Instead, she spun on a heel and walked toward the other end of the bar, as far from him as she could get, her big goofball of a dog at her side, taller than some of the smaller tables.
“You’re scaring away the customers again,” his brother Mace said. “Thought you were past that. Didn’t your government alphabet-agency-issued therapist tell you to try to stop alienating people?”
“You take out the trash yet?”
“You’ve got other employees for that. You know, the ones you actually pay.”
Bodie gave him a level look, and Mace sighed. “You’re still mad I told Mom that you were back to running, even though your doc hasn’t said it’s okay.”
Bodie used the same low-pitched voice he had once used on bad guys in his previous profession. “Just remember, I don’t get mad; I get even.”
Mace grinned.
“Just take out the damn trash.” Bodie watched him go, tamping down on the niggle of worry at the back of his mind, because his baby brother hadn’t been acting like himself.
Okay, so none of them had been, including himself. The Campbells hadn’t been okay since Bodie’s dad died six months ago now.
Bodie glanced down at the other end of the bar and once again caught Ms. I’ve Got This’s eyes. She purposefully turned away. Okay then. He took a few orders and wiped down the bar, all while keeping track of everyone and everything. He was good at that, courtesy of his training with good old Uncle Sam.
He had eyes on the back left corner of the tables section, where four twentysomethings were getting loaded, but they were self-contained for now. A young woman, too young, sat alone in the back right corner, either waiting for someone or hiding out. It wouldn’t be the first time an underage kid had tried to order alcohol here. Or the last.
At the bar, the guy to Bodie’s right had hit his limit. If he asked for another round, he was going to be disappointed. The table against the left wall was a rowdy group of bachelorettes. In Bodie’s experience, a group of inebriated women made the worst customers, as they tended to harass the male staff. And sure enough one of them reached out to pat their server’s ass. Jason quickly turned, picked up their empties, and pocketed his tip, all while smoothly avoiding any and all hands. He looked up at Bodie and nodded. He was handling himself.
Normally on a July night, they’d have all the doors open and the front patio filled with tables for outdoor dining. The unexpected snow had taken care of that. Either way, it was a relief everything was running smoothly. He’d been out of the ATF, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, for six months, but three of those months had been spent in a rehab facility back east recovering from four gunshot holes in various parts of his body. He wouldn’t say he was as good as new, but he was getting there. Fact was, he knew how to do a few things exceptionally well. Track down bad guys. Keep himself alive under any circumstances. Oh, and fight. All great skills for felons . . . and the people who pursued them.
He’d done the latter for a long time, until his luck had run out. Now all he wanted to do was just be for a while, with a good view. Running a bar on Lake Tahoe was close enough. Except he wasn’t just running it—he owned it. There were four buildings on this lot, five if you counted the ramshackle warehouse behind the bar, and his dad had left one to each of his sons.
Even the dead one.
Bodie had gotten the bar and the warehouse, which had been his dad’s fondest possession. It was impossible for Bodie to stand inside Olde Tahoe Tap and not think of the man who’d indelibly shaped his life and molded him into the man he was. A hard thing to think about while surrounded by a packed house. But, man, his dad would’ve loved this. The bar was making decent money, which meant Bodie could go home and do nothing if he wanted.
But he’d never really gotten the hang of doing nothing. So here he was, licking his wounds, both physical and mental, while trying to figure out how to put his life back together.
His phone buzzed, which he ignored. It buzzed again a few times in quick succession, and thinking it must have been an emergency, he pulled it from his pocket. No emergency, just the Campbell family text thread.
Mom: Bodie, your brothers tell me you’re working too many hours and looking too thin. Have Mace close up tonight and stop by, I’ve got a lasagna for you to take home. Love you. P.S. If you don’t, I’ll come by the bar with Hazel and her daughter Janie to set you two up. She’s very nice.
Mace: Go Mom!
Zeke: Mom, wait until I get there. I need to get a pic of Bodie’s face.
Jesus. Zeke, their older brother, had a smart, hot attorney wife, three kids, and a white picket fence and was annoyingly perfect—according to their mom. And the US government should hire Mom Campbell, since her intimidation techniques were better than anyone he knew. Hazel was her BFF, and she’d been attempting to set her daughters up with the Campbell boys for years. Janie was perfectly nice, but he wasn’t. Plus, he needed another complication like he needed . . . well, this stupid text thread. He hit reply:
Bodie: Mom, I love you and your lasagna, but if you try to set me up on a date, I’ll work 24/7 AND stop eating.
Mace came back from taking out the trash, tucking his phone into his pocket with a grin. Which faded when he looked across the bar and saw his ex, Shay, sitting calmly at a table, steadfastly ignoring him. “She just get here?”
“Yep,” Bodie said, pleased to see someone else miserable. “I’m about to text Mom to let her know that you’re ignoring the love of your life so she can get down here and facilitate your reconciliation.”
Mace didn’t bite. Nor did he take his gaze off Shay. “Why does she look like a cartoon?”
Bodie looked at Shay and felt a stir of amusement and affection for the woman they’d all grown up with, the one who still held Mace’s heart in the palm of her hand. “She’s dressed up as Velma.”
“Who?”
“Velma, the cutie-pie detective from Scooby-Doo.”
Still nothing from Mace.
“It’s book club night,” Bodie said. “The theme was fictional female detectives. Man, you should know this about your woman. Or read the family newsletter Mom emails us weekly.”
Mace’s expression was pure broodiness. “Shay’s not mine anymore.”
“Look, whatever you did, go grovel and get her back. She’s been your better half for years.”
Mace made a sound like a snarl, shook his head, and continued to take in Shay’s short skirt, the wig, the high heels. “She was always after me to join the book club. I never did.”
“Because you’re an idiot.” Bodie shook his head at Mace’s hound-dog expression. “Just go over there.”
“Can’t.”
Mace and Shay had been high school sweethearts, then college sweethearts, perfectly paired and wildly in love until about a month ago, when it was suddenly just over. Bodie hadn’t been able to pry the story out of either of them, but hell, if those two couldn’t make it work, the rest of the world was doomed. “Are you ever going to tell me why she dumped you?”
Mace’s mouth tightened grimly, but he said nothing.
“Fine,” Bodie said. “Don’t talk to me. But talk to someone.”