Chapter 54: Warning
Jackson's hands moved over his heart, and a roguish smile covered his lips. "Never call it such. Daisy Dame," he laughed. "I better go fix the jukebox before Floyd gets here and starts beating it again." "He does love his music," I muttered, turning my attention to the door as it opened.
Royce and Bryce, regulars at the bar, entered, shaking the snow from their jackets as they removed them. Grabbing a pitcher, I tipped it to fill for them and took the $20 bill he placed on the bar, breaking it into change for them to play pool. Once they headed off, I started mixing the drinks we'd serve for the special.
People began filing in as the clock ticked on, and the music got more bois- terous. I'd finished mixing the drinks for a group of women who were slumming it, their words, not mine. Jackson worked beside me, moving through the orders for the kitchen while I focused on the drinks.
I was pouring another pitcher of beer when the doors opened, and a man entered. My senses screamed in warning, and I slowly ran my gaze over his form. He didn't smell like a shifter or the undead. In fact, he didn't smell like anything, yet my hackles were up screaming in warning.
The man was tall. He was at least six inches over my height of six feet in the flat boots I wore. A tattoo started above one eyebrow, wrapping around it to vanish into his hairline. It looked sexy on him, where I wouldn't have thought a face tattoo would on anyone. His eyebrow was pierced, along with his lower lip.
He wore a suit vest but skipped wearing the jacket.
Sinfully dark blue eyes slid to mine, and I watched in silence as he ap- proached. Placing his coat into the empty chair beside him, he rolled up his white sleeves, revealing tattoos that covered his forearms, all the way down to his knuckles.
"Afternoon, beautiful," he said smoothly, revealing sparkling white teeth. His lip curled up farther on one side than the other, noticing that I was check- ing him out. "What's good here, other than the company?"
I snorted, rolling my eyes at the cockiness he oozed. "The pale ale or the Cedar Creek Brewery ale that's on tap is good."
"Which one do you prefer?" he asked, searching my face as his tongue played with the ring on his lip. His stare was hypnotizing. I inhaled his scent, stifling a moan as I tried to pinpoint his breed. He smelled intoxicatingly addictive, darkness mixed with masculinity and a hint of citrus. "I haven't tried either of them." I admitted, watching him closely.
His tongue slid back into his mouth as he frowned, leaning back to tap the bar. "You said they were good, but you don't know if either taste like piss or not?"
"I won't be able to tell you that for a few more months... I didn't catch your name," I stated, tilting my head.
"Cole. Pretty girls get to be on a first-name basis with me. You're not from around here, are you?" he asked, ignoring my comment about not being able to drink.
"Very observant. I'm from a small fishing village in Norway. It's the accent that's throwing you, isn't it?" I asked, pouring him both types of beer and placing them in front of him to decide which he wanted.
"Damn, you're far from home, aren't you? Come here alone, or is the dad here, too? Most men bail the moment they figure out they placed a bun in the oven these days. Assholes don't realize how lucky they are." I laughed, shaking my head at his bluntness. "He's not in the picture. He wouldn't have run away, though. I just didn't find out before I left, so he's unaware of our bun cooking."
"You intend to tell him?" Cole asked, frowning. "Eventually," I stated.
"Brianna, when you get a moment, refill?" Floyd asked, holding his empty pitcher up. I nodded, moving toward him to refill it. Marking it down on the paper for the tab, I turned as the door opened and more men entered.
"Something wrong, Brianna?" Jackson asked, and I smiled, covering up the nervousness rushing through me.
"I'm fine, just got flushed for a moment." I answered. Rubbing the back of my neck, I watched the new group make their way to a table. I always got ner- vous when I caught the scent of wolves entering the bar.
Unclaimed females typically became a target, and though I'd been claimed. Saint's scent had faded. It left me open to becoming a target to young wolves that didn't know any better. One wolf alone wouldn't be an issue, but add a few and my condition, and it could be a huge problem. Toralei slid in beside me, sensing the same thing I had.
"Locals?" she asked, her body shielding mine defensively. "Probably," I answered, stepping away from her to return to Cole. "Did you pick one?"
"The Cedar Creek was nice." He turned to watch as the group of men moved toward the bar. "Not friends of yours?" he asked, slowly moving his gaze back to meet mine. "Not yet," I chuckled as he chewed the piercing, giving me a dazzling smile.
"So, Cole," I started pouring his beer while holding his stare. "Are you from around here?" "No, I'm from the States. I'm up here on business. My friend lost some thing, and I came up to help him retrieve it."
"Must be important to come all the way up here to get it back," I muttered. "He thinks so, but then he probably should have figured that out before he lost it. Men, though, right? They tend to realize they fucked up after the fact. more often than not."
"Amen," I snorted, wondering if he was playing for the other team.
He was hot enough to be. The men down the bar shouted at the one at the jukebox, forcing my attention to them. One of the men studied me, his burning gaze sliding over my face before lowering to my midriff. Swallowing down the uneasiness I felt, I saw Jackson move toward them.
"I got this one, Brianna," he muttered, heading for the men. “Gentlemen, what will be your poison tonight?"
Sliding the glass of beer toward Cole, I wiped my hands on the cloth, turn- ing as Whoever Broke Your Heart, by Murphy Elmore, began to play. Cole tapped the bar with his knuckles, nodding.