“What?”

She gave me a tight smile, then headed out to check on her section, asking if anyone needed refills. I was about to do the same, but Max grabbed my arm and held me in place.

“Wait.”

I turned to him in surprise and my stomach churned when I saw the worry in his eyes.

The door burst open and a group of men walked through the door, younger and rougher than the early crowd. While the older men didn’t have any women with them, some of the new guys did. They settled in at tables behind the first group and shot Ruth expectant looks as she walked over to greet them.

I glanced up at Max, but he shook his head. “Not yet.”

Something about his tone made me nervous, but we both waited behind the counter until the last of the stragglers were seated. Max’s eyes hardened as he pulled the remote from under the counter. “Follow me.”

I followed like a dutiful puppy, stopping short just to his left.

A few of the new guys had already noticed me and were eyeing me like I was a grade A sirloin steak. Others looked downright hostile.

Max flicked a button on the remote and the sounds of the game immediately silenced. A loud groan of protest went through the crowd, but Max just stood there until the men quieted. Someone’s eyes flicked to his right leg, and I swallowed a gasp. He had a huge hunting knife strapped there. Just how dangerous was this place?

“Gentlemen,” he said just like he’d started his previous speech, but his earlier teasing tone had been replaced with an edge of warning. “This is Carly. She’s filling in for Lula. I have no idea where Lula went, nor do I know when she’ll be back. But until she returns, Carly’s been kind enough to fill in. You will treat her like the lady she is, and if you don’t, Tiny’ll kick you so hard in the ass you’ll be shitting out your ears, and that’s after I get done with you. Any questions?”

A few men gave me an inquisitive look, but everyone remained silent.

“I’d also like to add,” Max said, sounding more good-natured, “that Tiny’s taken a shine to Carly, so he’s bound to be extra contrary if you step out of line. Capisce?”

A few men muttered capisce but didn’t ask any questions.

“Now, you newcomers are lucky. To celebrate Carly joinin’ our team, she’ll be passin’ out a round of free beers for y’all.”

“I don’t want a damn beer,” one of the men shouted. “I want a whiskey.”

Max’s hard gaze landed on him, and they had a momentary staring contest until Max said, “Then when Carly comes around with your beer, you’ll give her a polite ‘no, thank you,’ and when she’s finished passing out everyone else’s drinks, you can order your whiskey.”

“That’s bullshit, Maxwell!” another man shouted.

“You’re always free to walk your lazy ass up to the bar and order it from me,” Max said with an ornery grin. “I don’t smell as nice as Carly and I’m definitely not as good of company, but suit yourself.” He shrugged, then spun around and headed to the bar, giving me a glance that suggested I should follow.

When we got behind the bar, I said sarcastically, “Thanks for the warning.”

An apologetic look washed over his face as he started filling a mug. “I didn’t want to scare you, and I had no idea what kind of mood they’d be in when they finally showed up.”

“Why did they all come together in a pack?” I asked. “And why would their moods collectively change from night to night?”

“Most of them hang out together, and I’d heard they were havin’ a meetin’ earlier. They must have headed over here after it broke up.” His tone suggested he knew what they’d been up to but didn’t feel like elaborating.

I frowned, wondering if I’d just jumped into a hornet’s nest. Did it matter since I’d be leaving in a few days? That brought up another good question. “Why are you spending all this money on me?” I asked, gesturing to the mugs. “I doubt I’ll be here long enough to make it worth your while.”

He winked. “My momma always told me to be sweet to pretty ladies. Just doin’ like she taught.”

“I know you’re doin’ it so they’ll like me more, but still, Max. That’s a lot of beer.”

“I ain’t fillin’ ’em all that full,” he said, putting a three-fourths-full mug on the tray as if to prove his point. “Besides, some of ’em don’t like it when Lula takes off. They’ll be inclined to like you more and not give me grief, which makes my job easier. Win-win.”

I took it we were buttering up the first group of men to tip me well. The second group we were bribing to not stir up trouble, although some had visibly flinched at Max’s casual suggestion that Tiny would cause them bodily injuries if they got out of line.

I carried the first tray over and started passing out the beer. It was obvious this group wasn’t as chatty as the first lot, but a guy in his mid to late twenties shot me a curious gaze.

“What are you doin’ in these parts?”

“Just stoppin’ through for a few days,” I said with a huge smile. “And helpin’ Max out while Lula is gone.”

“We’re not used to strangers around here,” he said. “How’d you find out about the job?”

It wasn’t any of his business, but I figured he’d likely find out anyway since it was such a small town. Might as well look friendly and pretend I had nothing to hide. “My car broke down out at the overlook. I’m staying here while I’m waiting for it to get repaired.”

“You were out at the overlook?” asked a guy with a handlebar mustache and a pockmarked face. “What were you doin’ out there?”

“I guess I was doin’ what most people do out there—takin’ in the pretty view.” My smile was starting to make my cheeks hurt. Why was this guy so suspicious of me?

“Ain’t nobody go out there no mores,” another guy said. He said something else, but it was drowned out by an eruption of loud cheering.

The Titans had made a touchdown.

I started to move on to the next table, but the guy who’d spoken last grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, making some of the beers slosh on the tray.

“Where’s your car?” he asked. “Wyatt’s garage?” He wore an AC/DC T-shirt so old and threadbare it looked like it had been worn nearly every day since its purchase at a concert when the band was in its heyday. Only, the guy was young enough that he must have gotten it at a thrift store or from his father’s closet.

“One and the same,” I said, careful to keep my cheerful tone intact as I made a show of extracting my arm. “He towed it down a few hours ago.”

Thankfully, the guy didn’t try to grab me again. “He didn’t say nothin’ about it when I saw ’im.”

My smile started to slip, but I tightened my cheek muscles. “Well, I sure hope it was Wyatt Drummond that took off with my Honda hooked up to the back of his tow truck or I’m in a world of trouble.”

That produced some laughter, and I moved on to the next table to pass out the remaining two beers on my tray.

I set a beer in front of a guy who was leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, studying me like I was a crib sheet for his final exam in trigonometry. He had dark brown hair that hung over his ears and his collar, but not long enough to be pulled back into a man bun or ponytail.