Page 1 of Over and Above (Mount Hope #4)

Chapter One

Three Months Ago

Eric

“You’re alone.”

“Excuse me?” Coming to The Heist had been a mistake. I had no idea what had possessed?—

Okay, yes, I did. And perhaps I’d even subconsciously counted on Magnus, the owner of the bar and grill that occupied the old bank building, being on duty. But certainly not consciously, and Magnus’s pointed comment as I walked toward the massive polished bar made me want to turn right around.

“I meant you always come in with a crowd like your roommates or your after-work crew.” Magnus’s tone was as unflappable as ever, that charming, slightly flirty lilt that drove me up the exposed brick walls. He was perhaps a little younger than me, yet definitely over forty. His closely cropped, almost bald head made it hard to judge his age. And clearly, he spent far more time in the gym, what with the bulging, tatted-up muscular arms peeking out from his black T-shirt. “Nice to see you. Grab a seat.” Magnus gestured at the row of empty barstools. It was late, past the dinner rush on a weeknight, with only a smattering of patrons lingering at tables. “Your usual beer? And what can I get started for you food-wise?”

“Not beer. I want something stronger.” Magnus knowing my usual brand of pale ale irritated me to no end, which was exposed by my clipped tone. But I’d come for a drink, something with a kick and a burn that would make me forget—at least temporarily—this week from hell. “Scot— No, not that.”

I’d started to order a scotch on the rocks, but that had been Montgomery’s thing. He’d had a sophisticated taste with a collection of top-shelf whiskeys to match. I pursed my lips as I considered what I did want. Rum and Coke? Lord. Remove Montgomery’s influence, and my drinking tastes went right back to my teens.

“I’ve got a new dessert tequila in that’s amazing.” Magnus fetched an opaque blue bottle that looked more suitable for housing a genie than liquor. “Silky finish, notes of caramel and citrus.”

“Tequila makes me think of college.” It would have the burn I was after, but I could almost see Montgomery’s quiet look of distaste for the whole salt-and-lime ritual.

“This one won’t. It’s designed to be sipped slowly.” Magnus’s ever-present grin was even more seductive than said genie, not that I’d have the first clue what to wish for. Or rather, what to wish for that was remotely feasible. Apparently sensing he had me, Magnus fetched a tall, narrow flute with a long stem, a vessel befitting such a fancy liquor. “And first pour is on the house.”

“Why are you always so nice to me?” I asked as he slid the glass of clear liquid my way. It sparkled under the bar’s warm lighting, as captivating as the many shades of Magnus’s hazel eyes. And that right there was why Magnus irritated me. I noticed him in a way I hadn’t noticed anyone in years, certainly not since before Montgomery got sick. Which brought us back to my reason for drinking in the first place. The one-year anniversary of my husband’s passing had come and gone, and the whole week had been full of friends checking to see how I was coping. Badly. But of course I couldn’t say that.

“Besides a nice attitude being good for business?” Magnus gave a warm, rich chuckle. “Our kids are friends. I figure we should be too.”

“Our kids…” I had to think for a second as to which of my four the statement might apply to. “Oh right, you’re Diesel’s dad.”

Diesel was a nineteen- or twenty-year-old blue-haired punk type with almost as many tattoos as his father, and he had an on-again, off-again frenemy thing going with my oldest kid Maren, who was in college. Over the last year, they seemed to have evolved into more of an actual friendship, or at least, Maren tolerating Diesel’s antics more.

“I claim him.” Magnus’s smile took on a proud edge. “And it wasn’t your ambulance crew, but your firefighter friends and the helicopter folks did save him last year. I’m grateful to first responders of all stripes.”

“I’m glad he’s doing better.” Last summer, Diesel had suffered a nasty fall while hiking, ending up with an impalement injury, but thanks to quick intervention, he’d lived, and from what little I could glean from Maren, he’d made a full recovery.

“He is.” Magnus sounded relieved in a way my dad heart could relate to, along with more of that pride. “He’s gainfully employed now with his first promotion. He’s out at the big shipping warehouse. Maren keeps harping on him about taking classes, but school was never much his thing.”

“Guess it’s not for everyone.” I took a sip of my tequila at last, and my tongue tingled from the myriad of flavors—smoke, caramel, lime, sugar cookies—all wrapped in a bright ribbon of liquor. “Wow, this is amazing.”

“Told you.” Magnus smirked.

“It’s funny how different kids are,” I mused as I took another slow drink. “One of my other kids, Rowan, landed a TV show part that starts filming in the summer. I wish he’d think about college, but acting is his dream job.”

“He’s made it to a few karaoke nights here.” Magnus nodded with easy approval. I was still working on that emotion where Rowan’s future was concerned. “Amazing set of pipes. He’ll do fine in Hollywood, I bet.”

“I hope you’re right.” I exhaled hard, spinning my glass on the polished bar top. “As a dad, I still worry.”

“It’s your job.” Magnus sounded like he’d delivered the “it’s my job to worry” lecture a time or ten himself. “Now, what’ll it be for food? You don’t want too much alcohol on an empty stomach.”

“Believe me, I learned that lesson in college. What goes with dessert tequila?” I asked as he handed me a menu. Lord, I was tired of making decisions. My job as lead paramedic. The house. The kids. Even with my friends, I was the decisive one. The person who set the schedule and followed up.

“You asking me to choose?” Magnus’s smile widened to a mischievous grin.

“I guess I am.” I glanced away lest the wattage of that grin or its wicked promise make me combust on the spot.

“Any allergies?” He scooped up my menu, moving to type on one of the tablet screens they used for taking orders.

“No, and I’m not picky.”

“Good.” Magnus winked at me, and I needed another gulp of tequila. Yep, this had been a bad, bad decision, yet it would be rude to leave before the food arrived. Luckily, Magnus was busy for a bit with a patron at the far end of the bar and then speaking with one of his servers, leaving me to my tequila and brooding. Though my thoughts were dark and cloudy enough that I was almost grateful when Magnus returned to place three little plates in front of me.

“Congrats, you get to try three of our new small plates.” Magnus gestured with a flourish as he also set down another flute of tequila. “You’re looking at smashed potatoes with local cheese and chives, stuffed artichoke with house-made lemon-garlic aioli, and steak bites with a burgundy reduction. I’ve paired them with a reposado tequila to complement. Enjoy.”

“I will say your food here is always top-notch.” I went right for the potatoes with their crisp edges and fluffy centers to soak up some of the first shot before I even thought about sipping the new drink. “Do you come up with the menu yourself?”

“Some.” Magnus’s tone was humble, but The Heist had a growing following among locals and tourist foodies. Since opening, the place had gained a reputation as a welcoming, inclusive space, but recently, its additions to the thriving Mount Hope food scene kept diners returning. “I’ve got a pretty good kitchen crew, finally, and I like letting them experiment, bring me fresh ideas. Other dishes, like the steak tips, are inspired by past travels. I drew flavors from a dish I had in Dijon, France.”

“It’s amazing.” The meat was meltingly tender with a dark sauce rich with wine and onions with a hint of brightness. I took a small sip of the new tequila, letting it warm the back of my throat. Magnus undoubtedly had more important things to do than chat with me, and letting him drift away again would be the smarter move. But my mouth opened anyway. “Maren said Diesel spent part of the year after graduation backpacking through Europe?”

“Yep. He’s got the travel bug like me.” There was that fatherly pride again, an emotion I recognized well, even if I would have been a nervous wreck sending an eighteen-year-old off to find his way through another continent.

“I’ve never been outside of the West Coast.” Why that admission sprang from my throat, I had no clue. It wasn’t something I ever dwelled on. I’d been as far south as Arizona and as north as Seattle, all for practical travel reasons, but Magnus’s obvious gusto for travel gave me pause.

“Well, I’m glad I can bring you a taste of France then.” Magnus offered another of those impish smiles. “And you’re about to have an empty nest. Maybe you can travel more then?”

“Maybe.” I frowned, taking a minute to sample the artichoke, which was spicy enough to be something I couldn’t get away with serving the kids or Montgomery, but addictive, like my favorite guilty-pleasure sweet-chili chips. “John still has another year of high school. He’s hoping for a football scholarship. Wren will be a freshman, but they’re looking at some early-college STEM programs that would replace the last part of high school.”

“Smart kids. And see, you’ll have the house to yourself in no time?—”

I gestured with my fork to cut off that happy thought. “Don’t remind me.”

“And you’ll have your roommates.” Magnus switched to a soothing tone. Likely, the gossip about how my roommates kept pairing up and moving on hadn’t reached him yet, and it wasn’t a topic I wanted to bring up. Tonight was for escape, not deep thoughts. Magnus leaned forward against the bar. “But you could get out. Travel. Come on, what’s one place on your bucket list?”

I took another slow sip of tequila. If I wanted an escape, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge the question, let myself remember for a second who I’d been before Montgomery and the adoptions of the kids. “It’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to visit an island. Like Hawaii or maybe Tahiti if I get crazy.”

“Get crazy,” Magnus urged. His deep, husky voice could tempt even the straightest of dudes, which I most definitely was not. “Dream big.”

“Okay.” For the first time, I grinned back. I liked this game. Not that I was ever traveling to any of these places, but it was fun to dream for a second about leaving Oregon with only a passport and a carry-on. “Thailand might be cool. I love Thai food, and I hear the street-food culture there is amazing.”

“It is.” Magnus gave an erotic moan. “If you like fried chicken, you’d die for the Hat Yai . And I found the most amazing teeny coconut pancakes I’m still trying to duplicate twenty years later.”

“Wow.” I smiled at his obvious joy, then shook my head. “But I shouldn’t even think like that. I’ll likely be paying college bills forever.”

“Nah. Pinch some pennies.” Magnus shrugged like world travel was simply that easy. “Make room for you.”

He met my gaze, hazel eyes more intense than ever. And for the first time, I looked back. Like really looked. The air in the bar shifted, a crisp, cool wind whipping through, or maybe that was simply the sizzle racing up my spine. I glanced away, searching the nearly empty dining room for any convenient distraction as Magnus cleared the small plates.

“The food was really good.” I reached for my wallet. Leaving would be the best idea. “Thank you.”

“You’ll stay for dessert.” His stern tone didn’t leave much room for argument, especially when the server arrived with a small, round flan drizzled with an amber sauce and centered on a square plate. And naturally, Magnus had a third flute of tequila ready to go as well.

“Another tequila?” I decided not to argue with the dessert because I wasn’t used to taking orders and because it looked divine.

“The extra anejo goes with the salted caramel flan. That’s a new menu item, so you’re doing me a solid by testing it out.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t buy that reasoning for a minute, but I couldn’t resist taking a taste. “Wow. Yes. That’s good.”

“Any feedback for the chef?” Magnus bent closer to the bar top like my answer actually mattered.

“More of that flaky salt,” I said slowly. Honestly, I was hard-pressed to find constructive criticism on the wonderfully creamy, rich dessert. “The salt tastes expensive, but it’s the perfect complement to the dark caramel.”

“You’ve got a good palate.”

“Nah.” I shrugged off the praise. “I’m small-town Oregon through and through.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an adventurous…appetite.” Magnus made the word appetite sound downright filthy. My skin heated, and I occupied myself with my dessert and tequila while Magnus drifted away to speak with a server wiping down tables. Another was stacking chairs. How was it closing time already?

My chest was pleasantly warm and my head was heavy. I had a definite buzz, but I wasn’t drunk. I fished out my wallet again, summoning one of the servers since Magnus didn’t seem inclined to take my money.

However, it was Magnus rather than the young black-haired woman who returned with my receipt. “How are you getting home?”

“I’ll walk. It’s not far.” I gestured vaguely toward my neighborhood of historic homes. “The tequila hit hard, but I’ll be fine.”

“If you wait, I’ll give you a ride.” Magnus made the offer slowly, like it wasn’t one he made regularly. And he’d coupled it with a decided emphasis on ride and a meaningful stare.

Oh. I was long out of the game, but I knew enough to realize when someone was trying to pick me up. And for the first time in over fifteen years, the words “No, thanks” were nowhere to be found. Instead, I met his gaze. He’d flirted with me every time I’d come in over the past few months, but he was charming with everyone. Like he said, it was good for business. But this felt different. Personal.

And in the shocker of the century, I actually considered it. My attraction to Magnus was an unfortunate reality, and my friends kept gently insisting I couldn’t remain a celibate widower forever. Maybe…

I looked deep into Magnus’s eyes and let myself imagine kissing him, allowed myself to picture kissing someone who wasn’t Montgomery. My chest went cold and tight, the tequila buzz fleeing.

“I’m good,” I said, even though we both knew I wasn’t. I dropped my gaze as I stood, not wanting to see the moment Magnus’s interest turned to pity. My hamstrings were sore after sitting on the barstool. Another reminder I was getting old.

Too old for this nonsense, yet I walked away knowing regret would chase me the next few days. Whether I’d regret coming in or abruptly leaving was the real question.