Chapter 3
Chapter Three
SERENITY
Anticipation buzzed beneath my skin, like my veins were a can of soda and the contents had been shaken up, ready to explode. It was a warm, fizzy kind of excitement I hadn’t experienced in longer than I could remember, a thrill I thought was long since dead and buried.
I felt like a giddy schoolgirl in the cafeteria, psyching herself up to approach the captain of the football team, as I started across the bar in Hunter’s direction.
After all the men I’d conned: the ones with tan lines on their ring fingers, the ones who didn’t bother taking their rings off at all, or my personal favorite, the ones who lied about their wives being dead when the recon my family had done proved the missus was alive and well, I didn’t think it was possible to ever feel excitement about another man again.
But Hunter made me feel it in a very big way.
Since I started working at the Tap Room, I’d seen him come in a couple times a week.
We’d exchanged pleasantries, but it was all surface.
For weeks I’d been searching for an in, but so far I’d gotten nowhere.
Some of those nights he’d have a drink or two before heading home.
But it was the other nights that left stinging lashes against my skin.
The man was single and free to do whatever—or in his case, whomever—he pleased.
It wasn’t a regular occurrence—but it wasn’t exactly rare either—that, if a woman caught his eye, they’d end the night leaving the bar together after he picked up her tab.
Those nights sucked. The only certainty I’d discovered after studying his patterns was that the women he left with usually disappeared after only a couple of encounters.
He sat on one of the round stools in front of the long bar, a few of the guys I recognized from Alpha Omega, Bryce and Marco, standing around him.
As I grew closer, Bryce said something to Hunter, then chuckled and clapped him on the back before he and Marco took off, leaving him sitting alone.
At least until I summoned up the nerve it took to go the rest of the way.
I rested my hand on the back of the empty stool beside his. “This seat taken?”
Those ice blue eyes came to me, the shadows still present.
“Hey, Wildcat,” he greeted, using the term he and the rest of the guys at Alpha Omega had christened me with after my and Stella’s kidnapping.
They’d stormed into the warehouse to save Stella and me, only to find us beating the ever-loving shit out of the man who’d organized the entire abduction.
While we were taking care of him, the guys were outside, taking care of the jerk’s hired guns.
We’d been like two feral animals, tearing at the son of a bitch. Wild cats. It was a name well deserved and one I’d gladly wear like a badge of honor, because that meant I was a fighter. I was a wildcat. I could live with that, for sure.
He jerked his head toward the stool. “Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
I did just that, trying my best not to look too eager as I hopped into place. I watched from the corner of my eye as he brought the pint glass to his lips and drank the last of the beer inside.
Just then, one of the Tap Room’s bartenders, a pretty, young brunette by the name of Mona, spoke up, drawing my focus away from the man beside me. She was sweet and bubbly, and I always had fun with her on the nights we shared the same shift. “Hey, lady. What can I get you?”
I started to push myself up, suddenly feeling strange at the thought of being waited on by one of my own co-workers. “Oh, I can get—”
She rolled her eyes and cut me off. “Please, it’s your sister’s engagement party. Don’t you dare step foot behind this bar. It’s your night off.”
I smiled over at her, her kindness a gift she didn’t even realize she was giving. I’d been seriously lacking when it came to girlfriends in my old life. It was nice to finally have people to talk to who weren’t related to me by blood.
“Glass of red wine, please. Whatever bottle of Cab you have open back there is fine.” The Tap Room might have been famous for their beer, but that didn’t mean they skimped on anything else.
It turned out that Rory didn’t just run the Tap Room, she owned it.
It had been in her family for quite some time, and she’d inherited it from her folks when they retired a few years back.
Only, they still came in on a regular basis to help out since Rory and her husband, Cord, had also started a group home for foster and at-risk kids called Hope House.
Those two had their plates incredibly full, but it was with so many incredible, kind-hearted things.
To say I admired the hell out of the Paulsons would have been putting it mildly.
They were good people. In fact, nearly everyone I’d met in Hope Valley over the past few weeks were good people.
To the point it was giving me a bit of a complex.
I wanted to belong, to be as good as all these people.
I wanted to wash myself clean of the past and I was determined to do everything in my power to make that happen.
Mona looked at Hunter then, the apples of her cheeks growing pink as she asked, “Would you like a refill?” I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh.
I felt for the girl, honestly. I understood that blush all too well.
His potent brand of handsome was intoxicating for women of any age, even those a good fifteen years younger than he was.
He responded in the affirmative by grunting and pushing his empty glass in her direction.
I waited until Mona had brought my wine and Hunter’s fresh beer before I spoke again. “Not a big fan of engagement parties?”
He let out another grunt as he lifted the pint to his lips. “That’s putting it mildly,” he muttered around the rim of the glass before taking a pull, some unidentifiable meaning hidden beneath those words.
He wasn’t really giving me much to work with, but I was determined, so I pushed onward.
“I’m sure West and Stella wouldn’t mind if you bailed early.
” I looked toward the dance floor where the two of them were still practically glued together, looking dreamily into each other’s eyes as they swayed to the music.
It would have been nauseating if I wasn’t so damn happy for them.
“I’m not sure they’d even notice if the whole bar cleared out. ”
He let out a sound that was a mix of a chuckle and a huff and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine. Gotta drink somewhere, right?”
“True enough.” Speaking of drinks, I lifted my wineglass and sucked back half the contents in an effort to embolden myself before I hopped off the stool, and ordered, “Come on.”
He looked at me, his dark, heavy brow furrowed. “What?”
“If engagement parties aren’t your jam, let’s go play pool. Then you’re just a guy hanging at the bar and it’s no longer about the reason you’re here.”
One corner of his mouth trembled, like he was suppressing a grin, and I was hit with a sense of determination; I was going to pull a grin from him, a real grin, if it was the last thing I did. “It’s that easy, huh?”
I smiled brightly, leaning over to bump his shoulder with mine. “Yep. It’s that easy. And hey, maybe I’ll even take pity on you and let you win a game or two. You know, for your pride.”
Hunter McCann might have been the strong silent type, but I knew every breed of man there was, and they all had one thing in common.
They could never back down from a challenge.
Just as I’d hoped, Hunter took the bait just like the rest of them. “You’ll let me win?”
I hummed and tapping my chin. “If I’m feeling charitable.”
He turned his head, looking toward the back of the bar at the rows of pool tables. The alcove was surprisingly empty, except for Fletcher, the eighteen-year-old kid Rory had recently hired, who was clearing out empty bottles and glasses before wiping the tables down.
Looking back at me, Hunter rose from his stool, those eyes like a frozen-over winter lake shimmering with determination. “All right. Bring it, Wildcat. But I don’t want to hear you whine when I kick your ass.”
I threw my head back on a belly laugh. “Oh, honey. I’m not the one who’ll be whining by the end of the night.”
I eased the pool cue back, testing the weight and feel of it, the smooth wood gliding between my fingers as I braced for the break.
Hunter stood at the other end of the table, the butt of his pool cue braced on the ground, his long, thick fingers knotted around the other end as he watched me closely.
A grin teased at my lips; this was going to be fun.
I shot him a wink that had him shaking his head good naturedly, then, a second later, I sent the cue ball sailing across the table.
The crack rang out as it collided with the one, sending the rest of the balls flying.
The twelve ball sank into the left corner pocket with a satisfying thud.
“Looks like you’re solids,” I stated as I straightened and moved around the table, looking for my next shot.
“Lucky shot,” he muttered, but I could hear the underlying humor in his tone.
I narrowed my eyes in a quick glare before leaning back over the table. The way the balls were laid out, shooting with my dominant right hand would have been a little tricky, so I quickly switched to my left, lined up my shot, and sent my ball into the right side pocket.
He shook his head in disbelief, the corner of his mouth giving another tremble. I was getting closer. I could feel it.
“Luck has nothing to do with it. You know my family. A line of con artists and grifters as long as ours, we can hustle at pretty much anything.” I gave him my most doe-eyed smile, the one I used every time I hustled someone at pool or poker.
“If we were playing cards, I’d own your house and your car by now. ”
I was gearing up for my next shot when he chuckled, and the unexpected shock at hearing that deep, husky sound had me shooting wide and missing my ball entirely.
I looked up to find the tiniest smirk possible tugging at his mouth.
Somehow that teeny, barely-there curve of his lips was sexier than any smile from any other man on the planet.
Unfortunately, it was gone so fast that, had I not caught it when I did, I might have thought it was just a figment of my imagination.
He moved around the table like he hadn’t just let a flicker of emotion pass through the walls he seemed to keep firmly in place.
I shook it off and headed for the small high-top table in the corner where we’d put our drinks.
I sipped my wine as he rounded the pool table, looking for a move.
I noticed the slightest hitch in his gate as he moved, something that a normal person who hadn’t been trained to read expressions and body language as a job would have missed completely, but was more focused on ogling.
My gaze traveled down slowly, taking him in while I had an unobstructed view and a chance to stare without being obvious.
His jeans looked faded and soft, like they’d been washed a million times.
They hugged a firm round behind that was downright biteable, and strong, tree-trunk thighs.
His button-down encased powerful arms, a wide chest, and broad shoulders.
He radiated power with every move, every breath.
It was a beautiful thing to watch. I never would have thought I’d use the word beautiful to describe a man like Hunter, someone so rugged and manly, but that’s what he was to me.
He took his shot, sinking one of the solid-colored balls into the pocket. He gave me a smug look before moving on and sinking his next shot.
“Not bad,” I said with a grin as he lined up his next move. “You’re good. But I’m better.”
He gazed up at me from his bent position, one brow cocking. “That so?”
“Yep,” I answered with all the confidence in the world.
“Care to put some money on that?”
I shook my head on a chuckle. “Sorry, honey. I can’t take your money like that.”
He missed and I moved back to the table to take his place. “I noticed you’ve been hired on here. Stella said you were making the move to Hope Valley permanent. How’s the town treating you?”
I lifted my eyes after by ball slid into its pocket with a thud.
If I hadn’t been damn good at this game, the shock at the number of words that just passed his lips might have caused me to miss.
“Well, holy shit. Did Hunter McCann just initiate a conversation? Quick! Look out the window and tell me if the sky is falling, would you?”
He rolled his eyes and took a pull from his beer. “Just take your shot already, smart-ass.”
I did, sinking another ball as I began to explain, “Hope Valley’s been great so far. Rory’s an amazing boss and the people are a lot nicer than I’m used to.”
I could feel his probing gaze as I studied the table for my next play. “People weren’t nice to you in the city?”
I let out a breath, took my shot, and missed. I stood tall, sending up a silent curse at missing such an easy move. When I lifted my eyes, Hunter’s gaze was firmly on me, as though he were waiting for a response before he carried on with the game.
“It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, exactly.”
“Then what was it?” he pressed.
“Well, I just . . . I couldn’t exactly let people in, given what my family did, you know? Not that many would want in,” I added on a grumble.
“Did you like what you did?”
My chin jerked back at the question. It wasn’t something many people asked. They’d form their own conclusions, but they didn’t come right out and ask, especially so bluntly.
“You’re asking if I liked letting gross, cheating assholes feel up on me while I played at wanting them in order to steal from them?”
His expression remained completely neutral. “That’s what I asked, yeah.”
“No,” I said flatly. “I freaking hated it. Best thing to ever happen was West falling for Stella. It didn’t just get her out of the life, it got all of us out. Some people might not think waiting tables at the local watering hole is glamorous, but this is the best job I’ve ever had.”
He didn’t say a word as he bent back toward the table and resumed the game, the expressionless mask he wore never once budging.
Finally, after sinking his next two shots, he looked up at me.
“As far as those people not wanting in are concerned, fuck ’em.
You did what you did for your family. Anyone who doesn’t get that isn’t worth your time.
And this job’s honest work. Not a damn thing wrong with that. ”
“Nope, not a thing,” I said with a smile.
The man might not give a single thing away, but at least he seemed to understand me. And that was more than I could ask from most people.