3
The following weekend came and went without any kind of incident. I wasn’t sure if that was because Royal had taken my warning to heart and stayed home, or because Rome’s friend Dashel—Dash—Churchill was officially on the payroll. There was no way anyone would be stupid enough to tangle with the massive wall of muscle that hardly spoke but glowered like a pro. The guy’s scowl was enough to shut down even the slightest bit of misbehavior, and while the break in having to be the bad guy was nice, I was worried the guy’s dark and brooding demeanor could scare off potential customers.
Rome was fairly hulking, and on the quiet side as well, but there was something about this other ex-soldier that indicated, loud and clear, that at some point in time not too long ago, the man had been a stone-cold killer and was not to be messed with. Even Dixie, who could get along with anyone and everyone, was giving the new recruit a wide berth, even if she was also giving the brute an interested side eye when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. All the ladies in the bar seemed to think the caramel-skinned behemoth with his mixed ancestry and impenetrable dark gaze was easy on the eyes—not that he seemed to give a rat’s ass about the female attention.
It was slow for a Monday night, so I had sent both of them home early and let Avett close down the kitchen. There was no sense in paying them to hang around when there was only one person at the bar. I knew Zeb Fuller pretty well. He was friends with my brother-in-law and the rest of the crew I spent most of my time with, and he was a regular at the Bar. He was another beast of a man that emanated a whole lot of don’t-fuck-with-me. It must be something about the clean mountain air that allowed the men in the state to grow into giants. I wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, but more often than not, I found myself eye to eye or having to look up at most of the guys that made up my social circle. It was just one more incentive to keep my ass in line. There were way too many guys around that were very capable of kicking my ass six ways to Sunday if I screwed up again.
Zeb had a pensive look on his face and was absently stroking his beard. Since moving to Denver, I had learned quickly that the three B’s ruled all—beards, beer, and babes. The mile-high had a plethora of all those things, and when in doubt a conversation could always be started by picking one of the holy trinity. In a pinch, the Broncos always worked as a substitute B as well. Zeb had the beard, he didn’t drink beer, and I knew, since he was at the Bar spilling his guts all the time, that his current babe situation was stuck in neutral because the girl he was hung up on seemed clueless to how he felt about her. She was also the older sister of one of his best friends, Rowdy, who wasn’t exactly thrilled with Zeb’s interest in his sibling.
I was finishing wiping down the bar and restocking the cooler while Zeb sulked into his almost empty glass of Jack and Coke. I never thought I would be the guy that others went to with their problems. I wasn’t exactly sympathetic or patient with things that I thought were obvious, but ever since I stepped foot behind that bar, I felt more like a therapist than a drink slinger. What was even more shocking was that I liked it. I liked being able to see the situation from the outside and point out things from my own unique perspective. After all, I had screwed up enough for an entire army of people, so I figured I might as well put those hard lessons learned to good use.
“Why don’t you just ask her out on a date?” I tossed the bar towel onto the dirty-rag pile and picked up the remote to turn off the TVs. I was going to shut it all down at midnight since Zeb was the only customer and I knew enough to know he just wanted to talk, not to drink.
He looked up at me and frowned. “You’ve met Sayer. Does she strike you as the type to go on a date with a guy like me?”
Sayer Cole was a bit of a mystery. She was a lawyer, beautiful in a really elegant and refined way, and she had surprised our little group of misfits by coming to Denver and claiming one of us as her own blood. Rowdy never knew he had a sister after growing up in foster care, so the reunion had been rocky at best. Only now she fit in seamlessly with the rest of the wayward souls that made up the tight-knit unit my little sister, Ayden, had been so fortunate to marry into. I was also lucky that they all took me into the fold based entirely on the fact that Ayden wasn’t going to give me up. She might not like me very much all of the time, but she loved me unconditionally, and that was enough for the rest of the group to welcome me with open arms.
“She’s nice. She seems pretty cool with whatever comes her way.”
Zeb pushed his empty glass at me and ran his hands through his unruly hair. The guy was a contractor, built things for a living, so it kind of fit that he reminded me of a modern-day lumberjack.
“I’ve been flirting with her, teasing her and dropping hints since the day we met. She’s smart. If she was interested she would pick up on what I’m laying down.”
“Maybe.” I braced my arms on the bar and leaned across from him. I gave him a steady look and asked seriously, “But don’t you think she’s probably a little more used to formal invitations from someone that wants to take her out? Everything about Sayer screams country club and formality. Maybe she just doesn’t get what you’re after.”
He blinked at me for a second and then leaned back on his stool. “You think?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She hired you to work on her house even after you told her you served time. She let you be around Salem’s sister when we all know she’s protecting that girl like a mama bear, so she obviously trusts you and is comfortable around you. Maybe she’s waiting for you to up your game. Not all ladies are gonna start pulling off their clothes and crawl between the covers because you smile at them. I heard you tell Rowdy once that you weren’t afraid of doing the work if the lady is worth it. Sayer is worth it.”
She really was. She had helped me out of a hard spot not too long ago, and when Rowdy’s girlfriend had needed a safe place for her little sister to recover from a really terrible situation, Sayer hadn’t hesitated to take the girl in. She was as kind and generous as she was lovely. She deserved a guy that was willing to go the extra mile for her even if that guy kinda resembled a tattooed Paul Bunyan.
Zeb pushed up off the bar and lifted both of his dark eyebrows at me. “I question taking romantic advice from a guy that’s repeatedly turning down the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen. That’s just wasteful, man.”
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s the whole point: she’s not a piece of ass, and I don’t know why she’s suddenly acting like she is. Besides, any chick that can throw me in jail when I piss her off is off the table.” What I really meant but didn’t say was that I knew I was bound to screw up and piss her off. That was just what I did.
Zeb grunted. “I think I’d risk a night in lockup for her. Saying no to all of that is like a Herculean feat. Someone should nominate you for sainthood.”
I laughed drily and followed him to the front door so I could lock it behind him. “The halo would burst into flames if they got it anywhere near my head.”
He gave me a hard look. “You know I don’t think you’re half as bad as you seem to think you are, Asa. Trust me, I know better than most about screwing up on an epic level, but I’ve never let that define who I was going to be for the rest of my life.”
I might have bounced in and out of jail since I was a teenager, but I had never had to spend more than a few weeks at a time locked down. Zeb, though, had served several years behind bars for his mistake. The difference between us was that Zeb had broken the law because he felt like he didn’t have any other choice. I broke the law because I wanted to. The law got in my way, prevented me from getting what I wanted or what I thought I needed, so I ignored it and pretended like it didn’t matter.
“Some people screw up, and then some people are screw-ups. I fall firmly into the second category.”
There was no other explanation as to how Ayden and I could have half of the same genetic makeup and be so vastly different. Granted there was a good chance I absolutely