CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE FOOD SUCKED. Another thing he'd address once he got all the legalities out of the way. Not that he'd expected much from the bar, at least not in the way of food.

Leaving the dry crust of the meager sandwich on his plate, Rowdy finished off a pickle, the last chip and turned on the stool, elbows back on the bar, to peruse the room. Right now, it wasn't that busy. But he knew, despite the lack of ambience and finer amenities, they'd soon have a crowd that would stay 'til closing.

Hard-core drinkers liked a dive as much as, sometimes more than, an upscale joint.

Once he took over, he'd keep it casual, Rowdy thought.

At fifteen-hundred square feet, the building had enough room to add a few things, like billiards and a jukebox, especially once he got rid of the pole dancing. He'd offer the ladies, all three of them part-time, full- time positions instead. Once fixed up, the parking area would be big enough for eighteen cars. The adjoining parking lot, with another twenty spots, had proposed a reasonable agreement for usage.

He planned to offer affordable drinks with a limited but fresh menu. A variety of sandwiches, maybe chili, a soup of the day, fries.

Few came for the food.

But if he opened earlier in the day, that could change. And why not? He'd already looked into the liquor license.

Might as well ensure he had a food permit, as well.

First he'd have to pass the background check that came with the liquor license.

The idea of someone poking around in his private life, even in a cursory way, sent itchy alarms down his neck. He had nothing to hide-nothing, that is, that should prevent him from keeping the license.

Rather than continue stewing on things he couldn't change, Rowdy searched the room until he spotted Avery. Far as distractions went, she was perfect. He watched her and knew she made a point of not looking at him.

Too bad.

He didn't want to go home alone. Not tonight.

Some nights were just like that.

Restlessness gnawed on him, amplified by old memories. He needed to be busy, but right now he had nothing more to do. Unfortunately, doing nothing alone was not the same as doing nothing with someone.

Anyone.

But preferably Avery.

She strode past him on her way to the kitchen. Rowdy stopped her with a hand on her arm. And just that, such an impersonal touch, sparked a fire inside him. He stayed silent, enjoying the feel of her smooth warm skin.

The skin of her...arm. God, he needed to get laid.

Pausing, she looked at his hand, then up to his face. "How was your sandwich?"

"Stale bread."

"I'm not surprised. Our so-called cook doesn't know his butt from a biscuit."

She leaned closer. "He's not all that conscientious about cleaning either."

The whispered words sent her breath warm across his ear.

A shudder ran over him. He couldn't wait to feel her breath in other, more interesting places. "When I take over, that'll change."

She leaned away to scrutinize him. "So you're serious about that?"

"Already have it in the works." As long as he passed the background check.

"I'm serious about you being the bartender, too."

She chewed the corner of her mouth, considering him, then surprised him by dragging him away from the bar and toward a corner table.

He went willingly, curious what she'd do, what she had to say.

With privacy assured, she turned to face him. "In most places, the bartender is the most coveted job. So why me?"

Suspicion? He supposed she had reason. "You're competent."

"You barely know me."

But I want you. Rowdy shook his head. "I'm a good judge of character."

And she had character in spades.

"Bartending isn't easy. Other than the financial management, it's the most important job, so don't think I'm doing you a huge favor."

"I'm aware." She held up a hand and ticked off points on her fingers. "You stand for hours on end. You get hit on in rapid succession, with the pushiest, most determined men also being the most inebriated. Drugs are rampant behind the bar. You have to have a great memory.

You-"

He put a finger to her mouth-and somehow felt the touch in his dick.

Thinking of her mouth and his dick at the same time left him muddled. He had it bad.

Shaking his head, Rowdy tried to clear the lust. "Back up to the drugs."

Somewhat dazed, her plump lips still pressed to his finger, she stared up at him.

Maybe now would be a good time to kiss her again. Keeping her gaze locked with his, he eased closer.

Suddenly she blinked hard, drew two breaths and took a step back so that his hand fell away. "You didn't know?"

A lost opportunity. He never should have hesitated.

"About the drugs?" Sure, he suspected.

Drugs were a problem everywhere, in every bar. But specifically here? He didn't doubt it. "Enlighten me."

Instead, she pursed her mouth. "I don't think so. You aren't the owner yet, and I don't want to cause a firestorm and then get stuck in the middle of it."

"See, this is why you'll make a great bartender. You're circumspect."

"I'm not an idiot," she corrected.

Rowdy eyed her sedate clothing and approved. "As to getting hit on, I doubt most bartenders have to worry about that." Avery, with her petite figure and that sweet face, would have her hands full fending off the drunks. "It's nice that you dress in a way to discourage the hopeful."

"You included?"

He ignored that. Damn it, he was hopeful. "And I assume you can learn the job?"

"Already know it inside and out."

Fascinating. "I take it you've worked as a bartender before?"

"Last job, yep. And I tried to get the job here, but instead I ended up the barback."

"Barback?"

"You know, the one who stocks the bar, keeps the ice bin filled, cuts up the fruit and garnishes, cleans the glasses...."

"I know what it is." But it surprised him that she'd been hired for the position.

"For this place," she added, "the barback also needed to supply protection for the bartender." She lifted her shoulders. "I fell short in that category, so within three days I was told I had to waitress, which for the others also includes dancing that stupid pole. I refused that part, but I'm more competent than the others, so it's allowed."

Disbelief slammed into Rowdy.

Someone had expected her to play bodyguard? Asinine. "What happened?"

"Which part?"

He growled his frustration. "The part where you fell short as protection." He already knew Avery wouldn't be caught sliding around on a pole for the delectation of drunks.

She hesitated some more. "How do I know this won't go any farther?"

"You can have my word, if that counts for anything."

For what felt like a lifetime, she studied his face. Rowdy resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in irritation. He was many things, most of them shady as shit.

But he wasn't a liar.

Finally she nodded. "The drugs I mentioned? Well, some big guy-I think probably a supplier-came in on my third night, and he was really furious about something. Looked like he'd already gone up against a Mack truck, and he had his sights set on Dougie."

"That's the bartender here now, right?" Rowdy was familiar with the wiry, hyper guy usually serving up drinks. He had dark, thick hair held in a stubby ponytail, and sported a stud in one ear. Despite the foulness of the bar and the sketchy clientele, he smiled a lot.

"None other."

"Someone came after him?"

"With a switchblade."

Avery shuddered. "And I was supposed to look out for him."

The constriction of rage and concern had Rowdy straightening to his full height. "Some dumb fuck actually expected you to go up against a blade?"

The language filled her blue eyes with censure. "Obviously I'm not physically equipped for a conflict like that."

"You're not equipped for a conflict with a pillow!" She was small and soft and- Cutting off his observation, she said, "So I called 911." Her mouth flattened.

"Big mistake."

The concern continued to throb inside him. "You didn't get hurt?"

"I almost got fired!"

From this dive? Big frickin' deal.

Might've been doing her a favor. Except then he wouldn't have met her, and now, having met her, he needed to have her. "I take it cops are unwelcome."

"Very much so-because of the drugs as much as anything else." She rubbed at her temples. "Dougie didn't get hurt too much. A cut on his arm that required some stitches. Once I yelled that the cops were coming, the guy took off."

"Thank God." If the dude had turned his rage on Avery instead, they might not be here talking now. "Does he still come around?"

"The knife wielder?

No.

Disappeared." She gave him another look. "You should really find out more about the inner workings here before you tie yourself to this place. I have a feeling that once you stop the drugs..." She fumbled midsentence, staring at him with those big blue eyes the color of the sky.

"That is...you would put a halt to that, wouldn't you?"

A tendril of her silky red hair drew his fingers. He toyed with it.

He wanted to toy with her. In bed.

"Count on it." He would run a legit business even if it killed him. He didn't particularly want to give the cops a reason to hang around either.

Avery slumped in relief. "Then I'm glad you plan to take over. And if you want me to bartend, count me in. I'd be more than happy to quit my second job."

"Second job?"

"You didn't think I supported myself working here, did you?"

There was a lot he didn't know about Avery Mullins-but he wanted to find out.

"I'm better than Dougie, and more honest, so I'll expect a raise over what he makes. But I don't need a barback, so you'd still be ahead."