Page 4

4

SILVER

S teaks served and eaten. Coffee poured and drank. Good music on the radio and a handsome man, acting dark, broody, and mysterious.

Getting snowed in has never been this good.

“Sure you ate enough? Minute steaks and a few potatoes on the side don’t strike me like enough for a man of your size,” I say while clearing the plates out of our way. If I weren’t entertaining, I’d wash them off immediately, but something about Salvatore keeps me glued in place.

Like a strong magnetic pull that, no matter how I try and break, will not release me.

“Happy as a clam.” He downs the last of his coffee, reaching for the pot I know is empty. “Dang, looks like I’ve gotta get another on the brew.”

“About that.” I drop to my haunches and rummage inside the counter’s cupboard. It hasn’t seen much love or attention since Dad worked the register, so it takes me a while to find what I’m after, but when I do, I return by slamming the glass bottle of Old Buck whiskey on the counter. “I thought we could move onto something a little more thirst-quenching.”

“Thirst quenching and lip loosening.” Salvatore reaches for the bottle and wipes away a thin layer of dust coating the label. He nods, satisfied, and pours two fingers into each of our mugs.

“My thoughts exactly. Might as well make the best of a bad situation, right?” I raise my mug, and he brings his to clink glasses before sipping.

Good Lord, age has not been kind to the Old Buck. It’s bitter and burns as it travels down my throat. I can’t imagine the funny faces I’m pulling, but they’re leaving a smile on Salvatore’s face, so it’s not all bad.

“Why don’t we play a game? Kickstart this party the old-fashioned way.” Salvatore rolls up his sleeves and goes for another sip of the whiskey as if immune to its poisonous bite.

“What did you have in mind?” I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge under the counter and pour it into the mug. Only way I’m getting through another sip of it is by cutting it down to something less disgusting.

“We go question for question. Failure to answer results in a shot.” He swirls his glass around to show it’s going to be a shot of the nasty stuff.

“And if we do answer?” I raise a brow, intrigued and excited by the possibility of breaking down his stoic walls.

“That’s the prize. Getting to know one another. We’re in for a long night ahead, so we might as well make the best of it.”

“I must say, I’m surprised. You didn’t strike me as the type who’d want to engage in a game of getting to know me.” I find myself leaning forward. A subconscious reaction of intrigue, my body’s instant desire for the man sitting opposite me, and the mind-melting effects of the aged liquor.

It isn’t much, but it gives Salvatore’s wandering golden eyes a better view of my chest. Not that he’s had any problem staring at my tits so far, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying his attention.

“I’ve been full of surprises lately. Being here is probably the biggest.” His eyes travel away from me and settle on his cell phone, which has vibrated every ten minutes since we sat together.

Inquiring about it will have to be one of my questions at some point tonight, but I’ve got a much better starting point.

“Fine, I’ll play your game,” I say. By the way Salvatore’s face hardens while he stares at the phone, he needs a distraction from whatever landed him in Crawford. “I’ll start. You’re not married, are you?”

“Married?” His head snaps back to me, and the sternness in his eyes vanishes with a chuckle. “No, I’m not. Why is that your jumping-off point?”

“Oh, y’know, the way you’re looking at me. The thousand-yard stare at whoever is calling. I can go on and on with a list of reasons, but mostly, it’s because of how you’re looking at me. I’m not the home-wrecking sort and wanted to be sure I wasn’t crossing a line.” Purely for my own sake.

I don’t expect anything but a few sheepish glances from both of us to happen tonight. But even those would leave me feeling a lot more dirty if he had a wife waiting at home.

“Are you?” Salvatore looks at my hands wrapped around the glass of whiskey and water. Probably trying to see if there’s a ring or ring lines. His tone, however, expresses his profound distaste for the possibility of a yes leaving my lips.

Heartbroken before an answer even comes.

“No. Never had time to marry, and don’t suppose I will anytime soon. Between the shop, hunting with my dad, and helping cook up the meat with my mom on weekends, I’ve got my hands full.”

“Ah, so you know how to handle big things that shoot in spurts? Good to know.” He chuckles at his own joke and immediately looks at me, flabbergasted. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Neither do I, but I like it more than I’m willing to admit. A silly joke with filthy connotations that doesn’t even make sense in the context of what we’re talking about? Somehow, Salvatore’s checking every box to make our shut-in way more fun.

“No need for apologies. I’m probably at fault, giving those burning eyes an easy line on these.” I shake my chest a little to push my message across before erupting into a loud laugh to hide my reddening cheeks.

Salvatore grin widens at my gesture, and he eases back in his chair. “I could think of a few things to improve the view. But this is a diner, not a sleazy sports bar.”

A wink follows, and for a brief second, I consider giving in to those desires. It would be so easy to toss my shirt to the side and change the drinking portion of this game to stripping instead. I wouldn’t mind seeing what he’s packing beneath that expensive suit.

“Anyway, back to the game.” Salvatore snaps me back to reality. “You said you go hunting every weekend. Isn’t that a hell of a lot of meat for a family of three?”

“It is, but we sell the rest off to the butcher. It’s a good way to make extra cash, and it helps our community. A win-win, if I’ve ever seen one.” I watch Salvatore take another swallow of whiskey. He doesn’t even grimace at its foul taste.

Now I can’t stop wondering if he really doesn’t mind it or if he’s putting on a show to impress me. That he’s so hard and calloused, nothing can penetrate his iron facade.

Whatever the case, I find myself more and more into it.

“Your turn,” he says as he adjusts in his chair and closes the gap between us by propping himself up on his elbows over the counter.

Before I have a chance to think of my next question, though they aren’t too hard to come by with a complete stranger, his phone starts to vibrate on the counter again.

His head begrudgingly turns to it, and mine does too. The ID reads, Dante .

“Why aren’t you answering it?” No time like the present. Or maybe, deep down, I know he doesn’t want to answer this question, and it’ll force him to drink. Our night might take a far more interesting turn if I plaster him with liquor.

“It’s a work call.” He sounds grim.

“Isn’t that more reason to answer, then?” Without thinking, I extend my hand and press it against his arm reassuringly. Mostly for him, but a little bit for me to feel the rock-solid mass of muscle he calls a bicep.

“When you do what I do, it’s good to know your limits. I reached that point earlier tonight, and well, let’s just say no good can come from answering it right now.” His focus moves away from the phone to my hand brushing against him.

Salvatore’s own hand raises from beneath the desk, and he presses his rough fingers against my forearm gently. An audible gulp follows as it turns into a squeeze.

“And what do you do that’s so bad you have to cut yourself out of reality for a while?” I try to match his seriousness with my tone. Even though I haven’t sensed any danger since he came into my bar, I can tell he’s a dangerous man just by looking at him.

No one wearing a suit this fancy, driving a car that has so many illegal modifications, and exuding this level of intensity can be on the straight and narrow.

“Full disclosure?” He shuts his eyes and releases his grip on my arm, almost expecting me to pull away when he answers. “I stand as head to a powerful family in Colorado. I’ll spare you the details for your sanity and mine, but let’s just say we’re not blood-related.”

I. Fucking. Knew. It.

Well, I didn’t, but I could’ve guessed it.

“I should’ve seen it coming with a name like Salvatore in our neck of the woods.” I chuckle to his surprise, and he meets my eyes with a furrowed brow and pursed lips of confusion. “Salvatore Lione, right?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Everyone’s heard of you.”

His attention travels back to my hand, which hasn’t budged. “And you’re not afraid?”

“Why would I be?” I squeeze his bicep. Goodness, it feels amazing. “You haven’t done anything to show me you’re a bad guy. Where I’m concerned, you’re just another wayward soul trying to brave a stormy night.”

The corner of his lip curls upward, and warmth burns in his hazel eyes.

I know I shouldn’t continue playing this game now that I know who he is. But what good is chasing him away going to do? We’re both trapped here, for better or worse.

More than any moral objections, carrying on as if our conversation didn’t go the way it did is incredibly thrilling.

It’s not every day you happen upon a criminal king and live to tell the tale. And with the way Salvatore can’t take his eyes off me, I’m sure it’s going to be a great story to tell.