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Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he growled again in warning.

Bruce raised both paws. “Whoa, whoa. Okay. Message received.”

The low growl subsided slightly as Rafe exhaled, shoulders still tense, but his animal retreating enough for his brain to re-engage.

“Not to self: Don’t fuck with the Jag before noon,” Bruce said then gave Rafe a nod. “Check.”

CHAPTER 8

After clearing away the breakfast mess, Billie Ann rolled her shoulders and made her way to the back, clipboard in hand. She figured the inventory would be a disaster with half-empty shelves, missing supplies, and forgotten orders, but to her surprise, everything was stocked. Fully and meticulously stocked. She let out a quiet breath, the corners of her mouth twitching with something between a smile and a sigh. Of course it was.

This bar had been Davey’s whole life. Every inch of it held his energy, his care. He’d kept it running like a tight ship, even when his body had started giving out. That was Davey through and through, loyal to the last breath, and too proud to let things fall apart, even for a second.

Some of the food had expired, like the typical perishables shoved to the back of the fridge, but she tossed those without hesitation. It wasn’t a big deal. The regulars didn’t come for the food, anyway. They came for stiff drinks, stronger stories, and the comfort of being surrounded by others who didn’t quite fit in anywhere else.

Truth be told, she could open tonight if she wanted to. The thought made her pause. Excitement fluttered low in her stomach, tangled with a thread of fear. Was she ready for that?

Her gaze drifted to the front of the bar, where Rafe sat alone in one of the booths, talking on the phone. He hadn’t noticed her watching him, and she took the opportunity to really look at him. His dark hair fell in loose waves around his face, his voice low and steady, even when she couldn’t hear the words. There was something about him that unsettled her in the most unexpected way, as if he could see through all her walls without ever asking a single question.

Bruce had taken off not long ago after licking his plate clean of scrambled eggs. He’d muttered something about needing to get back tohis Witch, then leapt gracefully from the booth and disappeared.

Billie Ann stood and looked around the bar again. There wasn’t much left to do. Everything was in place, waiting. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent off two texts, one to Macy and the other to Frank, who had bartended here for as long as she could remember. He hadn’t made it to Davey’s funeral, citing a family emergency, but he’d called her the same day. His voice had cracked when he told her how sorry he was.

When she told him she now owned the bar and asked if he still wanted to work, his answer had been immediate and certain:Yes.

She hoped he meant it. She needed someone who knew the rhythm of this place—someone who felt like part of its bones.

Then, with a sigh, she stared down at her phone again, thumb hovering over a number she didn’t want to call. Brian Norris.Her boss back in Lexington. She was due back at the office tomorrow, but there was no chance in hell she’d be making that drive. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Brian was handsome. There was no denying that. Sharp jaw, expensive suits, and a polished, confident charm that worked on just about everyone. But not her. He wasn't her type, not even close. Where others saw charisma, she saw control. He owned a chain of real estate offices, including the one where she’d been working, trying to get her footing in a career she never expected to fall in love with.

Thorne had changed that.

He’d been the one who first got her interested in real estate, years ago, back when she’d still been figuring herself out. He’d taken her to open houses, let her shadow him on small flips, and taught her the thrill of finding possibility in forgotten places. She’d loved it. But not just the homes, it was the people, the stories, and the second chances built into every closing deal that she enjoyed the most. It was something she could build a life on.

But Brian had ruined that, piece by piece. Ever since she’d turned him down, because no, she wasn’t interested in dating her boss, no matter how many times he asked, he’d made her life at the office unbearable. Petty power plays, late assignments, and withholding opportunities she’d earned. All of it with that smug, fake-friendly smile. Just enough to make her miserable without giving her grounds to quit and collect unemployment.

Now, standing in Davey’s bar.Herbar. The thought of going back to that job felt like trying to force herself into a life that no longer fit. Here, surrounded by wood and whiskey and the echoes of someone she loved, she felt closer to herself than she had in a long time.

Maybe real estate wasn’t out of the picture. Maybe it just looked different now. And maybe, just maybe, this old bar was more than a place to pour drinks. It could be the foundation of something new.

Something uniquely hers.

Billie Ann stepped out the back door of the bar like she was stepping into a storm. The heat pressed against her skin, but it did nothing to calm the cold knot twisting in her chest. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled to his name.

Brian Norris.

Her soon-to-be former boss. The man who’d made every day at work feel like a chess match she was destined to lose unless she played by his rules. She hadn’t played. And now, it was time to make that official.

She hitcall,clicking her speaker.

One ring.

Two.

“Annie,” he answered smoothly, her name dragging out like silk over sandpaper. He refused to call her Billie Ann or Billie. Said her name was unprofessional. “I hope you’re not calling asking for more days. I have appointments set up for you starting tomorrow.”

“It’s Billie Ann.” Her jaw clenched, hating being called anything other than her true name.