“I wasn’t in the mood for a cocktail, and Juke wanted coffee.”
Juke made another noise that sounded a lot like “Fuck off.”
Ty hooked an eyebrow and called out, “Bud Light is fine.”
Dak said nothing. Just grabbed a frosty mug from beneath the bar, slung it beneath the tap, and filled it. He didn’t even bother to let the foam settle. Just slapped it down kind of rudely in front of Ty and said, “Start a tab?”
“Nah.” Ty pulled out his wallet and tossed a five onto the bar. “I think one here will be enough.”
The foam dissolved, leaving it only three-fourths full. I tossed Dak a glare, but he didn’t see it because he was too busy being an asshole and keeping his back to us.
“Jeez, tough bar,” Ty joked, taking a slug of his drink and smiling like he hadn’t just been cheated out of some decent beer. Or what was considered good beer by my family. Bud Light was for special occasions—otherwise it was PBR or Busch.
“Y’all datin’ or somethin’？” Juke asked, sipping his coffee and making a face.
“Yeah,” Ty said.
“Not really,” I said at the same time as Ty.
I may have blushed a little and tried to cover it by taking a big gulp of my coffee. Ty Walker and I were not dating. Okay, so maybe this could be considered our first date since we weren’t standing in Printemps discussing carpets or paintings from Scandinavian auction houses. But as first dates go, this one blew. “We’re going to Gritz and Glitz together in a few weeks.”
“Gritz and what?” Juke asked.
Ty caught my eye, looking extraordinarily pleased at my statement. So I guess I had just agreed to go to the stupid gala with him.
“It’s a benefit,” I clarified, staring at Dak’s broad back even though I didn’t want to. My eyes kept wandering toward him, like they had never gotten the memo that I was totally over him. “To raise money for charity and stuff.”
“That’s a weird name for it.” Juke shrugged and trained his eyes on the bottles of whiskey seductively reflecting the bar light. My eager-to-catch-a-new-case cousin had fled, to be replaced by a man who likely needed rehab, if the way he couldn’t rip his gaze from the mirrored shelves was any indication.
At that moment I wondered what the hell I was doing there. This was my biggest weakness—trying to fix things like I was the righter of wrongs. I had no business tying on my Supergirl cape and sobering up Juke, helping my boss, or sitting my dumb ass in the bar of the man who still made me twitchy. After all, I had been trying to cut ties with my family, and in the course of a week, I had called on both Griffin and Juke to help me. Really . . . what the hell was wrong with me?
My mission to better myself, look for new opportunities, and afford a down payment on a house far from my family compound was being jeopardized by my stupid inability to keep my nose out of other people’s business.
I reached down and patted the large canvas bag I had stitched out of an old sari I had found at Goodwill. The crumpled application was inside, and I had already told Juke what I knew about Cricket and her douche of a husband. It was time to bounce. Only problem was, now Ty Walker sat on a shiny stool, sipping a half-full beer, looking as out of place as a debutante at a dirt bike race.
Juke downed the rest of his coffee. “You know, I’m gonna hit the road. You sobered me up sufficiently. Tell your girl to give me a shout when she’s ready.”
Well, it wasn’t like my cousin was going to be a brilliant conversationalist anyway. “Sure.”
The stool made a horrendous shriek of protest when Juke pushed back from the bar. He tossed a ten on the counter and hitched up his jeans, which were saggy, and not in a cool way. “Tell Shirl to keep the change. Maybe she’ll be nicer to me next time.”
“Okay. Bye, Juke.”
Ty leaned back. “Hey, nice to meet you.”
Juke jerked his head toward Ty and then laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you, Roo. Thanks for, uh, the coffee.”
I knew his gratitude wasn’t about the coffee—after all, he’d just paid for it—but I could hear it in his voice. He was barely treading water, and I hadn’t exactly tossed him a preserver. But I had at least acknowledged his struggle.
Ty had leaned forward, cupping his beer and staring at the scores scrolling across one of the television sets, giving me privacy. As much privacy as one can give when sitting elbows to ass next to someone at a bar. But at Juke’s departure, he turned his full attention on me. “What was that about?”