Page 8 of 40 and Flirting (with Disaster) (Silver Foxes of Black Wolf’s Bluff #5)

Eight

L adies’ night. He hadn’t been to a ladies’ night in a long time.

He chuckled at the thought as he pulled on his dress shirt and buttoned the front down his chest. Sleeves rolled up.

What was it his son had said women called that now?

Arm porn? He flexed his forearm and noticed the muscles popping under his tanned skin.

A redhead usually didn’t tan, but he spent so much time outside with the horses that his skin hadn’t had a choice.

At least it looked good against the white of his shirt.

Would Iris notice? That’s all he really cared about. He’d offer her arm porn all night if it would get her to notice him.

It had been five days and Baby was still holding on to her foal, so he slipped his cell into his pocket after making sure the vibrate function was on.

He didn’t want to risk missing contact if the music was too loud for him to hear.

They were literally in the “any day now” period.

Michael, his son, would be home this evening and keeping an eye on things while Jamie was out.

He typically spent afternoons and evenings at the restaurant, but his assistant manager, Francisco, had the dinner shift covered tonight so he could be off, and Michael was watching things here as usual.

All Jamie had to worry about was getting himself into town and finding a way to approach Iris so that it didn’t appear that he was stalking her.

Which he wasn’t, not really. At least not in a creepy way. He probably wouldn’t know so much of her routine were it not for his friendship with Erin.

“Headed out?” Michael asked as Jamie passed through the kitchen. His dark auburn head was stuck inside the fridge, where he was rummaging around.

“I am.” Jamie shoved his keys and wallet into the pocket of his dress slacks. “Are you stealing my food again?”

Michael had a kitchen in the bunkhouse they’d converted into an apartment for him to live in, not a hundred yards from Jamie’s door, but his son preferred to eat here for some reason.

Not that Jamie minded. It was nice to have Michael around.

With Marilyn and the other hands, things were hardly ever silent, and Jamie found his occasional night off far too quiet when no one was coming in and out of his kitchen door.

Michael backed out of the fridge, a packet of ham caught between his teeth, arms piled high with sandwich fixings. “Forgot to get groceries,” he mumbled, walking the food toward the kitchen island.

Jamie smirked. “Of course you did.”

“Want one?” his son asked, spreading the bounty out on the counter.

“I’ve got wings waiting for me.”

“Damn.” Michale paused in his sandwich making. “That does sound good. Maybe—”

Jamie headed for the door. “No! I’ve got things to do that don’t involve my son—and you’ve got a mare to keep an eye on.”

“Sounds like I’m not the only one keeping my eye on a mare,” Michael shot back, his grin sly.

“I’m not comparing a woman to a horse.” Stopping with the door half-open, he turned back to his son and winked. “But I might introduce you if things go well.”

Michael laughed, the sound reminding Jamie of the gruff rumble that usually came out of his own mouth. When had his child become a man? Many years ago, as Jamie knew full well, but sometimes he forgot that this wasn’t his teenager anymore.

“Get after it, Dad,” Michael called as Jamie walked out the door.

“I will!” He shook his head at his son’s antics, but both his laugh and his footsteps were light as he made his way to the car.

The Drunken Otter was a favorite in Black Wolf’s Bluff.

Not only was it the only pub/bar in town (aside from a biker bar on the outskirts that most people wouldn’t venture to), but Clayton Harding was known for the best wings money could buy.

His golden sauce with its brown-sugar base was renowned throughout the state, the jars selling for around ten dollars a pop, though Jamie was pretty certain he could charge fifteen and still have trouble keeping them in stock.

Ladies’ night was especially popular. Jamie parked halfway up the street leading off the west side of the square, near the post office.

Walking the block and a half back to the Drunken Otter didn’t bother him; it was a mild summer night, a cool-ish breeze stirring the air and rustling through the tree leaves as he traveled beneath them.

The closer he got to the south end of the square, the more foot traffic picked up, people going in and out of the pub, hanging around in clusters outside, strolling the square as they window-shopped the various stores.

Jamie had come from a bigger town in Texas nearly thirty years ago, and yet he never got over the uniqueness of living in small-town Tennessee.

It felt like home, even to those who had not been born here.

As much as he enjoyed the occasional foray to Nashville or even New York, he didn’t think he’d ever want to leave this area permanently.

The crowd inside the Drunken Otter created a dull roar of sound that met Jamie at the door.

Glancing around, he noticed several people he recognized, either from the restaurant or from other businesses, including Dr. Everest, who was sipping a beer at the bar with a gentleman he didn’t recognize.

At least he would know where to find her if Michael notified him that Baby had gone into labor.

He smirked at the knowledge and continued to peruse the room until his gaze landed on the group he knew would contain the woman he was searching for.

Iris.

She stood amid several women, a cocktail in her hand and a gorgeous smile on her face.

He couldn’t get over the new cut of her hair.

He’d loved it before, but this new style gave her an edge that he definitely thought suited her.

Plus it made him want to run his fingers through it, fist the short strands at the back of her head, and hold her still for his kiss—and more.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.

He shook the thought of Iris in his bed off before it had unintended consequences that would be visible to anyone who looked his way, and headed for the bar to grab a drink, hoping Iris would see him before he approached her. No need to feed into the stalker vibe, right?

“Jamie!” Clay swung a white towel over his shoulder before extending a hand across the bar. “How’s the business treatin’ ya?”

Since they were in the same business, Clayton and Jamie often had plenty to talk about despite the difference in their ages. If Jamie had to guess, he’d say Clay was a good fifteen years younger than his fifty-eight. He shook the man’s hand. “Grateful for a night off.”

“You haven’t been in here on a weeknight in a few years.” Clay gave him a sly grin as he pushed a glass below one of the beer taps. “Must be a reason for that.”

Jamie held back a groan, not that his friend was likely to hear it over the noise.

Small towns and their nosy ways. In Black Wolf’s Bluff, everyone knew everyone else’s business.

He’d rather avoid that—more for Iris’s sake than his own—so he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.

“Needed a change of pace—and some wings.”

Clay grinned. “Uh-huh.” He slid the pint glass he’d filled across the bar to Jamie. “Right.”

Jamie refrained from rolling his eyes. “Just get me some of that special sauce and keep your mouth shut.”

The grin got wider. “Sure thing, boss.” Calling his order out to a passing waitress took no more than a second. “Where ya sittin’?”

Jamie hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Erin and Lily had caught sight of him and gestured him toward their table when he caught their eyes.

“Never mind,” Clay said before Jamie could respond. “I gotcha.” He nodded toward the group. “Have fun with whoever you’re here to see.”

He’d have to ask Clay to keep his observations to himself, but not right now.

That would simply draw more attention from anyone who overheard their exchange.

With a warning look at his friend that he hoped would suffice for the moment, he turned his back on the bar and braced himself for whatever greeting Iris decided to give him.

As he started across the room, Iris’s gaze swept the space, landed on him.

Those gray beauties lit up at the sight of him before quickly dropping to the floor.

That was all he needed to know. Iris might be fighting the attraction they so obviously shared, but like he’d told her, he was a patient man. For now he would allow proximity to work its magic.

“Don’t normally see you here on a weeknight,” Erin called as he neared their table. Because of course she did. His friends needed to stop commenting on his habits.

Jamie took a moment to shake Gavin Blackwood’s hand before responding. The Scotsman had obviously finished whatever business he’d had in New York and quickly hurried back to be at Scarlett’s side. Falling back on the excuse he’d used with Clay, he said, “I was in the mood for some wings.”

Erin’s wrinkled brow said she was skeptical. Gavin chuckled. “Don’t think the lass’ll swallow that one, Jamie.”

“I’m obviously spending far too much time with the lot of you—you’re getting a bit too familiar.”

Gavin’s eyes fairly twinkled. “A bit, yeah.” He raised his beer. “But I commend ya for tryin’.”

Jamie laughed. Bending down to brush a kiss along Erin’s flushed cheek, he whispered, “I don’t give up easily.”

Erin met his gaze as he rose back up, her own amused. “Good.”

Jamie extended the same greeting to Scarlett, then Lily. He nodded at Lily’s assistant, Evan, and his—girlfriend? Fiancée?—Alana before turning eagerly toward Iris. Gray eyes reluctantly met his green.

Iris cleared her throat. “Jamie.”

“Iris.” Her name on his lips held a wealth of meaning he couldn’t hold back, though he tried for her sake. “You look amazing.”

She was wearing a silky navy-blue top, his favorite color, especially now that he saw the way it complemented her fair complexion.

White slacks hugged her gorgeous legs. She was average height for a woman, but the slight heels she wore made him think she would fit perfectly against him despite the extra inches he held on her.

Bring her lips closer to his when she was in his arms. And he definitely wanted her in his arms.

Faint pink color flushed Iris’s cheeks, but maybe that was the influence of the drink in her hand. He didn’t think so with the way the words, “T-thank you,” stuttered off her lips.

It would take a few minutes for the food to arrive, and wouldn’t you know it, a slow song was just starting on the jukebox. He extended his hand to her. “May I have this dance?”