Page 41 of Maple Mountain
“Well, yeah.It’s their family’s land.Of course they know.”
The Copper Mule was only a few doors down from the bookstore.I opened the heavy wooden door and let Poet enter first.
It smelled like paprika and grease.A few people were at tables, but it was still early enough to be quiet.
“You order,” Poet said.“I’ll snag us a booth.”
Nodding, I turned toward the bar.I didn’t recognize the bartender, but I did know the cowboy sitting on a stool, nursing a pint of beer.
“Garrett Calhoun,” I stated with a wide smile.
He swiveled on his stool to look at me.His grin was infectious.“Wyn Larsen.I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”
He rose and quickly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the air.He twirled me about, causing a shriek of laughter to escape my mouth.
“Put me down, you heathen!”
He stopped spinning and gently lowered me to the ground and dropped his arms from around me.“What are you doing here?”
“Here, at this bar, or here in this town?”
“Both.”
“Poet and I are having dinner.”I flung my hand in the direction of my friend.“As for being in town, I kind of fell into a nanny gig for a while.”
“No kidding,” he said.“Last time I saw you, you swore you’d never leave the city.”
“Things change,” I said.
“Yeah, they do,” he agreed, his voice low.
“You drinking alone?”
“For the time being.Griffin is meeting me in a bit.I got started early.”
“There are only two reasons an attractive man drinks alone in a bar.One, he’s trying to find some tail.Two, he’s trying to drown his sorrows.”
“You think I’m attractive?Well, well, well ...”
I rolled my eyes.“Shut up, Garrett.”
He smirked.“As for drinking alone in a bar, I won’t be alone if you sit with me.”
“Girls’ night.But if you need a friendly sympathetic ear, give me a call and we can grab coffee or something.”
The female bartender who’d been serving another customer came up to me and smiled.“What can I get you?”
I ordered the meat combo platter and two mocktails and then handed over my credit card to start a tab.
“Mocktails?”Garrett asked in shock.“Why the hell are you in a bar and not drinking?”
“I’m not drinking in solidarity with my pregnant friend,” I said.
“Ah, right,” he said with a head bob.“So, who’s the nanny gig for?”
“Archer Keel.He’s the farrier at Elk Ridge.”
“Yeah, I’ve met Archer,” he said.“But that doesn’t make any?—”
