Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (26)

“Sure.” The single word was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I wasn’t sure how I’d react to people talking about all the losses in their lives. But Cora was reaching out, and I wanted to meet her halfway.

“Good,” Cora said quietly as her gaze met mine. “And thank you. I’m not sure many people would be able to manage the kindness you have. It just shows how incredibly strong you are.”

I took those words to heart, letting them settle in and become a balm to the wounds I didn’t show anyone. “Thanks for letting me.”

We didn’t say anything else, just sat there in the silence for a moment before rising to head back out to the bar. As we stepped out of the office, Wylder was there, waiting.

His gaze flicked to me. “Can you handle the bar for a minute?”

I knew he wanted to check on Cora himself, make sure she was okay. I shot him as much of a grin as I could manage. “As long as no one orders a crazy cocktail like a Harvey Wallbanger.”

Wylder’s lips twitched. “That’s basically just vodka and orange juice.”

My grin came a little more naturally now. “Then I guess I’ve got it handled.”

I headed back out to the main area, which was already a little more crowded, and moved straight to behind the bar just as a familiar face headed my way.

Those hazel irises, a study in dark and light, locked on me, making my heart do some sort of stutter step. My doctor in the hospital had told me to be aware of heart palpitations because of the strain my heart had been under due to the conditions of my captivity. But I didn’t think these had anything to do with that.

Kol was dressed in his Forest Service uniform—something I hadn’t seen him in all that often. But he wore the hell out of it. The dark-green pants and tan shirt shouldn’t have had me almost drooling, but they definitely did.

Kol’s thick thighs strained against the dark-green pants as he crossed the bar. His shoulders looked impossibly broad in the tan fabric of his shirt. And the uniform gave him an air of authority.

He slid onto a stool in front of me. “Working the bar?”

“Wylder needed a minute.” My voice sounded almost hoarse, and Kol’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“You okay?”

“All good, Boss.” I straightened my shoulders. “You know what you want, or do you need a menu and a minute?”

One corner of Kol’s mouth kicked up. “It’s my brother’s bar. I know the menu.”

“Then tell me what you want, smartass,” I challenged.

That dark-brown scruff around his mouth twitched. “I’ll take the cheeseburger, medium. Add avocado and onion straws. And a Coke.”

“What kind of fries or salad?”

“Steak fries.”

That fit. The manliest kind of fries on the menu.

I scribbled the order on my pad and stuck it on the wheel in the open pass-through window. “Order for Kol, Fee.”

She grinned at me from the griddle. “Tell that troublemaker I’m gonna put some hot sauce on it for him.”

I sent her a salute, turning back to Kol. “Fee said she’s putting hot sauce on your burger.”

“She always treats me right,” Kol said, his voice rumbling in something as close to a chuckle as I’d heard from him.

Why did that have jealousy rising? Fiona was old enough to be Kol’s mother, yet the thought that they shared knowledge about each other that I didn’t stung. It was ridiculous.

Piper elbowed up to the waitstaff end of the bar. “Two Aspen Ales and a Diet Coke.”

I moved to grab her drinks as more people slid onto stools, hoping to take advantage of the happy-hour specials.

Wylder appeared at my back, shooting Kol a grin. “My second most antisocial brother is becoming a regular. Love to see it.”

Kol scowled at him as I slid the last drink onto Piper’s tray.

“I’m hungry,” Kol grumbled.

“Mm-hmm,” Wylder hummed.

Kol flipped him off, which only made Wylder laugh. Then my boss turned to me. “Want to handle the diners behind the bar, and I’ll do drinks?”

“You got it,” I said, moving down the bar to where a new face sat.

The man looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Everything about him read hipster, from the mustard beanie and black-framed glasses to the flannel and blond beard.

I grabbed a menu and slid it across the bar. “Welcome to the Boot. Can I get you something to drink while you look at the menu?”

He shot me a grin that revealed two dimples. They made him look younger, almost boyish, and had his light-blue eyes twinkling. “You got any local ales?”

“More than I can count,” I said, gesturing to a skinny chalkboard to my left. “I’ll just need to see some ID.”

The man shifted on his stool and pulled out his wallet as he studied the menu. “Got a personal fave?”

I quickly scanned his driver’s license; Reese Gatlin was twenty-nine and from Michigan. “I like the Fall Creek Ale. But the Aspen is also a local favorite.”

I’d done a tasting to familiarize myself with our menu, and I was glad I had.

“Let’s go with your number-one favorite,” Reese said, putting his license back in his wallet.

I grabbed a pint glass and lowered the tap, tipping the glass at an angle. “Far from home. You on vacation?”