Chapter One
Tammy-Ray Lynch couldn’t stop staring at the guy sitting at the end of the bar.
There was something strange about him.
Sure, he was tall, and was disciplined in the gym, clearly. His beard was that two-day designer scruff, and he was dressed in the exact style she preferred—jeans and boots, and a worn T-shirt that hugged the strong curves of his shoulders and fell looser at the waist. He was hot, for sure, but there was something more about him that drew her attention. It was the dark yellow hue in his eyes, and the heaviness that seemed to cling to every single molecule of air within a twenty-foot radius of him.
She’d never been so acutely aware of a person in her entire life.
He was studying a newspaper, and while part of her was a little shocked that newspapers still existed, another part of her was extremely curious about what he was circling with the pen in his large hand.
He’d only looked at her once, to order a drink. He’d asked for an iced tea at a bar. Strange. But then again, it was only one in the afternoon. Maybe he was just warming up with the tea.
“Order’s up,” Jimmy said from the kitchen window, startling Tammy out of her one-person-stare-down with Yellow Eyes.
The man, about age thirty-five if she had to guess, glanced up at her for just a moment and then gave his attention back to the newspaper, a frown etched into his dark eyebrows.
He hadn’t said a word except for his order, which was currently steaming away in the kitchen window.
“I’ll be right back with your food,” she said in her most polite bartender voice.
He didn’t say anything or even look up at her again. Okay.
She bustled to the window and grabbed the steak sandwich basket, then dropped it in front of him. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Mmm,” he grunted. Was it a grunt of thanks? Or a go-away grunt? She couldn’t tell.
It was dead in the bar she worked in right now, but it would pick up in a few hours when the roughnecks around here started getting off work. It was different bartending here than Bozeman. The bar scene here was more cowboy and less city. She’d moved here a month ago for a couple of reasons. One, she needed a fresh start. Two, it was closer to the college she attended classes at two days a week. And three, Harley Monroe of the Cold Foot Crew had convinced her this was the right move.
They’d become friends after she’d met her on a bartending night last year, and while she wasn’t one for spontaneous decisions in general, it felt nice to get the hell out of Bozeman after her breakup.
It was just all right here so far. The town was slow, and so were tips.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked politely to the Giant at the end of the bar top.
He offered her a hard glance, then went back to eating without a word.
Tammy-Ray pursed her lips and kept her ‘learn-some-manners’ comment stifled in her throat.
God, she couldn’t wait to move on from bartending jobs.
Most of the time when a customer was this rude to her, they at least had the excuse of being drunk. This guy was just an asshole on iced tea.
The front door to the 406 Saloon opened, and when she saw who it was striding towards her, she grinned. “Aw, here comes trouble.”
Dylan Hoffman slapped a stack of flyers onto the bar top. “I have a huge favor to ask.”
“No, you can’t have the family discount,” she teased, wiping down the countertop beside the stack of papers.
“I just got a raise,” he said, his eyebrows arched up. “I can getyoua beer now. Full price.”
She snorted. “How many girls have you taken from this bar to your home in the last month I have worked here?”
“None.”
She cocked her head and waited.
“Maybe one,” he amended, but didn’t look sheepish about it. The devil was in his remorseless smile.
