It was her third shift bartending, her first on the weekend and the busiest night she’d had yet, but it was surprisingly unstressful. The first couple of shifts, Ella had indeed stayed with Hudson, or rather, he’d come by Matty’s to keep an eye on her, which was a mixed bag for her. Ella grumbled about the fact that she didn’t need a babysitter, but she obviously adored Hudson and he went out of his way to make it fun for her, arriving with pizza, soda, and an armful of action movies that were definitely not age-appropriate.

Tonight, however, Ella was over at the Calloways and would be there ‘til the early afternoon tomorrow, which was nice. She imagined the crowds would stay a lot later tonight, and as obliging as Hudson was, she would have felt like an ass keeping him late. And she still didn’t like accepting favors from him. Plus there was the whole...awkward small talk when she got home, with him trying way too hard to be nice and her...still trying to freeze him out without being overly rude because he had just watched her niece for her.

It was a mess, and she was quite glad not to be heading home to it again tonight.

The other factor that helped to reduce her stress was the crowd itself.

The people here were just so nice all the time, which was a lot different than her horrible memories of bartending back in LA before she’d pursued her culinary career. Even when drunk and rowdy and boisterous, the people of Newcomb were still warm and easy to please.

Their drink orders were simple, and they knew how to wait when she was busy without making her feel like a monster. The place was buzzing with activity, filled with patrons covering a wide age range. There were all the regulars from breakfast lined up in the same seats they took in the mornings. In one booth, a giggly bunch of middle-aged ladies who were good friends of Mabel sat playing some card game Tali wasn’t familiar with. There was a mixed group of young people hanging out around the pool table who all worked at the nearby biological station. There were a few couples turning about the dance floor whenever a particularly beloved country song came on the radio, and another young couple seated at the bar, clearly on a date and tuning out everyone but each other.

Jack Warner, who’d co-owned the boat with Matt and Hudson, was there with his wife, Ida. They were in their late forties, and admitted they’d come in tonight specifically to see her, hoping to get a chance to talk. They were painfully sweet, and though it was busy, she’d been spending her quiet moments at their section of the bar, chatting with them. They wanted her and Ella to come over for dinner.

It was nice, working here. And strange. If she’d thought the conversations at breakfast were odd, it was nothing compared to the stories that spilled out of drunken mouths. She’d learned about at least five local legends, each one more insane and terrifying and hilarious than the next. The one about the yeti living in the mountains who ate anyone who refused his demands for friendship was her favorite. Then there were the equally tall hunting tales, that were clearly based in truth but stretched just a little too far to be believable. She now knew the origin stories of at least fifty percent of the taxidermied animals in the tavern, with a lot of sprinkled-on flourish.

But she was having fun, a lot more than she would be if she were sitting home alone at Matty’s, wondering what her friends back in LA were up to, reminiscing about making fun of snobby art while drinking wine from plastic cups at Cassia’s gallery nights or hanging out around a driftwood bonfire on a warm beach.

It was fun and easy and simple.

Until the front door swung open, bringing in a bitter wind and a face she hadn’t yet seen before during her time in Newcomb.

Tali lifted her head up as he walked in, and she definitely, definitely overflowed the pint she was pouring by a long shot as she watched him stride across the room and take a seat at the far corner of the bar, three seats away from anyone else.

Whoever he was, he was definitely new to her.

Because she would remember a face like that. He drew her eyes like a magnet, this riveting stranger. He wore a dark leather aviator jacket with a shearling collar that fit him like he’d walked off the page of a magazine. His hair was dark, his jaw looked like it had been chiseled by the damn gods, and his eyes, even though she was only able to glimpse them for a moment, had a dark intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

Tali wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone who made her do such a double take.

She only looked away when the overflowing beer reached the front of her jeans, soaked her crotch, and made her jump a foot in surprise. She looked around in a panic wondering if anyone had noticed, but thankfully they were all too wrapped up in their own conversations. Red-faced, she grabbed a rag and began to discreetly try to pat down her crotch.

Wow.

She wished with all her heart now that there was someone, anyone else working with her, because she would absolutely demand that they go serve him instead. She wasn’t sure she could do it. She stole several quick furtive glances his way, hoping getting a better look at him might normalize him, make him less intimidating, but each quick look only allowed her to soak in more of his beauty. Why was she so thrown by this? It’s not as if LA wasn’t full to bursting with gorgeous young aspiring actors and musicians and male models. She’d never been particularly weak for them, never balked at having to serve them when she’d worked in a bar or restaurant.

But this guy.

Damn.

And he was alone, too. If he’d gone in to join another group it would’ve been easier. She’d already built up a rapport with everyone else here, and that would set her nerves at ease, make it easier.

She worked her way slowly down the bar to him, checking in with everyone else who looked like they needed a refill first.

Finally there was no putting it off any longer.

“Hey,” she said, forcing herself to smile in spite of the thrumming of her heart.

He was even better looking up close, dark, close-cut stubble lining that masculine jaw, his eyes dark and reflecting the low lighting of the bar.

She found it more bearable to look at him indirectly just above his eyes rather than directly into them. Which probably made her look unhinged, but...she just had not been prepared for this, and her damn crotch was still soaked, and not in the good way (although a few more seconds of looking at him and it probably would be that kind of soaked too).

“What can I get for you?” She forced a smile, though her heart was hammering in her chest.

“I’ll take a Jack, please. Double,” he said. His voice was low and rumbling, and it made her suck in her breath hard. She started to nod, but then he was speaking again, and she had to fight to listen to his words instead of drowning in his dark, soulful eyes. He wasn’t old, probably right around her age, somewhere in his mid- to late-twenties, but his eyes had a depth she hadn’t seen in a person her age.

“Actually,” he said, quiet enough that she had to lean closer to hear, even though what she really wanted was to bolt away from his impossible beauty. “It’s pretty busy in here. Maybe save us both some effort and just bring over a bottle.”

She sighed with relief. That would definitely save her the agony of having to walk over here too much. Her knees felt unsteady just being near him. She hadn’t touched a drink all night, but his intense eyes were intoxicating, dizzying.

“You got it. Um...ice?” she asked.

“Yeah, please,” he said.

She scooted quickly down the bar, grabbed a fresh bottle of Jack and filled a glass with ice. “Here you go,” she said, swallowing hard. “Is there...anything else I can get you?” she asked, praying for a no.

“This’ll do fine. Thanks,” he said, raising his glass to her.

“Did you want to pay now or…”

“It can wait ‘til the crowd thins a bit. I’m in no hurry,” he said.

Man, everything about him was so smooth. His looks. His mannerisms. Everything but the stubble, just enough to make him look rugged and a little dangerous, enough to make her long to feel the scrape of it against her own smooth skin and—

“Okay! Enjoy!” she said a bit too brightly, turning around fast and cringing as soon as her back was to him.

As the night went on, Tali had to give a silent prayer of thanks that the gorgeous stranger likely had some alcohol dependency going on and had requested a full bottle. Which was awful of her, but honestly, the fact that he’d known himself enough to ask for a bottle directly was saving her a lot of embarrassment. Even glancing in his direction was enough to get her a little flustered. When the group of biologists insisted on her taking a shot with them, she didn’t even put up a fight.

She checked in on him just once to ask if he wanted to cash out, but he simply said “I’m good,” and she decided he could flag her down on his own if he wanted to head out. Or just...just take it, honestly.

But he really was in no hurry. As the night wore on and more and more people stumbled out the door, he stuck around. She wondered what he was thinking about over there. He didn’t have a book, or a phone, or anything. What was he gaining, sitting over there, drinking alone in a crowd, not trying to talk to anyone? What was on his mind? What thoughts swirled behind those fathomless eyes?

It made her feel curious and a little bit lonely, but she tried not to feel anything about it at all, and concentrated on polishing glasses and pouring drinks instead.

“Thanks a bunch, sweetheart.’” Ace Jebson, one of her favorite regulars, slapped a twenty on the counter and got to his feet.

His two drinking companions who were much less boisterous had already stumbled out half an hour ago. Tali glanced around the bar. The only one left was that quiet, gorgeous stranger. He’d worked his way through half that bottle of whiskey and seemed lost in thought, unaware that the last remaining customer was about to take off. “You want some help clearin’ the place out, Miss Tali?”

“Hmm?” she asked. “Oh, no, thanks, Jeb. I’ll let him finish up that glass. I’ve still got some washing up to do. You can head home if you want.”

He looked concerned, but then nodded, eyes glassy. “I’d better do, or the missus will have something to say about it. Who am I kidding? She’ll have somethin’ to say about it as is. But I’d better make sure there’s a little bit less of it, for the sake of my ears and sanity.”

“Yeah, Jeb, I think you’d better,” she laughed, patting him on the arm. “Thanks for this,” she said, pocketing her tip.

“No problem,” Jeb said. Then, lowering his voice added, “He gives you any trouble, you call me right up, ya hear? I’ll come on down and sort him out.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for a minute, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper. “There’s my number.”

“Thanks,” Tali said, trying not to laugh. Jeb was eighty years old. He was Alaska tough, but he was still eighty damn years old. The guy at the end of the bar seemed harmless enough, but even if he wasn’t, she very much doubted poor Jeb could give him so much as a paper cut. “Have a good night.”

Despite what she said, as soon as Jeb headed out into the snowy night, she instantly became far too aware of the stranger’s presence, and the large, open room of the tavern suddenly seemed small and hot. She busied herself with tidying up the bar, washing glasses, and sweeping away peanut shells. More than once, she thought she felt his dark eyes on her, but when she looked up, he was just staring down into the amber brown of his glass.

She did what she could to delay confrontation, hoping he’d see her getting ready to close and take the hint, but soon enough her patience began to wear thin. If he thought she was going to sit here while he finished the rest of that bottle, he had another thing coming.

It was getting a little rude, and rudeness was not something she tolerated well, even from gorgeous men. Hudson could attest to that.

Reluctantly, she made her way over to his corner of the bar, reminding herself that as a struggling waitress, she’d once accidentally served shellfish to a Hollywood producer who was allergic and nothing in her life in the service industry could ever possibly be worse than that.

He didn’t look up as she approached, so she cleared her throat.

“So, uh. You’re the last man standing. Or the last man sitting and brooding, I should say,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him and reaching for his glass. He reached for it too. He was faster, deftly sliding it out of her grasp.

“You hinting at something there, darlin’?” he asked, giving her a long stare, taking a slow sip of his whiskey.

She placed a hand on her hip, gave him her best withering stare, and tried not to feel dizzy as she forced herself to maintain eye contact.

“I think it was more than a hint. But if you need it put more clearly...you’re paying flat rate for your bottle and it’s time to pack it in, buddy. There’s no one else here. And since I doubt you’ll be buying anything else tonight, there’s no incentive for me to stick around,” she said.

Aside from looking at his fucking gorgeous face, but that would probably get weird after a while.

“Don’t know about that. Think I could make it worth your while. I’ll buy you a drink if you want one,” he said, flashing her a perfect smile.

Did Alaska just produce excruciatingly handsome men the way it did oil and fish, like a goddamn natural resource? This was one resource she definitely wouldn’t mind consuming.

Where did that thought come from?

She ought to shut this down, and shut it down quick. This was headed nowhere good.

Instead, she found herself giving him a smile and reaching for his bottle of Jack.

“Buy me a drink? Is that really necessary? You’ve got a whole bottle right here. Well. Some of a bottle anyway,” she said, waggling it at him.

“Yeah, but you’re from LA right? I figured a girl like you’d want something with a weird name that comes in a color not found in nature,” he smirked, inclining his darkly stubbled chin up at her. “With a little umbrella in it?”

She gave him a look. “First of all, no. I would not. Second of all, even if it were a yes, I’m pretty sure there is nothing behind this bar that isn’t some shade of brown or totally clear. And not an umbrella in sight. And third of all, I’ve gotta say it’s a little weird that a guy who sat in a corner all night not talking to anyone, who I’ve exchanged maybe twenty words with, knows where I’m from.”

He gave her an appraising look through. “Is it really?” he shrugged. “People are loud and I’ve got ears. And this is a small town. New people stick out.”

Fair enough, she thought, putting the bottle to her lips and taking a swig of it. After all, Ace Jebson had spent the whole night shouting, “Hey, Los Angeles, hit us with another round, would ya?” across the bar every time he wanted a new drink. And she’d already learned how quick gossip spread through the town and how indiscreet people were about conversations they had in public.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, sliding his bottle back to him. “But I think you’d better take the rest of it on the road.”

“Really?” he asked, taking another sip from his dwindling glass. “You got something compelling you gotta run home to? Something more exciting than sticking around to let me kick your ass at pool?” He oozed charm with every word, and she couldn’t help but smile for a moment.

Then she shook her head. “If by kick my ass you mean I decide to take pity on you and hold back to make you feel better about your inferiority...well you’d still be wrong. I don’t do the coddling thing. Failure is the best teacher,” she said, jutting her chin at him.

She wasn’t quite sure where her sudden confidence was coming from. Her alcohol tolerance was not so low that the whiskey was hitting her already. But wherever it was coming from, it felt good.

“Does that mean you’re accepting my challenge?” he asked with another flash of teeth.

“I guess it does. If only because this smug attitude needs breaking,” she added, gesturing at him.

Her heart was starting to race. This was not like her, engaging so readily with a stranger in a bar. Even while out with a gaggle of her friends, she was suspicious by nature, and felt like the only connections she managed to make on a night out were shallow and fleeting and not worth her time.

But this isn’t LA, a voice inside her said. And you don’t have a gaggle of friends.

And those eyes.

They were dark and anything but shallow. She felt like she was drowning in their depths already. There was something downright magnetic about him, this quiet stranger who suddenly seemed to have quite a lot to say.

“Trust me, the smug thing...it’s all an act,” he winked. “Pegged you as the competitive type the moment I walked in. Knew it was the surest way to get you to agree to stick around. I honestly can’t pool play for shit, but you’ll see that for yourself in a minute. Unless you’re the kinda person to go back on her word,” he added.

“No,” she said. “I’m not.”

“Knew that too,” he said.

She rolled her eyes at him, and pulled a glass from under the bar, filling it halfway with Coke, then grabbing his bottle and pouring in some Jack.

“A mixed drink? Really? And here I was thinking you pulled from the bottle like a champ,” he teased.

“Trust me, my body is already starting to rebel against me for that,” she laughed. “I’ll drink it mixed, and your judgment will slide off me like water off a duck’s back.”

He laughed again, a rich sound that filled her belly with warmth.

Feeling bold, she opted not to walk all the way around the bar, but to simply jump over it. She almost pulled it off with grace, making it over with ease but stumbling a bit on the landing.

He let out another bark of a laugh and caught her by the elbow. “Bartender extraordinaire, and an Olympic gymnast, too? How the hell did a girl like you end up in this frozen hellhole?”

“Do me a favor?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy in a way that made the hair on her neck stand up. And he smelled so damn good, which was unfortunately not a trait a lot of Alaskan men shared in her experience so far.

“Talk to me about literally anything else on earth?”

“You got it,” he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her over to the pool table. Briefly, some instinct in her told her to rebel. She’d never liked being led anywhere by a man, but then the sensation of his big hand covering hers sent a thrill through her up to her brain, which immediately understood that it had been overruled. She let him guide her to the pool table, enjoying the rush that was now swirling about in her belly.