Jo Leigh – The Navy Seal's Rescue (страница 8)

“No thanks.”

Her lips pursed in a pout, a very fetching pout. But no way he was going anywhere near that. Not just because she was an employee. Sexy, persistent Lila was built like a wet dream, but being in the vicinity of twenty-two, she made him feel a hundred years old. Hell, being with anyone that young would just exhaust him.

On the other hand, looking wouldn’t kill him. He watched her curvy hips sway in rhythm with the jukebox music as she made her way around a rowdy group of surfers from Australia.

“Hey, Covack, you up for another game later?”

He turned just as Bobby pulled out a stool and dropped his car keys on the bar. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Cappelli.”

“What? You don’t honestly think I cheated.” Bobby chuckled. “Come on. Why would I waste the energy?”

Ignoring him, Wyatt wiped down the bar. Arnie was sitting two stools down, crying in his beer over his lousy morning catch. A lot of the older fishermen frequented the bar when there weren’t too many tourists crowding the place.

Arnie glanced up and pushed his empty mug forward.

“You got a ride home tonight?” Wyatt asked him.

The old man nodded. “Left the truck with Thelma.”

Wyatt believed him and poured him a refill. Arnie was one of the more responsible drunks.

“The trouble with you is, you think you’re good at poker,” Cappelli said. “But you stink, and I don’t mind taking your money while you try proving otherwise.”

“Yeah, keep it up. Like I don’t already wanna throw your ass out.”

Grinning, Bobby pulled out a wad of cash, half of which had been in Wyatt’s pocket last night. “Give me a Scotch,” he said, peeling off a twenty. “In fact make it Glenfiddich. I’m feeling flush tonight.”

Wyatt flipped him off.

Cappelli laughed and swiveled around to survey the room. “Dude, you need to do something with this place. It doesn’t just look like it belongs in a trailer park, it would have to be a condemned trailer park.”

Yeah, most of the piñatas were old and faded. He’d been told on more than one occasion the dangling bikini tops were offensive. Maybe. But most of the locals thought they were funny and part of the landmark bar’s signature. “The place has character.”

“Sure, if all you care about is the local crowd.” Cappelli appeared to have caught a back view of Lila leaning over a table and suddenly he had no more opinions to share.

Good.

The newest hire, Shelly, stood at the end of the bar waving an order ticket. Wyatt nodded as he poured the jerk’s Scotch. Not that he’d admit it, but Cappelli had a point. Wyatt had been thinking along those lines as he watched tourists and reunion people float in and out all afternoon. If he wanted to be a serious business owner, better yet, a more profitable one, he had to get his act together.

He should’ve contacted the hotel, or whoever was in charge of the reunion activities, to get a copy of the weekend’s agenda. Figure out how he could attract the prep schoolers during the times they had no organized functions.

If turning a healthy profit was just about him, he wouldn’t give a damn. But he had Becky and the kids to consider. They were the whole reason he’d moved here. To make sure they were safe and had everything they needed. Becky was certainly a smart, competent woman, but it was tough for her to work full-time with two little kids at home. The monthly widow’s benefit she received from the government was decent but could only go so far. Adam’s grandparents lived nearby and helped however they could, but they’d already gotten up in years when they’d raised Adam.

Jesus, someone must’ve just gone through a shitty breakup. Wyatt looked up from the Sex on the Beach he was mixing to see which idiot was playing “Un-Break My Heart” for at least the hundredth time. His gaze didn’t make it to the jukebox. The brunette from this afternoon had just entered the bar, all dolled up in a short red dress that showed off long killer legs. He chuckled when he saw she was barefoot, a pair of five-inch red stilettos dangling from her hand. Man, he didn’t think he’d walk barefoot on this floor, even though it was washed every night after closing.

Evidently she figured that out for herself. Her lips moved as she looked down at her feet and made a face. Grabbing the back of a chair, she quickly slipped on the heels, then glanced around.

It was a sure bet she’d join the Ivy League trio.

A bet he would’ve lost. The second she spotted them she turned her head, completely cool and collected, as she swept her gaze in the opposite direction while strategically arranging her long dark hair to hide the side of her face. She zeroed in on the empty barstools and headed toward them.

Wyatt didn’t want her sitting anywhere near Bobby, or Mad Dog, who was downing shots to Bobby’s left. “Hey, Cappelli, move over three stools.”

“What?” He glanced warily at the large, bearded biker. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“You’re nuts.”

“If you need a fourth, I’ll play tonight. But you gotta move now.”

“I’m holding you to it.” Cappelli got up, stepped back and nearly plowed into the woman. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t...” His voice trailed off as he turned, his eyes level with her chest. Bobby was short and she was wearing very high heels. He looked at Wyatt. “You dog.”

“What?” Wyatt said, laughing. “Move and let the lady sit.”

Bobby pulled out a stool for her. Then the jerk sat right next to her. That wasn’t the deal.

“Am I chasing you away?” she asked.

“I should be so lucky,” Wyatt said, shooting Cappelli a warning look. “Cricket, right?”

Her brows rose and she blinked at him.

“We met this afternoon.”

“Oh, I remember,” she said with a slow smile. “It’s just... I haven’t been called Cricket in a while and I’m trying to get used to it again.”

“So, what should we call you?” Bobby was all teeth, his body twisted around, elbow on the bar, facing her.

Wyatt shook his head. “Ignore him. He’ll go away. Now, what can I get you?”

She laughed. “I believe you’re supposed to surprise me?”

“Right.” Wyatt thought about it as he took in her manicured hands, neat, trimmed nails with a faint gloss, nothing flashy. She wore minimal jewelry, earrings and a watch, both classy but understated. No ring, and if she’d ever worn one, it had been a long time. “Did you drive?”

“I walked.”

“You staying at the Seaside?”

She nodded. “Only ten minutes by beach,” she said with the smile that had drawn him in the first time he’d seen her. “Did I pass? Do I get some alcohol now?”

“Sounds like you need it.”

“Most definitely.”

“Yeah, reunions must be a b—” He didn’t finish.

“A bitch? Yep.”

He’d already decided what to pour her. Nothing fancy, not for her. Figuring he’d start off with something as high-end as those earrings, he grabbed a glass and a bottle of his Lagavulin twelve-year Scotch, which he liked better than the Glenfiddich. Neat or on the rocks, he wasn’t sure about that detail.

Wyatt went for neat. And was rewarded with another one of her gorgeous smiles.

* * *

SO HE’D GUESSED she was a Scotch drinker. Wyatt was either really good at reading people, or Cricket hadn’t left the no-nonsense image behind in Chicago like she thought. She watched him hesitate, probably wondering if she drank it on the rocks.

Seeing Ginny and Harlow had felt good, and it would be even better when they connected with Jade once she straightened out her delayed flight—she was hoping to arrive sometime around 2:00 a.m. Jessica—no, Cricket—hoped she didn’t regret promising to wait up for her. Ginny had left the reception early to pick up her daughter from a party. Harlow had hooked up with a football player from back in the day, a guy Cricket barely remembered. They’d begged her to join them but she’d lied. Told them she had a headache and she still hadn’t seen Ronny yet. That part about her dad was true.

They’d talked on the phone when he returned from the fishing charter. She’d just gotten to the reception and he’d had a long, taxing day and suggested she come over for breakfast tomorrow. Waiting for anything wasn’t Ronny’s strong suit, and after what Ginny had told her about his accident, Cricket hoped he wasn’t avoiding her.

No, that was crazy. Ronny probably hadn’t given it a thought. Nothing fazed him. It wouldn’t have occurred to him that Cricket might be worried about his health.

She looked down at the Scotch the bartender slid across the bar to her. Neat. Perfect. She’d been surprised that he hadn’t given her the Glenfiddich that was already down, but had gone for the top of the line. Trying to score points? When she took her first sip, she gave him a ten out of ten.

She heard the guy next to her sigh, and realized he’d been trying to hit on her, but she’d been lost in her own thoughts, and if there was one thing she’d learned how to do in law school, it was ignore distractions. Luckily his phone rang and he quickly got involved in the call.

“So, did I get it right?” Wyatt folded his muscled arms across his chest and leaned back. His gray eyes looked darker than they had this afternoon, his stubbled jaw, as well. And damn, he was still hot.

“Oh, yes.” She lifted the glass in a salute, then took another sip. “But you would’ve been right with wine or beer, as well.”