Nash was in a mood. He’d reamed out the kitchen staff for putting too many garnishments on the burgers—how in hell were the customers supposed to eat the damn things when they couldn’t open their mouths wide enough? The grease needed changing in the fryer, and the damn dishwasher was running half-full. Whatever happened to conservation?

He’d also had a word or two with Tiny, who he’d caught free-pouring whiskey like it was Kool-Aid. If his staff kept this up, he’d be out of business before Christmas. On top of that, Honey hadn’t shown for her shift. She’d given it to Susie, a girl who had no bartending experience and who had only just started serving.

To say he’d been displeased would be an understatement, and he’d made no effort to hide it. First off, there were some things he needed to say to his absent bartender, and damned if he was gonna wait. And secondly, he was pretty sure he’d scared Susie half to death and would have to deal with her later. For now, he was just happy to run the empty glasses through the washer and ignore everything but his bad mood.

“What’s up, Booker? You look like someone dumped a nasty load in your cornflakes this morning.”

Nash spied Wyatt Blackwell leaning against the bar. The former NASCAR driver nodded and pointed to the empty mug in Nash’s hand. “I’ll take one of those.” He glanced up at the flat screen and frowned. “Travis is playing tonight. Why the hell are we watching a bunch of guys doing yoga in the desert?”

Nash’s scowl deepened. Great. The Red Wings and their goalie, Travis Blackwell, meant a busy night of locals out to watch one of Crystal Lake’s favorite sons. Nash was definitely off his game, because he should have known that. Being short-staffed wasn’t going to get him home to his hot tub, which right now was the only place he wanted to be.

Wyatt twisted his head nearly upside down, eyes still on the television above the bar, and Nash followed his gaze. Yeah. No man with any pride would wear that getup and position his body like that. He grabbed the remote and switched it to the Red Wings pregame.

“Where’s your pretty bartender?” Wyatt asked, accepting his mug of ale.

“Where’s your wife?” Nash snapped, grabbing up an empty and wiping the bartop.

Wyatt snorted. “My wife is at a board meeting. What the hell does that have to do with your bartender?” He accepted a draft from Nash and took a sip, swiping at the foam on his mouth. “Just saying, she’s a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than your mug.”

A crash sounded behind Wyatt, and Nash wanted to throw in the towel and get the hell out of Dodge. Susie stood, surrounded by broken glass, looking as if she was going to break into tears.

“For fuck’s sake,” he growled. He pinched his nose, feeling his temper rise and knowing there was no good reason for it. At least, no reason he wanted to think about. Nope. Not going anywhere near that one.

“I got this, boss,” Tiny said, moving past him. The big guy grabbed a broom from under the bar and headed to Susie’s side just as the doors to the Coach House flew open, letting in a swath of wind and snow and a large group of new customers.

The only person Nash zeroed in on was the dark-haired woman who’d stolen his sleep, his good mood, and, apparently, his brother. Cam bent low, listening attentively to something she said. He smiled and elbowed her like they were old pals.

Nash wanted to hop the bar and smash his brother’s perfect fucking nose.

She glanced up then, and the smile on her face slowly died as their eyes locked. For just that second, all the noise in the bar vanished, and there was just the two of them in a vacuum of unsaid things. Her hair was long and loose. It snaked over her shoulders like a dark cloak. Her cheeks were pink from the cold outside, and her eyes were luminous. She was dressed in faded jeans, his favorite pair, if he wasn’t mistaken, and a black leather jacket with fur at the collar.

A heartbeat passed. The physical thing—yeah, that was still there—he’d have to find a way to deal with it. It was the other that posed more of a problem. And he’d have to address that tonight.

She was propelled forward by the crowd behind her, a crowd that included Hudson and Regan Blackwell, Travis’s wife. The mayor, Blair Hubber, and Jake Edwards weren’t far behind.

What the hell were they all doing together?

Honey said something to Cam, and the two of them pushed their way through the crowd, heading toward the bar. She slid out of her jacket and handed it to Cam.

“Looks like you can use some help,” she said lightly, grabbing up a couple of empty jugs.

“We need to talk,” Nash said tersely.

“It can wait,” Honey replied, ignoring him as she nodded to a customer.

Cam had the nerve to snort before heading off to hang up their coats. Nash glared at him and moved past Honey, though he stopped and leaned close.

“I’ve got all night.” He let that settle and headed over to the table Hudson, Regan, Blair, and Jake had claimed. Wyatt joined them, along with a few more folks he knew casually. Andrea Lee smiled as she took off her pink woolen hat and sat down. She undid her scarf and rested her elbows on the table.

“Nash Booker. I haven’t been in since you’ve taken over from Sal, but Honey insisted we come back for a drink to celebrate.”

“Yeah?” Regan was practically sitting in her husband’s lap, while Hudson slid onto the seat beside them. “What are we celebrating?”

“Only the fact that Honey single-handedly saved not only the youth drop-in center by negotiating a generous donation, but she managed to convince the Blackwells to buy the entire building.” She shook her head and laughed. “He’s agreed to lessen our rent by half.” She high-fived the mayor. “Half! This is going to let us help so many more in our community.”

“Did she, now.” Nash looked over his shoulder to the bar. Tiny and Honey were fast at work serving drinks, while Cam was helping Susie. It wasn’t often that someone surprised the hell out of him. But Honey was making it a habit—he just wasn’t sure he liked it.

When he turned back to the table, his mood darkened even more when he found Hudson’s eyes on the woman who’d put him in the bad mood in the first place.

“I’ll buy the first round.” The mayor handed Nash his credit card, and that was the end of the conversation.

Two hours later, the Red Wings were winning and Travis Blackwell was on his way to his first shutout of the season. The bar was full, though Hudson and the rest of their table had gone home, and the music was set to his playlist. AC/DC and nothing else. “Highway to Hell” pumped in his ear, and it enabled him to pretty much gas any form of conversation between himself and Jade Daniels. The woman had shown up thirty minutes earlier, wearing the tightest pair of jeans on the planet, shiny red come-fuck-me boots, and a black top that barely contained her breasts. The woman was on a mission, and it was obvious he was the end game.

He’d considered it for all of five seconds. Thought that maybe a roll between the sheets would make him forget Honey. But the moment that thought crossed his mind, all he could picture was Honey on the bar, half-naked as he thrust inside her. He heard the noises she made. Remembered the way she felt.

All of it pissed him off and contributed to an even fouler mood.

“You planning on telling Jade you’re not interested, or are you going to let her sweat it out all night?” Cam tossed a dirty rag in the bar sink and rolled his shoulders.

Nash glanced at his brother and frowned. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to have him work here. His brother had always liked to poke his nose into Nash’s business, but he wasn’t ready to go back to the way things were. Maybe he never would.

“How’s that your business?”

“It’s not.” Cam shrugged. “Just seems like the right thing to do, though. It’s obvious to everyone you’re not interested.” He nodded to Honey. “At least, not anymore.”

Yeah. He wasn’t doing this with Cam. “You want to know what I think?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not really,” Cam replied.

“I think you should get your shit together before you start handing out advice.”

Cam shook his head. “You always do that.”

“What?”

“Deflect when you know I’m right.”

Nash finished making Susie’s cocktail order and passed her the fruity beverage along with two Heinekens. Honey was busy with Tiny at the other end of the bar, the stools in front of them claimed by regulars, a lot of them sitting there because of Honey.

He didn’t want to do this, but Nash found himself turning back to Cam. Some old habits died hard. “What do you think of her?”

“Jade?” His brother quipped.

Nash glared at his brother. He was going to start throwing punches if Cam didn’t cut it out.

“I think Honey is complicated. Hard to get a read on. She doesn’t give a lot away.”

No shit.

“She’s also hot as hell, with a mind of her own. I don’t think many guys can handle her. I think she handles them, and she does that for a lot of reasons. She likes to be in control, and she sure as hell doesn’t like to get too close.”

Nash watched his brother closely, a slow burn that had no right to be there lighting his gut on fire. Was he missing something? “You seem to know a lot about a woman you just met.”

Something flickered in Cam’s eyes, and he looked away. “That’s where you’re wrong, brother. I don’t know Honey any better than you do. I just used to know someone like her. That’s all.” Cam didn’t offer up anything else. He headed to the kitchen to pick up an order. Nash watched him go, hating the distance between them. Hating what his brother had done—but thinking that maybe there was more to the story.

He shoved all of it aside and continued on with his night, successfully avoiding a scene with Jade, which was a big win. The girl liked attention. When she asked if he was stopping by her place later, he told her he’d be closing, so probably not.

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

He held her gaze because he couldn’t be anything other than honest. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking away quickly. She tried to hide it, but he knew he’d hurt her, and that made Nash feel like shit.

“Jade,” he said gently.

“I get it. I wasn’t the woman you’ve been eyeballing all night.” She looked pointedly at Honey.

“I haven’t been eyeballing her. She’s my employee.” He tried, but his protest sounded weak, even to himself.

“You keep telling yourself that, Nash.” She smiled, a sad sort of thing, grabbed her purse, and disappeared into the night.

Nash glanced around the bar. Did everyone in the place think he had a thing for his bartender?

By midnight, with the hockey game long over, his customers buoyed by a win and Blackwell’s shutout, Nash called a cab for the last of them and told Tiny to call it a night. Cam was stacking chairs in the back, and Honey was restocking the coolers behind the bar.

He could leave. Head home, crack open a beer, and sit under the stars in his hot tub. But he didn’t want to. Not yet. A strange kind of exhilaration pulsed through him. He’d had a long day working on his house and a full shift here, but he wasn’t anywhere near tired.

He and Honey were going to have that conversation because there were some things he needed cleared up, and he was looking forward to getting some answers.

He grabbed the till and headed toward his office. “Cam, lock up on your way out. You know the code. And Honey? In my office. Now.”

She gave him a look that wasn’t exactly friendly. “If you think you can talk to me like I’m a naughty five-year-old, you’ve been drinking the wrong kind of Kool-Aid, my friend.”

“I’m not your friend, remember?” He kept moving. “Get your butt in my office, or I’ll come upstairs later. You decide.”

She took her sweet-ass time. Nash had finished counting the till and receipts and was just about to lock his office and head up to her apartment when she sauntered in and flopped onto the overstuffed plaid chair directly in front of him. She leaned back, crossed her legs over the side of the chair and began to bounce her foot.

“What’s up, Booker?”

She was doing it again. Trying to control a situation she had no right controlling. It was about time he took Honey Harrison down a peg.

Or two.

“I pulled your job application.” He reached for the paperwork he’d dug out earlier. “There’s a lot you didn’t fill out.”

The foot bouncing stopped.

Nash pushed the form across the desk along with a pen. “I didn’t call your references when you applied for this job.” His eyes narrowed. “Which was good for you, because two of them aren’t in service, if they ever were, and the Rockin’ Rooster never heard of you.”

She shrugged, a slow, languid gesture meant to show indifference. But he knew better. She couldn’t hide the heat that crept across her cheeks or the pulse that beat wildly at her neck.

“You want to explain?”

She ignored his question with one of her own. “Are you firing me?” she asked slowly.

“Are you going to answer the question?”

“I needed the job, so I made shit up.” She paused. “Are you going to fire me?”

What the hell was this girl hiding? And why did she get under his skin so damn much? She’d been a lone wolf since she’d arrived in Crystal Lake. He recognized the type. She wasn’t sticking around. So why did he care?

A smart man would tell her to pack her bags and leave.

“I should fire you. I don’t like working with people I don’t trust.” He leaned back in his chair and pinned his dark eyes on her. “I heard you asked Hudsy for money.”

She sat up straight in the chair, eyes flashing, the pulse at her neck ramping up like crazy. “The community support center needed money, and the Blackwells have a lot of it.” She thrust her chin forward. “It’s really none of your business.”

He’d touched on a sore spot. Nash didn’t know what to think. On one hand, he admired anyone who volunteered their time to help others. From what he’d been told, Honey was making a big difference to more than few teens at the youth center. But she was hiding something. She’d lied and misrepresented herself. And now she was tangled up with the Blackwells? Something wasn’t right. But the only way to figure out what that something was, was to keep her close.

“You work for me. You are my business.”

“You think because we had sex, you have a right to ask me about what I do on my days off?” Her eyes flashed.

“I don’t care what you do on your days off, Honey. I care about my friends and this town. If you want to keep your job, tread lightly.” The threat was subtle, but he got his point across. He got to his feet and grabbed his jacket, walking around his desk until he was inches from her. She stood in response, her scent filling his nose, her body heat licking his skin.

He realized, fully, in that moment, Honey was no good for him. If he went down this road, things wouldn’t end well. “You’re right about one thing. We’re not friends, and I don’t see us moving in that direction. As for the sex thing, you don’t need to worry about that either. The other night was a one-off. It didn’t mean anything, and it won’t happen again.”

She made a sound of disgust. “I wouldn’t let you touch me if you were the last man on the planet.” She glared at him, the air between them practically sizzling with energy. Nash felt it. His gaze slowly dropped to her T-shirt, and within seconds, the outline of her nipples showed.

“I think you would,” he replied, a dangerous tone in his voice. “But with three or four billion of us, I guess we’ll never find out.”

He pocketed his cell and pulled out his keys. “Next time you want to switch a shift, you go through me.” He headed for the door and didn’t bother with a good-night.

Which was probably a good thing on account of the fact Honey gave him the one-finger salute on his way out.