Chapter 27
LEVI
Timberline is a smidge bit louder tonight than I prefer. Obnoxious laughter and drunken shouting spill from a table near the dartboards. Resin pool balls crack together behind me as blue-collar workers place bets on their games. The scent of fried food and beer hangs thick in the air.
The waitress weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing more plates and cups with one arm than any person should be able to.
Wes catches her eye from behind the bar and silently points toward a new group of patrons that just walked in.
She nods once before emptying her tray and changing course.
They’ve been doing this song and dance for years.
Most of the residents of Evergreen Falls come here to unwind after a long week of hard work, and soon, Timberline will be overrun with tourists.
I’m here because Santiago sent me a text.
Santiago: Timberline. Twenty minutes.
Now there’s a man who works hard but also plays hard.
Recently, my “playtime” has consisted of daydreaming about Blake Jennings. The problem is that I’m always thinking of her. When I’m working, when I’m sleeping. She more than haunts my thoughts.
She consumes them.
And I’d be lying if I said I wanted it to stop.
The label on my beer is half destroyed when I glance at the entrance for the sixth time. On the seventh, the door swings open, and relief slumps my shoulders, but then confusion has my spine straightening.
Santiago walks inside, and his eyes find me quickly. When he strides for me, I notice that Blake trails behind, followed by Walker.
When I get a good look at her, my mouth practically waters. A fitted cropped top has her breasts ready to spill free. Part of me wishes it would happen, but then I’d have to kill every person in here for getting a glimpse at her tits.
I force my gaze back to her face.
I last all of three seconds before I fail spectacularly and settle my eyes back on her chest.
Suddenly, I’m grateful she’s wearing a cardigan.
They each take a seat at the square table I saved for us. Santiago pulls out a chair for Blake, placing her on my right, Walker takes up the seat on my left, and Santiago sits down opposite me.
Walker removes his coat, placing it on the back of his chair, and the other two do the same, except Blake just has a cardigan.
Where’s her jacket?
It’s below twenty degrees outside.
Did Santiago forget her coat or did Blake?
The waitress stops by, knowing our usual, and places a beer in front of Santiago and Walker. “The same for you?” she questions Blake.
“Sure,” Blake answers compliantly.
“Wait,” I say to the waitress, then turn to Blake. “Have you eaten?”
Blake raises her eyebrows as if I just dumped a load of audacity in her lap. “I’m capable of feeding myself, thank you. I’ve been doing it for decades.”
I give her a look and reply, “I know, but humor me.”
Blake’s stomach chooses that moment to let out a grumble comparable to that of a mama bear whose cubs are being threatened.
After shooting Blake a smug smirk, I place a large food order. I’m not sure what Blake prefers besides French toast, so I play it safe and order most of the menu.
The waitress nods and heads to relay the massive order to the kitchen.
“Nice of you to finally join me,” I direct to Santiago and Walker. “Are your phones broken?”
Walker’s face remains blank. “No.”
Santiago pulls his from his pocket and taps on the screen. “Mine seems to be fine.”
I shrug, gesturing to Santiago and Walker. “And neither of you thought to let me know you’d be late?”
“I got held up at the station,” Walker defends himself.
Santiago points a thumb to his left and flashes an infuriating grin. “I was picking up Blake.”
Blake crosses her arms and leans forward. “Kidnapping Blake,” she remedies for him.
Santiago tilts his head from side to side and takes a sip from the dark bottle. “Semantics.”
Blake’s nostrils flare, then she turns to Walker. “I’d like to report a crime, Sheriff. Your deputy has forced me here against my will.”
Walker looks her dead in the eye, takes a chug of his drink, and answers smartly, “You’ll live.”
A laugh bursts from Santiago and me at the way her face grows scarlet, and a small smile tugs on Walker’s mouth as he takes another drink.
Blake’s eyes turn cold as she points a stern finger at each of us. “You three are on my shit list.”
Holding up my hands innocently, I proffer, “I have French fries coming. Is that enough to get me off the list?”
Blake glares. “It’s going to take more than French fries, Levi Harding.”
“Cheeseburger?” I add.
Her glare softens. “Closer.”
“I’ll take it,” I say with a smile.
The waitress returns carrying the food, setting down a basket of fries, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, soft pretzel bites, nachos, cheeseburgers, and beers. The smell of grilled onions and fresh-cut potatoes replaces the lingering scent of earthy fermentation for a moment.
Blake snatches a fry and an onion ring before anyone else has a chance to touch them. She munches away, then gives the three of us a flustered glance.
“Why am I the only one eating?” she questions as her eyebrows form a deep, puzzled crease. “Here,” Blake offers as she hands me a soft pretzel.
“I’ll wait,” I answer with polite refusal.
“Is it because I touched it?” Blake frowns at the food she tried to feed me. “Do you think I have cooties or something?”
Santiago snorts, and Walker just shakes his head.
“No, Blake. I’m making sure you eat first.”
Even under the neon beer signs and dim fluorescent lights, I track how her cheeks color with an abashed hue.
Beautiful.
Santiago’s hand hovers above the untouched mozzarella sticks, and I give him a look that promises pain if he picks one up.
He lets out an annoyed huff. “Seriously?”
Walker shrugs apathetically. “Apparently.”
Santiago nudges the fries closer to Blake, and Walker quietly reaches across the table and places the ketchup next to the fries. Sheepishly, she takes the bottle and squirts out a blob, eating the small mound without another word, and a stream of pride has me ready to puff up my chest.
I don’t like that she isn’t used to having someone take care of her. Granted, I know that when Santiago, Walker, and I are together, we can come off as intimidating. But we’ve always taken care of her. The dynamics of our relationship have shifted, but she should still expect us to care.
For the last several years, seeing Blake was something I imagined would happen at some point. I just never imagined she’d be sitting beside me, snacking on bar food, bantering with Santiago, and arguing with Walker like she was always meant to.
The conversation settles into something easy for a few minutes. The kind of conversation that makes you forget about dead bodies, stalkers, and everything else waiting for us outside Timberline’s walls.
A microphone squeals through the speakers, cutting across the chatter throughout the bar.
“Easy there,” Wes calls out to the person messing with a wad of cables and cords from his spot toward the front of the space, adjusting the stand to a taller height. Once he has the setup ready, he saunters to my side. “Hey, Harding—”
“Not tonight, Wes,” I interject swiftly.
He sighs, exaggerating his disgruntlement by moving like he’s a rag doll. “Don’t make me beg.”
Blake watches our interaction with an intense, keen awareness.
“I’m good tonight,” I state firmly.
“Come on, man…” Wes mopes.
Blake clears her throat, inserting herself into the exchange. “Excuse me, what’s going on? Why aren’t you willing to help Wes? He’s the keeper of the drinks.”
Santiago groans.
“This should be good,” Walker mutters into his beer.
Santiago implores me. “Don’t do it. Please.”
“Do what?” Blake’s lips twist as her head leans at an angle.
Wes tries to entice me with the promise of convenience. “I have an axe over there you can use.”
Blake tilts her body toward Santiago across the table. “Why does Levi need an axe?”
“I’ll do anything,” Wes begs. “Free beers for the table? All you have to do is—”
“I’ll be up there in a few.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it.
Wes pats me on the shoulder in appreciation and strolls away.
I wanted to enjoy myself tonight with a beer, some food, and friends. But it looks like I’m due for something else.
Actually…
Blake came here carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and for the first time all week, she’s taking a break.
Forced to take a break, but I’m not going to pass up this opportunity.
And if I can give her a reason to smile tonight, I’ll do it without a second thought.
Blake motions her hands, expressing her vexation. “This monkey in the middle thing we have going on here isn’t helping any of you get off my list.”
“Just give it a minute,” Walker says by way of explanation.
Blake groans in exasperation, rolling her eyes. “Give what a minute?”
Jumping to my feet, I tuck in my chair and plant an unexpected kiss on Blake’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Butterfly, but I’ll make it up to you.”
I leave Blake with her mouth hanging open as I head straight for the microphone and remove the guitar Wes pointed out from its case. Slinging the strap over my shoulder, I give each string a good pluck and tune the ones that sound off.
A quick glance shows me that Blake still gapes in my direction, and her forehead is wrinkled in surprise.
When I’m ready, I step up to the mic and tap on the grill. “This thing on?” My voice echoes through the bar and draws the attention of every single person, and the one woman I want to notice me isn’t looking anywhere else but me.
My introduction is announced to everyone, but I keep my eyes locked with a set of mocha-colored irises. “This is for a special someone.”
I easily fall into a rhythm, strumming my fingers across the strings and moving my other fingers over the fretboard. The tones that flow from my instrument perfectly complement the words and pitch I free from my soul.
The song is one of devotion—it’s a promise.
With every verse and chorus, I ask her to stay. It’s a big ask, I know, but I’ll always regret it if I don’t.