Page 114 of Mountain Men Heroes
He clasped hands with Damon. Light poured over him and caught in the sexy brush of silver through his sideburns and coarse beard as he claimed the now empty stool with an easy grace.
He grabbed a handful of nuts from the fresh stash she’d just supplied and threw back a couple.
“Thank you, Mr. Savage,” she offered, half of her attention moving to the people.
Smoke from cigars and the occasional cigarette trapped the soft light of the bar blocking a clear view into the darker corners.
She closed the tap after filling three more mugs, the feel of eyes on her coming from somewhere in the deepest corner as if someone watched from the shadows. Tables of people laughing and enjoying the shared time with friends filled every inch to the back wall but still she couldn’t find the source of the unease.
“Pop. What can I get ya?”
She turned a half ear on what the men were saying while cleaning a few mugs for the rack.
“Same old, your momma wants to head home soon and set up a room for you.” He motioned his glass toward Ivy, and she turned her full attention on him.
“Me? Nah, don’t worry about me, Mr. Savage. There’s no need for the extra work.” She didn’t do sleepovers and family feely times. Period. The hotel she saw down the road would do just fine for the three days she would be in town.
Intense eyes swiveled her way. “I’ll just grab a room at the hotel. I’m only staying a few days anyway.”
“Nonsense.” Big beefy hands clasped hers over the bar, and Ivy nearly choked on her own shock. “You’re family, girlie. Can’t leave you in some dingy hotel room.”
He patted her hands a couple of times as if his word was law. They probably were. For family. She wasn’t family.
What the hell did she say to him? She busied herself with the newly filled mug Damon poured and replaced her trapped hand with the frothy goodness instead. Savage senior was a king in this part of the world. As a direct descendant of the people who established this town way back before even her great-grandparents were conceived people looked to him for leadership. So essentially she’d just been offered—and refused—a room in the king’s home. King might be a strong word, but still it all felt very surreal. Though she was probably the only one that viewed it that way.
Two days ago she was filling out legal paperwork on the death of a patient under her care. She took a long breath and one more to calm her nerves and steady her pouring hand. Today she was slinging beers in freaking Alaska of all places and speaking with a king. Couldn’t contrast her life anymore if she tried. That had to count for something on her bucket list.
Damon inhaled deeply beside her, and she cast a glance at him from beneath a few strands of hair that slipped from their hold to brush the side of her face. If his father was king, that made Damon a prince?
A prince for Christmas. Her glasses slid a bit, and she took her time pushing them back into place. She needed to find her contacts because the damn things drove her crazy.
“You look like something is on your mind. Everything okay?” Damon placed a light touch on her lower back, his lips close to her ear and the roughness of his voice the last temptation she needed.
Unable to resist, Ivy reached out and pressed a finger in the slight dip in his chin. Was it bad she wanted to melt into the tender touch and find out what his high-on-sex voice sounded like?
“Yep.” She dodged his questioning look by moving away to clean a spotless area of the counter. Breathe, girl, breathe. In and out.
Music carried over the clink of glasses, and the lively two-stepping music from earlier died down to a romantic jingle of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” and everyone with a loved one grabbed their partner for a slow groping session in the middle of the dance floor.
Slowly she wrestled control over her breathing and tuned into what the guys were talking about.
“Either Damon can bring you out or you can catch a ride with your sister when you’re ready, but you have a home as long as you are in town.”
Before arriving in Savage Ridge, the only family she had was her sister. Now everyone she ran into offered a place in their home. Her senses recognized the tickle of nervousness that wanted to swell to the size of a bloated toad in the middle of her throat. “Thank you, Mr. Savage.”
He nodded and watched over the crowd, like a shepherd caring for his flock.
For the next several hours Ivy and Damon worked side by side until the last of the customers slipped out the door and headed home, leaving only her sister in the back wiping off tables and collecting trash in a bag. Ivy tsked. That woman would work up until the time the baby was ready to pop out.
Damon flicked the open sign off but didn’t bother with the lock.
“In Houston, you leave the front door open like that and you’re basically inviting someone to rob you.” She rose on her tiptoes and slid various colored bottles into their slots on the back shelf. At least she hoped she was putting things where they belonged. In all the bars she had worked in, the owners always organized by strengths of the alcohol.
“Good thing we’re not in Houston.” Damon leaned on the bar for a brief second with both of his palms splayed out and his eyes bright with a tease. “Everyone is welcomed here, no matter the time.”
Really? She glanced across the bar top at him. “But aren’t you worried about rowdy teenagers out for a good time?” Beyond the double windows lining the front of the bar, the only thing that moved was angry amounts of snow flurries. Everyone had cleared out. Even the stores nestled close on either side of the bar and across the deserted main street stood dark except for the occasional lit Christmas displays.
Okay. So he had a point.