Page 31 of Hotshot
But there was a lot of info about Bruce, the lumber pioneer who’d originally hailed from a tiny town near Lubbock, moved to Denver in the seventies and opened a successful lumber enterprise. Another article touched on Bruce’s recent health battles, but I didn’t delve any further. I wasn’t interested in his dad or the mill. I was here because…well, for blackmail reasons.
And to warn Hank to stay away from my grandmother. I’d tried to tell Grams to leave Hank alone too, but she kind of did whatever the hell she wanted, so it was up to me to nip any weird feud or alliance that might pop up between them in the bud.
The Condors were playoff bound, and depending on how far we got, I wouldn’t be home for summer for another six weeks or more. I couldn’t worry about Grams and Hank.
I did my usual breathing exercises outside the bar and wiped my clammy palms on my jeans before catching the corner of the door just as someone was exiting.
The interior was almost as dark as the Black Horse but much newer. The professionally antiqued mirrors reflecting the bottles on the shelves behind the bar and wagon wheel chandeliers were a little hokey, though probably perfect for an establishment that catered to pool and pinball enthusiasts. Two pool tables ate up the bulk of real estate around the bar, and a row of pinball machines and classic video games lined the walls near the front.
I adjusted my ball cap and lowered my head as I made my way toward the rear, pausing for a beat when I spotted the cowboy straddling a barstool at a high table in the farthest corner of the bar. The fluttery sensation in my chest took me by surprise. Okay, I’d known I was attracted to him, but I’d kind of hoped the feeling had dimmed in light of last weekend’s unfortunate episode.
Hank glanced up as I approached, and fuck me, my pulse raced faster than it had on the ice earlier tonight.
Goddamn that hat and that snug-fitted blue flannel shirt. Or was it his crooked smile and that sparkly look in his eyes that hinted at a secret he couldn’t wait to share? Or was I the secret?
“Good game, man. I bought you a beer.”
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “I’m not drinking.”
“You look better than the last time I saw you. Not quite so green around the gills.” He fixed me with a teasing once-over as he slid a glass toward me. “You can have my water.”
“Did you poison it?”
Hank snickered. “No, I need you alive and kicking.”
“Right.” I circled my wrist meaningfully. “Let’s get this over with. What did you want?”
“Ouch. I can’t remember the last time anyone was happy to see me,” he groused without heat. “Except Steve the contractor.He likes me okay, but he’s being paid well. Our employees do well too, but sadly, they don’t like me at all.”
“I can’t help you with that. Sorry.”
Hank sipped his beer and shrugged. “Yes, you can. I’m extorting you, remember?”
“Oh…yeah.” I chuckled.
And fuck, I didn’t want to be amused. I didn’t want to like Hank at all, but it was hard not to appreciate his self-deprecating honesty. He emanated “nice guy” vibes with the right amount of edge. No wonder drunk me had gotten flirty with him. Fortunately, sober me knew he was more than I could handle.
Which was fine since Hank wasn’t interested anyway. He wanted my alleged star power, not me.
So why was I grinning like an idiot?
Fuck, I had a bad feeling my eyes were twinkling too. I had to rein that shit in, stat.
“So…let’s make a deal,” he said, thankfully unaware of my inner detour. “I need an Elmwood buddy. My dad gave me the all-clear to make my offer sexy, so…what’ll it be?”
I bugged my eyes out. “Sexy?”
“Yeah, something interesting. If it’s money, name your price. Tell me what you want in exchange for your time.”
You.
The word tripped to the tip of my tongue. I bit it back and swallowed it, clearing my throat to be sure it was gone.
“I just…want to make sure that whatever I blabbed while I was wasted off my ass stays between us.”
“Yeah, but I’ll do that for free. You can trust me.”
“I don’t know you,” I retorted.