Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) Read Online Free PDF Page B

No clutter. No headache. What the hell was my issue then?
    Perhaps a hobby was the ticket.
    A text pinged my cell and I glanced at the screen. Jenny had messaged.
    Something came up at the bar. One of my guys called in sick. Gotta handle things here. Can we hook up tomorrow?
    I sighed, thumbing my response. No prob. Catch you then.
    Well, there went my plans for tonight. I headed back for the house and showered the sunscreen and sand off my body. I thought about popping in at Jenny’s bar, but she had this thing about the place being for locals only. In a city teeming with tourists, she wanted an establishment that catered to townies. By the sound of it when she talked about Winter’s Den, she had a good number of regulars from her grandfather’s friends to blue-collar younger guys. Many of the women who frequented typically worked at the hotels.
    So, what to do? Sitting around watching the waves or a movie didn’t appeal. Plus, I couldn’t sit still to save my life. When we’d vacation down here, we usually stuck to the same haunts and the same people. Perhaps driving around would give me an idea.
    Donning jeans and a black tee, I grabbed my wallet and keys, heading out. I drove the main strip, but most of what I found was family stuff and sights. Weaving my way south, I broke off the main roads. By now it was dark and a few night clubs spotted the roadside. One had a blue neon light and was aptly named Tedium.
    Laughing, I found a parking spot and made my way inside. I showed my ID to a guy five times my size and a quarter of my IQ before being granted entry to the floor. The place resembled an old fishing warehouse and reeked of sweat. A loft with an iron railing wove around the second floor, where people were sitting at high top tables. Behind them, there seemed to be private rooms. Blue lights lit the second floor ceiling and a bar to my right. Straight ahead, dancers gyrated to a horrific blend of country techno. Though busy, the club wasn’t packed.
    Right. Well, I’d wanted different.
    I strode over to the bar, ordered whatever was on tap from a white-blonde, pierced chick manning the counter, and turned on my stool to face the room. Sipping my beer—bitter disgustingness, that—I wondered what I’d hoped to accomplish from this pit stop.
    Halfway through my drink, I scanned the bar and my gaze landed on a woman three stools away. Coal lined her bright blue eyes, her lashes spiky. Her black hair was tapered in a short pixie cut and had confused chaos written all over the style.
    She must’ve taken my curiosity for interest because she hopped down and made her way over, climbing on the stool beside me. She wore a white tank top and jeans that had more holes than denim. I had to guess her height near five-ten, and she was all legs. Piercings ran all the way up the shell of her left ear and halfway up the right. Both her arms were a sleeve of tattoos, too many to make out a design.
    “You look out of place, boy wonder.” She sucked a bright green drink in a martini glass through a straw, her red lips the sexiest thing.
    Boy wonder? To formulate a decent response, I let my gaze wander. Come to think of it, I did seem to be the only non-goth, non-bikerish around. “Looks can be deceiving.” After all, she of the tattoos and piercings had sat next to me. “What’s your name?”
    “Cara.” She set her drink aside and eyed me as if her name was meant to be challenge.
    “Pretty name.”
    “For a pretty girl?” She rolled her eyes, her voice implying she spoke fluent sarcasm as a second language.
    I took a deeper look and nodded. Under all that makeup, ink, and bling, she was quite pretty. Oval face, soft-looking fair skin, delicate features. Her breasts were full, but the rest of her needed a steady diet of cheeseburger. She was a different kind of thin than Jenny. “You are very lovely, Cara.”
    Her eyes rounded, then narrowed. Her lip pouted as if she were trying to decide if she believed me.