Halloween music trickled from the open door, accompanied by the smell of baking chocolate. It must have been fudge day. Ergh…
After leaving a handful of brochures at the front counter, and with my willpower still intact (I’d successfully talked myself down from sampling any of the delicious smelling treats), I found myself standing in front of the Half-Moon Bar and Grill.
And this stop made me nervous. Recalling the way the owner, Roy, had looked at me when Marty, Finn and I had had dinner here the other night, my heart was already pounding. I could remember the raw animal magnetism that wafted off him, even from across the room.
I rubbed at my arms self-consciously even as I began a brisk walk through the open doors, and I noticed a different hostess standing behind the podium. She was probably just over nineteen.
After telling her I was here to ask Roy if I could leave some brochures for my store, she escorted me to the bar, winding through a maze of mostly empty tables. There was a smattering of chatting couples, but that was about it. The large room seemed as cavernous as a cathedral when not at capacity. There was only one patron at the bar, hunched over his drink, which appeared to be made of way too much grenadine syrup. He might have just been drinking the syrup itself, because the liquid was a dark, viscous red.
He was busy talking to the bartender, Roy, who immediately glanced at me as I approached. That same sweltering expression appeared in his eyes, and it was all I could do to force myself to hold his gaze. Up close and personal, he was even taller and broader than I remembered and, ahem, hotter.
“Blast,” the man beside me muttered. I detected just the faintest hint of an Irish accent as he spoke.
I vaguely recognized the man from his profile picture on Match.com—he was the dentist Marty had told me about. But I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember his name. He looked like he was suffering from a bad head cold. His eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot, and bruise-like circles bagged just beneath them. He rubbed vigorously at his temples.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He looked at me and shook his head. “I can’t get this damned headache to go away.” Then he looked at the drink before him. “I thought this hair of the dog rot was supposed to work.” Then he looked over at Roy, who was already giving him a smirk. “I thought you were the authority on that sort of thing.”
“If you’d listened to me last night, you wouldn’t have had a hangover today. I told you that stuff was strong enough to wake you from a death sleep.” He chuckled and the sound was… sexy. “Suck it up and find a way to take an aspirin.”
“Useless advice,” the man said and pulled a face as he mimed retching onto the counter.
I didn’t comment, just slipped onto the barstool next to the exhausted man. Yes, I’d only planned to ask quickly if I could leave my brochures and then skedaddle, but now I thought I might have an iced tea before I was on my way.
And maybe I’d get to know Roy Osbourne a bit… better?
Roy buffed the counter top very near the man’s elbow, knocking into him deliberately on the second pass through.
“You’re new here,” Roy said, even though he didn’t bother looking up from his cleaning. It took me a second to realize he was talking to me.
The other man swiveled to face me at the same time that Roy looked up and into my eyes. Up close, Roy’s gray eyes were even more captivating. They were like a pair of dark nimbuses, poised in that taut moment just before lightning strikes. Even though I couldn’t explain why, there was a sense of danger to him. Not necessarily menace but... the promise of it if you pissed him off. Even leaning over the counter, he was over a head taller than me, and I was acutely aware of how broad he was, how much potential was contained in the muscle that strained his shirt. He could crush me without trying.
The other man’s stare was equally disquieting. Despite their bloodshot appearance, the green of his eyes was still drowning deep, the face that accompanied it still very handsome. He seemed more urbane and polished than Roy, but no less dangerous. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I thought so. And it wasn’t like I was going to trust my gut. As far as instincts go, mine didn’t have a fantastic track record when it came to men.
Regardless, there was something… otherworldly emanating off both men. Something decidedly… supernatural. It was there in the way the air around them seemed to be teeming with energy. Yes, just like I’d detected with Fifi and Ophelia, there was power coming from these two. I just wasn’t sure what sort of power, but it was there, all the same.
“Yes, I am new in town,” I answered, finally. Once I managed to find my voice, the man sitting next to me smiled, revealing a sharp, glittering grin that was both alarming and somehow boyish. He reached out a long-fingered hand and brushed his knuckles ever-so-gently across my left cheekbone. I immediately pulled back, unaccustomed to such an obvious break in personal space.
“Ah, you’re quite fetching when you blush,” he said.
A bass rumble sounded from Roy. But, it wasn’t a laugh. No, his eyes roiled, the gray going darker as anger clouded his expression.
He was growling. How was that even possible?
“Hands to yourself, Lorcan. You know my rules and what happens if you break them.”
Ah, that’s right. This was the dentist, Lorcan Rowe.
Lorcan withdrew his hand carefully, shooting Roy a mildly quizzical look. “Testy, testy. Feeling a bit territorial, are we?”
Roy’s flat, unfriendly stare would have made a Marine flinch. Lorcan was either too cocky or too stupid to take the warning. Instead, he faced me with a well-practiced smile.
“My name is Lorcan Rowe,” he almost purred. “What’s yours, my lovely?”
My cheeks, impossibly, grew even hotter. “Holly… Morton, though most people call me Poppy.”
“Nice to meet you, Poppy Morton,” Lorcan said, grinning at me again.
I smiled at him and then turned to face Roy when he cleared his throat. “I’m glad to know your name, Poppy,” he said, and his voice was low… intimate somehow. I swallowed hard. “I’m Roy.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I managed.
“And what do you do, Poppy?” Lorcan asked, pulling my attention again.
“Oh, I run the new shop on Main Street, ‘Poppy’s Potions’.”
“Ah,” he answered, and made the one word sound like praise. “You must be the herbalist my assistant has been raving about.”
“Um, I mean… I guess?” I asked, not meaning to sound so confused, but there it was.
Lorcan nodded. “Your remedies for toothaches have gone over well at the office. And the stuff for nerves... what’s it called again?”
“Well, I have quite a few potions for nerves and anxiety.”
He nodded, but still seemed like he was reaching for the title. “It starts with a T, I do believe.”
“Tranquility Oil?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s it. It helped tremendously for the children afraid of Novocain shots.”
“Oh, good, I’m glad to hear that,” I said with a quick nod.
“Lorcan…” Roy began warningly, though I wasn’t sure why.
Lorcan held his hands out in a pacifying gesture, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the small, haughty smirk on his face.