“I speak fluent dog and cat. It’s a vet thing.” He nodded, not cracking a smile. “My bird’s a little rusty, though.”
She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “When did you get here?”
Fisher stooped, picking up the rag and handing it to her. “I followed Ol’ Pete in.”
When she was having a minor panic attack. She nodded, working hard to pull herself together. The obvious concern on Fisher’s face surprised her. She didn’t like it. No one had ever worried over her. She didn’t need anyone to start now. “Beer?” she asked.
“Sounds good.” He was watching her—a little too closely for her liking.
She kept her eyes on his beer as she popped the top off a longneck and slid it across the counter toward him. “Good day, Doc?” she asked. Small talk was always a good distraction.
“No complaints.” He shrugged. “You?”
“Just starting,” she returned, flipping the switch that powered the wall of fluorescent beer and pool signs. The colored lights brightened the room and her mood.
The door opened to three women, chatting animatedly.
“Hey, Kylee.” Janet was the only one Kylee knew by name. “Looks like we beat the rush.”
“Can we have a round of beers?” one of the women asked, commandeering a table in front of the picture window that overlooked part of Stonewall Crossing’s Main Street. “Bottles,” she added.
“Please and thank you, Kylee.” Janet winked.
Kylee was already popping the tops and putting them up on the counter.
Janet turned to Fisher. “Hey, Fisher, how’s it going?”
From the way Janet got all giggly over Fisher’s easy grin, it was clear Janet thought he was cute. And maybe he did have a nice grin, but that didn’t amount to much. Kylee wasn’t sure what to make of the hulking veterinarian. He was a little too tall and a little too broad. And he was nice—too nice. It made her nervous.
“Saving the world, one shih tzu at a time.” Fisher saluted Janet with his beer.
“If I was single, Fisher Boone, I’d say you were the perfect man.” She shook her head, laughing. “All big and muscle-y and a tender heart.”
“That’s me—a lover not a fighter.”
Janet laughed. “You’re adorable.”
“I work hard at it,” Fisher shot back.
Kylee glanced at Fisher, amused in spite of herself. He bobbed his eyebrows at her, trying to include her in the joke. So he had a pleasant grin. And a sense of humor. But something about him set off warning bells. She ignored Fisher and said, “Janet, can you let your friend know we finally got that hard apple stuff she wanted to try.”
“My friend?” Janet asked.
Kylee nodded. “From last week?”
“Oh, that one.” Janet rolled her eyes. “You mean Winnie.”
Kylee shrugged. The only thing she remembered about the woman was the ass chewing she got for not having some hard cider drink. When Kylee ordered new stock, she made sure to get some. Cutter told her to make customers happy, plain and simple. She wasn’t about to argue with the man who’d turned her life around—even if the customer in question was a witch.
“She’s not really a friend. But she’s not exactly the type you want to make an enemy. When she wants to go out for a drink, you go.” Janet took the beers and headed back to the table. “But I’ll tell her.”
“Janet speaks the truth.” Fisher chuckled. “Beware Winnie Michaels.”
Kylee wiped out a few glasses, getting ready for the regular after-work crowd. “Anyone else I should beware of?” She glanced at him again, trying not to let the weight of his steady green eyes bother her.
The corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. That was another thing. He smiled a lot. Maybe too much.
“I’ll let you know,” he offered. “Got plans for the weekend?”
She shook her head once. She and Shawn were planning on painting their tiny apartment—Cutter was letting them rent the addition at the back of the bar until they found a “more suitable place.” As far as she and Shawn were concerned, it was perfectly suitable.
She did need to talk to Cutter about finding a resale shop. She wanted to get some bicycles so she and Shawn could explore. But none of that was any of Fisher’s business so she didn’t say a word.
“All that?” He set his beer on the counter. “Damn, Kylee. Sounds like you’ll wear yourself out.” He paused. “What am I doing? Working. But thanks for asking.”
She couldn’t stop the smile that slipped out.
“Ha, there it is.” Fisher raised his arms over his head. “We have a smile, people.”
She shook her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Which really irritated her. She needed to be more careful around him.
Two men came into the bar, and one nodded. “Fisher.”
Kylee watched as the three exchanged the standard male-shoulder-slap thing that seemed to have replaced a customary handshake.
“Hey, pretty lady.” One of them sat on the bar stool. “Jarvis is back.”
She looked at him. “What does Jarvis want to drink?”
“A pint of stout.” He grinned. “And an appetizer. But we can start with your number.”
She pulled off a pint of beer, and placed the glass on the counter. “Your drink.” She faced the other man and asked, “Going to try something other than a Dr. Pepper tonight?”
“Come on, Mario,” Jarvis nudged him. “Man up.”
Mario laughed. “No.”
Kylee put a large glass with ice on the counter and nodded at the soda machine along the back wall. “You know where it is.”
Mario nodded. “Thanks, Kylee.”
The three took up their places at the pool table and Kylee got back to work.
People steadily streamed in. It was Thursday night, so most were locals. She was beginning to recognize a few faces. Thursdays were the night Janet and two other teachers came in for their “book club.” But Kylee had listened to their conversations and she’d yet to hear them mention a single book.
There were plenty of customers from the university’s vet school—like Fisher, Mario and Jarvis. Some were in scrubs, others not. She was beginning to tell the difference between the staffers and the upper-level students by their demeanor. The students all looked exhausted and stressed out.
Then there were ranch workers from Boone Ranch. Apparently the Boones were a pretty big deal in Stonewall Crossing, the founding family of the town and the veterinarian school. According to Cutter they owned most of the county and employed half the people who lived here. To own that much property, employ so many people, run a working ranch and run a bed-and-breakfast on part of their property, the Boones had to be loaded. The number of Boone employees she’d served supported that. Looking at Fisher it was hard to imagine the wealth he came from, he acted humble and...regular.
Her eyes swept the bar again. Normally a few patrons would sit at the bar and watch whatever sports Cutter put on. Tonight, one of them—a Boone employee—was worked up about something. He was radiating hostility, something she knew well. The rigid set of his jaw, the short, jerky movements—signs he might be trouble. She shook her head. What would be signs of trouble in Las Vegas didn’t always apply here. Stonewall