Page 9 of Ruger's Rage
The bruises from that night have been gone for years now, but sometimes I swear I can still see them.
She retired from the hospital but bought the bar and works here now—says it keeps her busy, keeps her mind off things.
"Hey, honey," she says, shooting me a bright smile. "Tildie, meet my nephew Ruger."
The new bartender, Tildie, turns at the sound of my name.
When our eyes meet, something electric passes between us.
Her amber eyes widen slightly, and I notice how her tongue darts out to wet her lips nervously.
Up close, she's even more stunning.
Full lips that naturally form a pout, a smattering of freckles across her nose, and holy hell, those curves.
Her tank top hugs her voluptuous breasts, and her jeans cling to hips that were made for a man's hands to grip.
She already reaches for a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "The usual, Ruger?"
I shoot my eyebrows up, already impressed. "You know my drink?"
A small smile crosses her face. "Ellie told me what the regulars drink."
I settle onto a barstool, watching her pour two fingers of whiskey like a damn professional.
When she slides the glass across the bar, our fingers brush. The contact sends electricity shooting up my arm, and I see her breath catch.
"Thanks, darlin'."
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture that I find surprisingly sexy. "You're welcome."
I take a slow sip of the whiskey."How long you been working here? Think my aunt has been hidin' you away."
I know it hasn't been long. Aunt Ellie told me that much.
Honestly, Aunt Ellie let her other bartender go, so now she and Tildie are handling the bar most days.
She hasn't told me why she finally gave Veronica the can, but I have some ideas, and none of them are good.
Her voice is cautious, like she's not sure how much to reveal. "About six months."
"Ah, you from West Virginia?"
"No, the Pittsburgh area." She pauses, then adds, "But I've been in Morgantown for a while now."
I notice how she avoids giving specifics, how her shoulders tense slightly with my question.
This woman has secrets, and my curiosity is piqued.
"Your aunt told me you were the President, um, but it's on your cut too," she observes, nodding toward my leather vest.
"Good eye."
"Hard to miss." She starts wiping down the bar, her movements coming like second nature. "Ellie talks about you sometimes."
"All good things, I hope."
The corner of her mouth twitches. "She says you're complicated."
