Page 9 of Twister's Salvation

His gaze dipped for a second.I saw it, how he clocked my jeans, my not-so-tiny waist, and the way my tank top clung like second skin.But his eyes came right back to mine like he hadn’t done it.

He had.

“Is that so?”he drawled.

I pushed off the back bar and stepped closer, but not too close.“My dad bought this place the month before I was born.I’ve spent pretty much every day of my life here.Hell, I even went to UW for college.I’ve never been more than a few miles from this place at all times.”I let that settle.“I was raised within these walls,” I added.“Downtown’s been my playground for years.”

He studied me for a long second.No sarcasm this time.No smirk.Just something close to respect.“Maybe I want that same thing,” he said quietly.

I felt my breath catch a little.

The thing about men like him?You expect the cocky, the smart-ass, the push.But that?

That was honesty.

That was dangerous.

“Well,” I said and tried to keep my voice even, “it’s not always as fun as it looks.”

“I’m not here for fun,” he replied.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t.

Behind him, one of his guys knocked over a stool and yelled something about spilling whiskey being a party foul.Laughter erupted, loud and easy.

Twister glanced back, then turned to me again.

“You own this place yourself?”he asked.

I nodded.“Yup, that’s what the paperwork says.Britta is my right-hand gal, though.My dad passed a few years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised by how much I meant it.

He didn’t ask more.Didn’t press.Just let it be.

Which, somehow, made it easier to say, “You guys planning to hang around Madison?”

His mouth twitched.“We’re not going anywhere.”

I raised an eyebrow.“That a promise or a threat?”

“Maybe both.”

I laughed, and he smiled, not the smirky one.A real one.Brief, but there.

It looked good on him.

Too good.

The jukebox kicked on again, this time blasting old Skynyrd.The guys hooted.The pool game kicked up again.And Twister leaned back against the bar like he belonged there.

He said he was here to stay, but I had heard that before.

As long as he didn’t bring any trouble to my door, I was good if he stayed.

One thing was for sure—I wasn’t going anywhere, either.