Page 111 of Jensen

“You ready, baby?” He appears behind me, locking up.

He gives me an up-down glance that makes my stomach flutter as he follows me down the steps. His arm snakes around my waist, holding me back for a second.

“You behave yourself tonight,” he says. “I mean that.”

I nod reluctantly. “I know we’re here to do business, and I trust you to do it.”

He pulls back, spanking my ass, and opens the truck. “Good girl. Get in.”

I’m so flustered, it doesn’t occur to me until we’re on the road that maybe Kayleigh will be there tonight. That thought keeps me going through the winding roads out to the horse farms on the north side. When we park on the street, a valet appears out of nowhere and takes the keys. He seems to know exactly who Jensen is. We’re expected.

The tavern is a two story white building with green shutters. The front porch wraps around three sides, and the front door is open, light spilling out into the night. Music sounds faintly from inside. Through the wavy, mini pane windows, I can see there’s already a crowd inside.

“You stay with me,” Jensen says.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“Save the sass for when I can work it out of you.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, guiding me up the steps and inside.

A wall of sound hits me, making me wince. A bluegrass band plays fiddle in the corner, a woman with a guitar singing into the microphone. Against the rich, red wooden walls are rows of bourbon, bottles glittering under the chandelier.

To the left are the betting stations, open for business. On the opposite wall, over the entrance to the upstairs hotel area, is an enormous TV showing the pre-race. And standing behind the counter, bartending, is Brothers Boyd. It’s a stab of disappointment that Kayleigh isn’t with him. I blink quickly, sniffing. It was a longshot, now that I think about it. I doubt she goes out in public with him at all.

He sees us and stops, lifting his hands.

“Hey, hey,” he drawls. “Come here, Della. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

I let him take my hands over the counter and kiss the back of my knuckles. Jensen leans on the bar, giving him a warning look.

“Flirt with her, and I’ll shoot you in the dick,” he says.

Brothers winks at me, turning to get down two glasses. “Nobody’s trying to take your girl. Have a bourbon, Jen. It’ll help your panties work that knot out.”

“Christ,” Jensen murmurs, but he takes the glass.

I sip mine to taste then shoot the rest. “It’s good.”

“Only the best,” says Brothers. “Go on, put some bets down. It’s on me if you lose.”

Something I learned about Brothers is that he works hard, but Lord, does he play harder. Tonight, he’s clearly in a great mood. His bar is crowded, I know he’s put thousands down on a fast horse, and he’s got Jensen right where he wants him.

I lean across the counter, bourbon already hitting my brain—I’m starting to feel pretty damn good.

“Can I bartend?” I beg.

He laughs. “God, I love you, Della. Come on, jump over the bar.”

Jensen reaches for me, but I sidestep. “Let me back there. I’ll be out of the way, and I can keep the drinks going so you all can talk.”

He glances over the room then jerks his head. I might not be as deadly as Jensen, but I am the woman who convinced Brothers to help me in the first place. This isn’t my first rodeo in getting what I want.

Brothers holds out his hands. I pull myself up, letting him lift me by the waist over the counter and set me down.

“You know how to do this?” he asks.

“You know I do,” I say.

Truthfully, I’ve never done it to this level, but I served drinks by night when the diner became a bar for local events. Before Leland ruined everything. I think I can figure it out, at least for tonight.