate fortune in computers. The groom hadn’t been some cool, geeky programmer with a brilliant idea. Geoffrey was an arrogant prick who’d bought out a company at just the right time, bilking the early investors of their hard-won payoff because some idiot in a pub had let him know that they were just months from a ground-breaking delivery that even the board hadn’t known about yet.
It had always been a life’s goal for Debbie to marry into money. The shock was that she’d actually pulled it off. With anyone else, Jane would give the marriage a year at best. But Debbie was just selfish and greedy enough that they’d probably settle in nicely at the manor together over screaming fights, fine martinis, and wild affairs that would end up on the front page of the paper Mr. Unsmooth had been reading upside down.
“Can’t a girl get drunk in peace here?” She turned on him and it came out far harder than she liked. Absolute bitch. She’d just earned the label fair and square, which made her far too much like her sister. Back to staring blankly at the fire, “Sorry.”
“Bad day?”
“Understatement of the bloody century.”
“Century’s still young yet. Besides, you’ll want to be careful with that,” his warning tone made her look over at him. “The B-word over here is worse than our F-word back home. Ruddy will get the spirit of it without offending the masses.”
“Don’t need a bloody linguistics lesson today either,” she went to turn away but his laugh stopped her. “What?”
“To think that I worry about English waitresses giving me attitude.”
“Do you deserve it?”
He tipped his head to the side before nodding, “Maybe. Probably.” Again points for honesty.
She hadn’t really focused on him. He was just another thing wrong with her day. He looked like a common workman. His hair had needed a trim a few months ago. Dressed in dusty slacks, battered work boots, and a denim shirt—a denim shirt that he filled out very nicely. He obviously worked hard with his hands, they were as powerfully muscled as the forearms sticking out past his rolled-up sleeves.
Geoffrey’s hand, when she’d shaken it and then wished for a restroom to wash off the feeling, had never lifted anything heavier than a fountain pen. How could Debbie want to be touched by those hands? Debbie wouldn’t care. She’d be thinking about the massive checks Geoffrey could sign with that fountain pen to accommodate her slightest whim. He’d given her a hot pink Ferrari as a wedding gift this morning. Jane couldn’t wait for Debbie to explain she couldn’t drive a manual. Maybe Geoffrey couldn’t either. Wouldn’t that be the perfect joke?
Mr. Unsmooth was handsome in a hard way. Not all square-jawed or chisel-featured. It was his eyes, she decided. He’d seen things with those dark eyes, uncomfortable things. Things people like her probably didn’t want to know about.
Now it was her turn to laugh.
“What?”
She shook her head and knocked back more of her beer. It felt so good, smooth and cool with just the slightest cleansing of carbonation. Smooth, mule-kick beer. She should have the bartender set up a whole line of them.
“Come on. You owe me,” his voice was almost as deep as his eyes. The kind of voice a woman could wrap around her on a cold night.
“For what?”
“For revealing how much of a dolt I can be around a beautiful woman.”
Maybe the beer was having a fast effect on her empty stomach—or maybe it was the two large glasses of wine and no food she’d had before leaving the wedding—but she couldn’t find a fault in his argument.
“Spill it,” he made it sound like an order but he had a good smile and she let it sway her.
“My sister’s wedding is only half over. I should take you back for the second half to meet the groom, Geoffrey. I’m sure the two of you could be such pals.”
He almost spat his beer out on her in shock. “Your sister is marrying Geoffrey, the Third Worm of Evenston?”
“Fourth Worm.” What an apt description.
“No, I hear that the eldest brother is a good bloke. It’s the younger three that are horrors, especially Geoffrey.”
“Horrors?” Maybe she should warn her sister, not that Debbie would ever listen to her. But her mother had made her promise to take care of Debbie. It’s the only reason she’d come to the wedding in the first place. There was still a chance that—
“No, not the way I can see you’re thinking. Just egomaniac twits.”
“Peas in a pod.”
He looked at her strangely. No surprise really. Nothing Debbie ever did could surprise her. Disappoint? Always. Surprise? Not anymore.
Jane drank more of her beer, confused to discover that she was into the dregs. How had that happened so fast?
His beer was still nearly full.
“Well, are you going to finish that up?”
He inspected his barely-touched beer, “Why, are you wanting it?”
“No,” she did her best to make the yeasty burp ladylike and felt that she succeeded admirably. “I’m just thinking that you’ll want to finish that before you go to meet Geoffrey. There are some things that should not be done sober.”
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Heart of the Cotswolds: England
About the Author
M.L. Buchman started the first of, what is now over 50 novels and as many short stories, while flying from South Korea to ride his bicycle across the Australian Outback. Part of a solo around the world trip that ultimately launched his writing career.
All three of his military romantic suspense series—The Night Stalkers, Firehawks, and Delta Force—have had a title named “Top 10 Romance of the Year” by the American Library Association’s Booklist. NPR and Barnes & Noble have named other titles “To
p 5 Romance of the Year.” In 2016 he was a finalist for Romance Writers of America prestigious RITA award. He also writes: contemporary romance, thrillers, and fantasy.
Past lives include: years as a project manager, rebuilding and single-handing a fifty-foot sailboat, both flying and jumping out of airplanes, and he has designed and built two houses. He is now making his living as a full-time writer on the Oregon Coast with his beloved wife and is constantly amazed at what you can do with a degree in Geophysics. You may keep up with his writing and receive a free starter e-library by subscribing to his newsletter at: www.mlbuchman.com
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Also by M. L. Buchman
* also sweet version / + also audio
The Night Stalkers
Main Flight
The Night Is Mine
I Own the Dawn
Wait Until Dark
Take Over at Midnight
Light Up the Night
Bring On the Dusk
By Break of Day
White House Holiday
Daniel’s Christmas+
Frank’s Independence Day+
Peter’s Christmas+
Zachary’s Christmas
Roy’s Independence Day
Damien’s Christmas
and the Navy
Christmas at Steel Beach
Christmas at Peleliu Cove
5E
Target of the Heart
Target Lock on Love
Target of Mine
Firehawks
Main Flight
Pure Heat
Full Blaze
Hot Point+
Flash of Fire+
Wild Fire
Smokejumpers
Wildfire at Dawn
Wildfire at Larch Creek
Wildfire on the Skagit
Delta Force
Main Flight
Target Engaged+
Heart Strike+
Wild Justice+
Henderson’s Ranch
Nathan’s Big Sky*
Love Abroad B&B
Heart of the Cotswolds: England*
Where Dreams
Where Dreams are Born*
Where Dreams Reside*
Where Dreams Are of Christmas*
Where Dreams Unfold*
Where Dreams Are Written*
Eagle Cove
Return to Eagle Cove*
Recipe for Eagle Cove*
Longing for Eagle Cove*
Keepsake for Eagle Cove*
Deities Anonymous
Cookbook from Hell: Reheated
Saviors 101
Dead Chef
Swap Out!
One Chef!
Two Chef!
SF/F Titles
The Nara Reaction
Monk’s Maze
The Me and Elsie Chronicles
Strategies for Success
Managing Your Inner Artist / Writer
Estate Planning for Authors+
* * *
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Copyright 2017 Matthew Lieber Buchman
Published by Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the author.
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Cover images:
Montana Mountains And Wildflowers © Ramblingman
Montana Glacier Park © Brian Flaigmore
Young couple riding a horse © Dusan Kostic
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Big Sky, Loyal Heart Page 22