Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
She glanced down. “Very much so.” Taking the basket, she made sure they all still had enough water. “I’ll let my chef know you appreciate his work.” Rudolph would be ticked to be called a chef and not the cook.
“Thank you. Your fiancé is a lucky man,” Peter said, ruffling a hand through his blondish-gray hair.
Right now her fiancé was wondering what the heck was going on with her head. She needed to tell him the truth but hadn’t quite figured out how. “Thanks.” She turned and walked into the kitchen to see Rudolph cleaning the back grill. “The tourists love your food.” Heat rolled over her instantly, thick with garlic and grilled halibut.
Rudolph looked up, sweat on his wide forehead. He’d worked at the tavern for as long as anyone remembered, even before Amka bought it, and he liked things done his way. “Good.”
“Hey, have you had enough water today?” she asked.
“Stop nagging me, woman.” Rudolph was broad-chested, all muscle, and a good three hundred pounds. His black hair was gray at the temples but he moved like a much younger man. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
She had already double-checked that he’d taken his blood pressure pills before the lunch rush started. “I know you’re healthy, but the doctor said you need to hydrate better.”
Rudolph grabbed a towel and tossed it at her without turning.
She caught it easily. “Dork,” she said, backing out.
“You’re the dork,” he called as she pushed the door closed.
She turned back toward the bar—and stopped.
Christian sat across from her on the far stool, elbows resting on the polished wood like he’d always been there.
Her pulse skipped.
Where did he come from? How did he do that? The man moved like fog. She glanced toward the front door. No bell had rung.
“Hi,” she said, and hated how shy she sounded.
“Hi.” His mismatched eyes—one deep green, the other black—focused on her in that steady way that made everything else fall out of frame. He didn’t smile, but his expression was softer than usual. “How was the lunch rush?”
“It was good.” She moved behind the bar, wanting something to do with her hands, and began stacking the glasses. She had about fifteen minutes before she needed to meet May. “I’m having a late lunch with the doc.”
“Oh.” One eyebrow lifted. “I think she needs to speak with you.”
“Well, obviously.” Amka rolled her eyes lightly, but heat crept up her neck. “Believe me, I noticed she and Ace didn’t make it downtown last night. I assume they maybe got together?”
Christian lifted one shoulder. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Of course. He could be a brick wall when he wanted.
“You saw Ace today?” she asked.
“Yeah. I took him to the plane.”
Her stomach tightened. “Ooh. How’d that go?”
“He didn’t puke.”
She let out a breath. The breeze slipped through the open windows again, stirring the edge of a cocktail napkin near her hand. “Sometimes that’s a good marker.”
Christian watched her. “So,” he said evenly, “are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?”
There it was.
Amka studied him. He’d come straight from somewhere outdoors. There was sawdust on his boots and a faint smear of dirt across his forearm. His shoulders looked heavier than usual, tension sitting there like it had claimed territory. “Yeah,” she said finally. “Why don’t we go into the back room?”
No expression crossed his rugged face. “All right.” He slid off the stool and walked around the bar without another word, one hand resting briefly at her lower back as he gestured her ahead of him. The contact was warm and steady.
She led him past the kitchen door into the back room she had carved out for the in-between moments. A twin bed rested against one wall with a thick quilt folded neatly at the foot, and a soft lamp glowed in the corner beside a small table and two mismatched chairs. The attached bathroom was tucked off to the side. She had decorated the space in bold colors, draping woven blankets from her grandmother over the chair backs and pinning bright art along the walls, including two photographs captured by May. One featured a sunset over the mountains, and the other a salmon swimming upstream.
Near the back door sat an enormous lost-and-found basket that was already half full with hats, scarves, a single boot, and a phone charger that was abandoned months ago.
She closed the door behind them. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air felt different in here. Her heart thudded harder than it should.
His presence overwhelmed the space like always. Christian Osprey had a way about him. The room felt smaller with him in it, warmer, like the air bent toward him.
Amka swallowed and then walked a few feet away to get some space between them before turning to face him. The woven rug muffled her steps. He watched her, steady and unreadable, but didn’t say anything.