“Okay, first off, aren’t bartenders supposed to be like therapists? Hush hush with their client’s problems and not rubbing them in their faces?”
Kane ran his hand through his dark hair, flipped it to the other side, and then looked up in the direction of the television behind the bar. Women’s soccer was on. “Well, I’m not a bartender anymore, so now I don’t have to mind those rules.”
Alana frowned and sank onto the barstool next to him. “Did you get fired?”
Kane chuckled and shook his head. “I was only picking up extra shifts for money.”
“For what? I’ve seen your shit-shack. It can’t be that expensive,” she said with a wink.
“Who’s judgmental now?” At least Kane’s smile was more genuine. “I was earning money to help out a friend.” He cleared his throat and amended, “I mean an ally. It’s complicated. Spill your gravy story, and I’ll buy you a drink. I need some entertainment other than my team getting their asses kicked by Germany.” He dragged his attention from the television to her. “Deal?”
Alana looked longingly at the exit. She’d planned a long night of eating her weight in carbs, snarfing rocky road ice cream out of the carton, giving herself a pedicure, and then watching a rom-com in her baggiest, most unflattering pajamas. But maybe this was good, unloading to a stranger. Sure, she’d known Kane for a couple years. Everyone knew everyone in a small town, but the supposed dragon shifter with the deep limp on one side was a bit of a mystery to everyone. He was notorious for being a good listener, but also for never sharing a single thing about himself. So, in that regard, he really was a stranger.
“Fine. I want a Whiskey Sour, and I want extra maraschino cherries.”
Kane snorted but gave her order to the new bartender whose nametag read Bubba.
Drat’s was hopping tonight, but it was always busy on Thursday nights. To keep her story quiet, she scooted closer to Kane and lowered her voice. “I fell into like with a guy, but he and I come from two totally different worlds.”
Kane’s face remained blank of the shock she’d expected from him, and he slurped loudly on what looked like an Old Fashioned. She’d thought her Romeo and Juliet-esque love scandal would’ve earned her at least an impressed eyebrow raise, but nope.
So she continued. “He’s like you—”
“Wait, what do you mean like me?”
“A…you know…shifter.”
“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing,” he said in an odd tone.
“Yeah, I get that now, but it hasn’t stopped my feelings for him. Which don’t even matter because he freaked out and left my house after we…kissed…and it’s been two days, and he hasn’t called or stopped by my café, nothing. Just, no contact. He cold-turkey cut me off.”
“Oookay, what’s his name?” Kane asked, his voice gravelly.
“Aaron.”
Kane had been in the middle of stirring his ice with two tiny straws, but froze at the name. “Aaron Keller?”
Alana scrunched up her nose. “Yeah.”
Kane huffed a surprised sound and then gave a come-hither gesture with a flick of his fingertips to a man readying to break the balls on one of the pool tables.
“I’m not your dog, Blackwing. Ask me politely,” said the musclebound man with the bright blue eyes as he leaned forward to line up his shot.
Kane muttered, “Fuckin’ asshole,” then a little louder, “can you please come here and clear something up?”
The clack of the pool balls breaking was so loud and powerful, Alana jumped. And then the giant muttered something much too low for Alana to hear, kissed a dark-headed woman waiting her turn, shoved a red-headed titan in the shoulder playfully, and sauntered over toward them.
“Holy balls, he’s coming this way.” In a whisper-scream, Alana told Kane, “I’m not discussing my life with someone I’ve never met before!”
“Wyatt James of the Bloodrunner Crew, this is Alana Warren of the human variety.”
Wyatt’s eyebrows went up, and he muttered, “Oh, shit!” And then he shook her hand hard enough to rattle her teeth together. “Nice to meet you. Aaron’s told us about you.” He twisted his torso and whistled sharply at the others while Alana rubbed her sore hand.
“So Aaron is in your crew?” she asked.
Wyatt nodded. “Her crew, actually.” He jerked his chin at the pretty brunette who was approaching with an easy smile.
“Your crew?” she asked, stunned. She’d never heard of a female alpha, but one look at her eyes, and Alana had the feeling this woman was much more than she seemed. She had one soft brown human eye, and a blue dragon eye.
“Harper,” she introduced herself. Her hand was hot as lava when Alana touched her, so she made it a quick shake and then cooled her palm on the ice-filled Whiskey Sour Bubba had just set in front of her.
“I’m Alana,” she murmured, shocked at meeting Aaron’s crew without him. This should probably be awkward because of Aaron’s finger-bang-and-run, but it wasn’t.
“I’m Ryder,” the redheaded giant introduced himself. But instead of shaking her hand, he stood beside her and held out his phone in front of them. “Smile,” he directed. “We’re gonna make Aaron so jealous.”
She gave a smile she was pretty sure looked like a grimace, the phone clicked, and Ryder went to poking buttons on his phone.