Читать книгу Come Closer, Cowboy - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 10

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AT 6:00 MALLORY opened the heavy wooden doors of the Full Moon Saloon. She was officially open for business and damned if Sadie hadn’t been right. A dozen people were already waiting on the sidewalk.

Mostly cowboys, three of them chatting up guests from the Sundance dude ranch. She didn’t know that for a fact, but the women who tended to stay there were pretty easy to spot.

“Come on in,” she said. “Your first drink is on the house.”

A couple of energetic hoots made her smile as she stepped out of the way. They wasted no time filing inside, so she started for her post behind the bar while checking out the footwear. The men’s boots were clean—some looked new. All except for the short dusty cowboy who ignored the women and went straight for a barstool.

Yep, he would be the one who screwed up her floor.

Elaine was already filling pitchers with beer by the time Mallory got herself stationed by the bowls of garnish. The lemons and limes were cut into wedges. Sadie warned she’d go through the limes quickly. As for the olives and cherries, Mallory stocked only a couple bottles of each.

Although she really hoped she wouldn’t need them. Beer and shots had been the staples at the Renegade. Gin and tonic, rum and Coke, the obvious drinks were no problem. But her knowledge of fancy cocktails was shaky at best.

“Who wants pitchers?” Elaine yelled so loud, Mallory nearly jumped out of her jeans.

Several hands went up.

Mallory had wondered how the waitress had taken orders so fast, not that she minded the casual approach. It was comforting, actually. If she closed her eyes she could’ve been back home. After Elaine loaded her tray, Mallory took over the tap and filled a mug for the guy sitting at the bar.

“Hey, cool name. I love Full Moon Saloon.” A petite blonde walked up and leaned against the bar as she studied the bottles of liquor on the shelves behind Mallory.

She still wasn’t sure about the name. Days after she’d come up with it and tested it on Ben and Sadie, Mallory had recognized the subconscious link to Gunner. To that fateful night. She’d specifically remembered the moon was full because of her desperate attempt to explain her stupid error in judgment. Lots of crazy stuff happened on nights with full moons. Ask any cop.

“Let’s see...” The blonde leaned closer, squinting at the bottles of flavored tequila. “Do you have Jell-O shots?”

Mallory held in a groan.

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is our first night. Give us a break,” Elaine said as she returned to fill more pitchers. “Order a real drink.”

The blonde’s eyes widened.

Mallory had to look away. With her fickle mood, if she started laughing there was no telling when she’d stop. Of course she’d liked the thirtysomething waitress—that’s why she’d hired her. But she liked Elaine twice as much now.

“You must be related to Sadie,” Mallory muttered under her breath while reaching around Elaine for her order ticket.

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yep.”

“Um, excuse me,” the blonde said, and feeling duly ashamed—the woman was a customer, after all—Mallory gave her a smile. “Could you define ‘real drink’?”

Mallory tried not to look at Elaine. She really did. But their eyes met, briefly, and that was all it took. A laugh tickled the bottom of her throat as it forced its way up. For crying out loud, she wasn’t the giddy type. Exhaustion and nerves were to blame.

She had to get a grip. Another dozen or so people had entered the bar. They would never catch up if she didn’t put an end to this foolishness.

“How about a margarita?” Mallory asked the blonde who was looking impatient.

“Frozen?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

Mallory sighed. “Sure,” she said and nodded at the cowboy with the filthy boots, who was motioning for another beer.

For the next two hours, she and Elaine were so slammed they didn’t have time to look at each other, much less speak. Good thing. If Elaine had a moment to think she’d probably quit. And Mallory wouldn’t blame her. Every time the door opened, Mallory cringed. She sure didn’t need any more business tonight. Or any other night until she hired additional help.

Ten minutes and a dozen margaritas later, she took a quick gulp of cold water and straightened her back. She’d been hunched over the blender for most of the evening. Why had she suggested a margarita? Of course it became the popular choice of the night. For the women mostly. Thank God for beer-drinking cowboys.

Using the back of her wrist she pushed the hair off her face. So much for her nice, neat ponytail. She looked up just as the door opened and saw it was Ben and Grace. Awesome. Mallory had no qualms about putting Ben to work until they were caught up. She liked his girlfriend and might’ve hit her up, too, but Grace was the sheriff. Asking her to serve drinks didn’t seem kosher.

Mallory caught their attention and motioned them over. Ben responded with a nod. The smile of relief died on her lips when she saw the dark-haired man directly behind them. Her heart jumped wildly.

Gunner?

Couldn’t be.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. The glass she was holding almost slipped through her trembling fingers before she set it down.

How was this possible? He knew Ben, sure. Probably better than she did. They’d worked together sometimes and occasionally drank at the Renegade. But they were both loners and to call them friends would be a stretch. Or that’s what she’d thought.

Dammit. She didn’t need this, not now. Not ever.

They were making their way through the crowd, lingering here and there, when someone stopped to chat with Ben or Grace. But Gunner, from the second his eyes found hers, hadn’t looked away once. He just kept staring, his mouth curved in a tight smile that lowered her body temperature by ten degrees.

He needed a haircut and he clearly hadn’t shaved in several days. His face looked darker, from weeks in the hot Argentinian sun. Or from anger, maybe.

Goddamn Ben. Why hadn’t he said anything to her?

She pretended to mess with the blender, using it as an excuse to stare down while she struggled for composure.

“Excuse me? May I get some quarters?” It was the same blonde who’d started the run on frozen margaritas. She laid a five on the bar. “For the jukebox.”

Quarters. Mallory dried her unsteady hands. She had a tin of them somewhere. The hell with it. She opened the register and dug out some coins. “Here you go,” she said, stacking them on the five-dollar bill. “Keep your money.”

“Really? Thanks.” The woman scooped them into her palm, then turned and bumped into Gunner. “Oh,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Hello.”

Without a word, he stepped back to give her more room, his gaze remaining locked on Mallory.

“Go ahead. You can have him, too,” Mallory said, as they played the staring game.

The blonde giggled. Gave a breathless sigh. Did the hair toss. Moistened her lips.

Yep, Gunner Ellison was in the house.

Of course Ben had always received his fair share of female attention, as well. But Grace carried a gun so it probably wasn’t much of a problem in Blackfoot Falls.

After an awkward silence, the woman slipped away. Ben and Grace left a couple who’d stopped them and were headed for the bar.

Tension cramped Mallory’s neck and shoulders, but she refused to break eye contact with Gunner.

Jesus, one of them had to say something.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she said finally, just as Grace slid onto a barstool at the end of the bar.

“I’m sure it is.” His cool assessment didn’t waver. Oh, he was pissed, all right.

“Hey.” Mallory turned to smile at Grace. And then Ben when he came up behind Grace and put his hands on her shoulders. Even though he was a traitor and they’d have words later. No. He couldn’t have known.

“Wow, you’re busy,” Grace said. “Please. Just ignore us.”

“She will.” Gunner leaned an elbow on the bar and gave her a lazy smile. “Mallory’s good at that.”

“I need drinks over here,” Elaine called out from the tap at the other end, her patience clearly slipping.

“Sorry.” Mallory hurried over, embarrassed to see the waitress busting ass filling mugs and pitchers, and scooping up glasses of ice. Mallory glanced at the first two drink tickets and grabbed bottles of tequila and rum from the shelf.

Dammit, she’d planned to ask for Ben’s help, though she wouldn’t now. Better he keep his guest busy and away from her.

She poured two shots, head bent, letting loose strands of hair hide part of her face before she slid a look down the bar.

Gunner wasn’t there.

Where the hell—?

“Move over.” His rough palm on her arm made her jump. “I’ll get the mixed drinks.”

“No, thanks,” she said, refusing to budge. “We’re fine.”

Elaine turned her awestruck look from Gunner to glare at Mallory. The message was clear—Accept his offer or I’ll kill you in your sleep.

“Fine.” Mallory barely got the word out before he’d put his hands on her hips and moved her over a foot.

He set the drink tickets in a row so he could easily read them, lined up glasses, for both cocktails and shots, dispensed ice cubes in one fluid motion, then went to work pouring and mixing.

As soon as Elaine left with her loaded tray, Mallory took over the tap. She told herself that standing near him was nothing. How many times had he helped her on busy nights at the Renegade? Fifty? Sixty times? Probably more.

Except, back then, they hadn’t had sex yet. She hadn’t known the hot, bone-melting feel of his mouth on hers, or experienced the sweet rough texture of his tongue as he licked a path to her breasts.

And then making her wait. And wait. Her tightened nipple aching so badly she’d thought she would go crazy before he finally sucked it into his mouth.

After that he’d kind of lost it, too, impatiently stripping off her panties then lowering his mouth...

Mallory shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She exchanged a filled mug for an empty one and pressed an ice cube to her throat. “It’s hot in here,” she muttered.

He gave her a faintly mocking smile.

“Shut up, Gunner. I mean it.”

Beer foamed over the mug’s rim and spilled onto her hand. It took two tries for her to shut off the tap. She swallowed a string of curses as she grabbed a clean rag and mopped up.

“Excuse me.” A pretty redhead was looking at Gunner. “What nights will the band play?”

“Ask the boss,” he said, nodding at Mallory.

“I haven’t found one yet, and the stage needs more work. But I’m hoping to have live music soon.”

“Thanks.” The redhead didn’t care. She’d only wanted an excuse to talk to Gunner.

It was a familiar scenario. Women were always drawn to him. Mallory hated that she cared.

“You have dartboards in the back, but I don’t see any darts.” Again, the woman addressed Gunner, then leaned over the bar for a look. “Do you have some back there?”

Mallory doubted she’d find them behind Gunner’s fly.

He kept pouring drinks but glanced at Mallory. “Sweetheart, where are the darts?”

She sucked in a breath. “Right here,” she said, and stooped to open a lower cabinet. He’d never called her that before, and she didn’t know what game he was playing. She straightened and handed over the box of darts. “Sorry about that.”

A look of disappointment on the other woman’s face cheered Mallory, making her twice the fool. If Gunner had intended to mislead the redhead, it was only because he wasn’t interested. Or he had his eye on someone else.

Mallory glanced around the room. Lots of pretty women had turned out, mostly in pairs or groups. And now some of them were starting to line up at the bar to get their drinks directly from Gunner. Great. Just great.

After she filled two pitchers, she walked over to Ben and Grace, who had settled in. They were busy talking to people but she felt bad she hadn’t even offered them a drink.

She waited for a break in the conversation and asked, “What can I get you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Grace said, at the same time Ben said, “Beer.”

Grace leaned back and gave him a look.

“Hey, I was going to offer to help,” he said. “But it’s too crowded back there. At least Gunner seems to know what he’s doing.”

Mallory hesitated. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“He wanted to surprise you.”

“Ah.” She knew what kind of beer Ben drank and got a bottle from the fridge. “Grace? Beer? Wine? I have both red and white, but they’re just okay.”

“Beer’s fine,” Grace said, and grabbed Ben’s bottle before he could.

He just grinned and stole a kiss.

Mallory couldn’t help smiling. They were the most adorable couple. Ben had changed. She didn’t know whether it was because of Grace or Blackfoot Falls, or maybe it was a combination of the two, but he seemed more relaxed, certainly happier.

Something made her turn her head. Gunner was watching her. She lost the sappy smile and got a second beer from the fridge. Before she twisted off the cap she said, “Grace, maybe you’d like Gunner to make you a mai tai?”

“A what?”

“Or some fancy blended drink.”

Ben laughed and took the bottle from Mallory. “Don’t piss off the help, especially when it’s free labor.”

Grace just smiled and gave her a curious look.

Mallory winced. She’d have to watch her tone. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

Elaine was garnishing the drinks Gunner had made and grinning at something he said. Mallory spotted two tickets with beer orders and she slid in to man the tap.

“I can deliver these pitchers if you tell me which tables,” she told Elaine, who’d been moving nonstop.

“Nah, I should be back by the time you’re finished.” She hefted the loaded tray and nodded toward the stage. “The mug is for Mike. I’m pretty sure he’d rather you take it to him,” she said with a mischievous smile before heading for the back room.

Mallory sighed. What was it with Elaine and Sadie? Why were they trying to fix her up with him?

“Who’s Mike?”

She looked at Gunner. For a few wonderful, blessed moments, she’d forgotten he was there. “A guy who did some carpentry work for me.” Gunner turned his head and she saw that his hair was touching the collar of his blue polo shirt. He never let it go like that, not even when he was away working for long periods of time. But damn he looked good.

“The guy sitting alone to the left of the stage?” he asked, turning back to stare at her.

“What?”

“Is that Mike?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked for him. What do you care, anyway?” She noticed a couple sitting near Ben trying impatiently to get her attention. Damn. Her grand opening and she was going to chase everyone away.

She felt Gunner watching her as she went to get refills. Those mesmerizing gray eyes still got to her every time. When she’d first met him when she was sixteen, she hadn’t been that into boys yet, but she remembered thinking he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen. He’d been twenty-one at the time so of course he’d barely noticed her.

For weeks he’d come to the bar almost every day. Then he’d disappear for a month. She’d known it was partly his job that kept him away. But when a year had gone by without him making a single appearance, she’d figured that was it...she’d never see him again. And then out of the blue Gunner had started showing up, three or four times a week when he wasn’t away on location.

By then she’d turned twenty-one and was working full-time at the Renegade. A year later her dad had died unexpectedly. An aneurism, the doctor had said. No apparent cause. Mallory had figured all the hard living had caught up to him. Bitter that his stunt career had been cut short, he’d drank a lot, smoked anything that was rolled and screwed any woman who’d let him. He wasn’t so different from a lot of the stunt guys who’d helped keep the Renegade in business.

Of course many just had one or two drinks then left to go home to their wives. Gunner fell somewhere in the middle. He’d done some hell-raising in his twenties but not lately. And while he could drink with the best of them, only twice had she seen him truly drunk.

Mallory slipped past him to get to the tap, and thankfully, Elaine returned at the same time. Questions burned in Gunner’s eyes, but no way would Mallory deal with them now. Or ever, if she had her say.

“You didn’t take Mike his beer,” Elaine said, and then briefly eyed Gunner as if she’d just realized he might be the reason. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

Mallory watched her pick up the mug. She should’ve just taken it to Mike and thanked him for coming to the opening. But she couldn’t do it in front of Gunner. It was stupid. But somehow she knew she’d fumble.

She felt those stormy gray eyes on her again. She turned and met them full-on. “What?”

He gave a slight shrug before looking to see if Elaine had left a ticket. She hadn’t. It was the first lull of the night. He picked up a dry bar rag and wiped his hands.

“You need a haircut.”

“I was too busy leaving voice mails.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she avoided his gaze by checking the bowl of lime wedges. They still had a lot. She looked up and saw Mike lifting a hand. She smiled back at him.

Two tables to his left, she noticed a young woman who’d applied for the waitress job. Mallory couldn’t recall her name, but Elaine would know. If the woman was willing, Mallory would hire her on the spot.

Either way, there was no need for Gunner to stay.

She was about to tell him so when she felt pressure around her waist.

It was Gunner.

Behind her. His hands sliding down to cup her hips.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he said, trying, though not very hard, to move her to the right. “I need to get more glasses.”

Without making a fuss, she managed to push his hands away. “Touch me again and I’ll—” Okay, that might’ve been too loud. She clamped her lips together.

“What? Hmm, Mallory?” he whispered with a half smile. “What are you going to do? Move to Alaska?”