Chapter Two
Abbi’s eyes widened as the gorgeous man from across the bar put a fresh pint in front of her. Had he seriously just called her baby?
Even more unbelievably, the guy then nudged Russ like Russ wasn’t built like a tree trunk, impossible to budge. “Excuse me, man. Mind if I pull up a stool?”
Russ had been standing over her like she might have forgotten he was six foot whatever and way bigger than her. Like his towering height might convince her to make the mistake of going home with him again. But now the guy from the other end of the bar was dragging over a stool to fit in the space where Russ had been standing. Apparently he didn’t get, or didn’t care, that Russ was enormous, tattooed, terrifying-looking, an ex-con, and probably the guy you’d have to call to fix your roof in a snowstorm or build you a new drainage system, so not exactly someone you wanted to piss off at a bar.
“Mack poured me another drink for you,” the man said. “Glad you got started without me.”
“On the house!” Mack called and winked before she spun away to attend to someone else.
That little minx.
Mack had set Abbi up with guys before. But usually she left the define-the-relationship part to Abbi. Abbi had been in some questionable situations—including the time she’d taken it upon herself to find out how far the tattoos went down Russ’s back. (Answer: all the way.) But she’d never found herself with a boyfriend she hadn’t met.
To be honest, she didn’t find herself with boyfriends very often. Hookups? Hell yes. But the closest thing she’d had to a long-term relationship had been half a lifetime ago, when she was a completely different person. To even think of it as the r-word made her want to throw up.
Not that she was on the market, anyway. As a naturalist, she was always in the woods, traversing trails, maintaining campsites, keeping tabs on what was growing or dying off and trying to figure out why. She wasn’t going to slow down or spend less time alone in the backcountry just for some guy—no matter how big his arms.
So he’d better know this was a one-time deal when she took the drink, channeled her inner thespian, and said, “Finally! I thought you’d never make it.”
He was tall and chiseled, with muscles that looked like they’d rip his T-shirt if he flexed them hard enough—and if the fabric wasn’t so faded and soft. His hair was cropped short but he had a few days of stubble to counteract the clean cut. He looked like he’d been living in that T-shirt and jeans for a while, but Abbi didn’t mind.
She’d noticed him across the bar, thinking that if he needed to change his clothes, she’d be happy to help take them off.
But then she saw Mack pour him two drinks and had to extinguish that little fantasy. Clearly he was meeting someone. Back to figuring out how to get Russ out of her life. Not just for tonight, but permanently.
Only now it looked like she had her answer to that problem. And if it wasn’t typically the way she’d choose to handle a situation…at least it gave her a start.
She realized Russ was staring at her, having no idea what to do with this intruder. He’d had his back to the bar and hadn’t noticed Tyler nursing his whiskey, busy being quite obviously not Abbi’s boyfriend. She should say something else, make this sham more legit. She cleared her throat. “So, sweetheart. How’s it going?”
That wasn’t going to win any Oscars. Or convince Russ to leave her alone. She touched the guy’s arm in a way that she hoped projected girlfriend levels of familiarity and not shock—and delight—at how his skin felt to her touch.
Russ gave an exaggerated frown. “Who the fuck are you?”
Which, props to Russ, was an excellent question.
“Where are my manners?” The guy stuck a hand out to Russ. “I’m Tyler.”
“My new boyfriend,” Abbi said, in case Russ was too thick to get the point.
Russ stared at Abbi. “You don’t have a boyfriend.”
Abbi slid closer to Tyler, pressing her body against him.
Minus one for needing a man to save her. Minus another one for perpetuating all sorts of “You can’t have me because another man already claimed me” bullshit when saying no to Russ wasn’t enough.
Plus eleventy billion for getting to feel Tyler’s muscles up close and personal.
“I’m pretty sure I know who my boyfriend is.” She added a hand to his knee.
She hoped she wasn’t going overboard. But Tyler didn’t seem to mind. She ran her thumb over his jeans, just low enough to be chaste, just high enough not to be too safe. Abbi wasn’t a fan of safe.
Safe was boring. And Abbi was not boring. She didn’t need to be coddled. She didn’t need anyone to pretend to take care of her anymore.
“You think you can lie to me and get away with it?” Russ snorted and ran a hand down his mouth. Abbi knew that gesture, the one he used in some half-assed attempt to push the anger back in right before it exploded. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat. Abbi almost felt bad for him. But he’d come back from a four-month construction job in Spokane assuming he had every right to her bed when she’d been nothing but clear when he left that they were over. So there was a limit to her sympathy.
As soon as he returned, he’d started calling. And calling. Demanding to see her. Claiming she owed it to him to “give him another chance.”
When she stopped picking up, he drove by her place. Banged on her door so much she’d taken to pretending not to be home. He’d broken the hinges on the gate to her backyard and she’d dropped to the floor, cowering under the bed, as she heard the wood splinter.
Her friends told her to call the police, but she was adamant. No cops. Her sophomore year of high school, Owen Cash had looked right in Abbi’s eyes before he closed his book, put down his chalk, and let those grim-faced officers lead him away. She hadn’t been the one to betray him. She’d been so, so good about keeping them secret, just like Mr. Cash said.
But it still felt like her fault. Everything felt like her fault, no matter how many times she lied and said she knew that it wasn’t.
Tyler stood slowly until he was chest to chest with Russ. Abbi winced, bracing herself for the eruption of testosterone that was coming. On second thought, maybe this charade was more trouble than it was worth.
But Tyler didn’t explode. It was as though everything inside him circled too deeply to ripple the surface. “Is there a problem?” he asked with total control.
Russ sucked the air between his teeth, but Tyler wasn’t giving him the confrontation he craved. In the end, he muttered something about losers and walked away.
Normally Abbi hated playing the damsel, the one who needed to be rescued from the big bad man. It meant she’d wind up indebted to Tyler, and she’d learned a long time ago not to owe anyone anything.
But Tyler wasn’t Cash. And she sure as hell wasn’t fifteen anymore.
“Thanks for that,” she said when Russ left, and as much as she was glad to be rid of him, she wished she hadn’t lost her excuse to press close to her savior.
But when she glanced over her shoulder, Russ was making a beeline for a group of guys he knew who were sitting at a table. Maybe there was still a chance to turn this night around.
“He’s still back there,” she said, hoping Russ would leave. Hoping Russ would stay if it meant Tyler would, too.
Tyler ran a hand over his jaw, slow and easy, as if trying not to let those dimples show. “Then I guess you’re not rid of me yet.”
He sat next to her and reached for his drink. She watched him swallow, the column of his neck, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. No matter that she had a beer in front of her—she was suddenly parched.
“Where are you from?” she asked, straining for conversation when all she really wanted was to taste the whiskey off his lips.
“Not here.”
“What do you do?”
Half a smile. The sense he wouldn’t let himself give more. “No talking about work.”
Abbi let her own grin spread. “Fine with me.”
It wasn’t like Sexy Stranger needed to know about the firebreak the Forest Service was building around Gold Mountain, or the fact that Abbi’s career hinged on making sure it didn’t go through.
Her office was so small, there were hardly any opportunities to advance. But her boss was retiring, giving Abbi a once-in-a-lifetime chance to secure her dream job. As head of the Gold Mountain Nature Center, she could oversee projects and bring real change to the field. She knew she didn’t have all the skills the hiring committee was looking for, but she’d begged for the chance to take the lead on blocking the firebreak. If she succeeded, she’d have a proven track record showing she could handle it when things got tough. If not, and an outside candidate came along with more experience, then it looked like she’d be stuck at the same rung in the same small office forever.
But nothing killed a lady boner quite like talking about all the ways she might fail. Shamelessly, she slid her leg up his, letting him know what she did want to do instead. The muscle in his jaw jumped. His eyes flashed dark over his whiskey glass.
“California,” he said suddenly. “Southern.”
“What?”
“That’s where I’m from. Different from here.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah. That’s kind of the point.” He leaned closer. “Laugh like I just said something funny.”
“Why?” she asked, and he gave a tilt of his head behind her, where Russ was looking at them.
“We have an audience.”
She grinned and he inched closer, bringing his lips to her ear. He whispered: “Poor Russ can’t stop staring at you. I can’t say I blame him.”
Abbi traced a hand up his knee. Brought her other hand to the stubble on his jaw. Were they still pretending? It was getting hard to tell.
She thought about Russ, watching. She thought about work, waiting. She thought about Cash, those memories from long ago. But she didn’t want to be thinking at all.
His lips were so close to hers. Almost touching, almost pulling away. The anticipation as exciting as what she was waiting for.
A few hours with someone who wasn’t from here, who’d be gone before he started pushing too close… It was exactly her kind of setup. No risk, and all the reward.
She moved like she was going to kiss him and felt him arc toward her touch. At the last second, she turned and traced her lips up his cheek, toward his ear instead.
“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered.
“Anything you want,” he said.
She almost laughed at what he was suggesting. Could he give her a different life? A different past? Could he grant her a new job title and more opportunities and make the mess she faced with the Forest Service go away?
Too bad his words were empty. Too bad the things she wanted were really hard to get.
But she pushed all that down and slipped her hand in his. There was one thing he could give her.
“How about you as my boyfriend for the rest of the night?”