“Well, you can tell.” She raises a hand to give me a high five. “That was fantastic.” She clenches my hand for a second and meets my eyes, smiling. I don’t quite know what to do with that. Yet.

I look around the bar. The place is finally quiet and Logan is stacking chairs on tables for the cleaning crew. He raises the tail of his t-shirt and mops his brow with it. His abs ripple as he bends and a whistle escapes my lips. “Goodness gracious,” I breathe.

“That boy is one fine piece of man candy,” she says, stopping to lick her lips.

“Makes me want to lick him from top to bottom,” I reply softly, more to myself than to her. My face floods with heat when I see that she heard me.

She laughs and keeps cleaning. “What’s stopping you?”

I point to Logan. “He is.”

Her brows shoot up toward her hairline. “Logan won’t scratch your itch?” She points a finger toward him. I’m afraid I’m going to have to give her mouth to mouth, she looks that shocked.

I shake my head. “He scratched my itch. But he won’t let me scratch his,” I whisper fiercely. I have no idea why I’m talking to this girl. Probably because she’s a bartender. They have a natural way of making people open up and spill their guts. Consider me eviscerated.

Abby steps back, her chin dropping toward her chest. She regards me like I just grew two heads. Then she smiles. “It’s about damn time,” she says, throwing her head back with a laugh.

“It’s not funny,” I pout. “And don’t say anything to Ford, ok?” I add.

She holds up a hand like she’s raising it to God and says, “I promise not to say a word.” She laughs again. “Even though it’s the news of the century, I’ll keep it to myself.”

I look up as Pete walks out of the back, but he’s deep in conversation with Bone and another man. I watch them closely. Pete reaches over and shakes hands with Bone. What in the world is that about? You never, ever shake hands with Bone. Ever. That would imply that you made a deal with him. And Bone’s deals never turn out well for anyone but Bone.

Logan smacks his hands together to get Pete’s attention. He signs something really quickly, but Pete brushes him off with a wave. Logan sets down the mop he was wielding, and steps toward the pair of them. Bone squeezes Pete’s shoulder and then Bone walks away from him and straight toward me.

Bone leans back against the counter beside me, and Abby tries to make herself look really busy. I watch Logan as he yells at Pete in sign language. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it’s not pleasant, whatever it is.

Bone looks at me over his shoulder and says, “You got a place to stay tonight, Kit?”

I nod. “Yep. But thanks for checking.”

Bone looks closely at me for a minute. So closely that my skin crawls. “Let me know if you ever need anything.”

“Sure will.” I don’t say more than that. I just play with my straw and wait for him to walk away. It’s best not to antagonize him.

Bone stands up tall, nods at me, and walks toward the back entrance. He leaves. Logan is still yelling at Pete. And Pete’s finally deflating a bit. Logan’s bigger than he is. But that’s not all. Pete looked like he wanted to argue with Logan when they first started talking. But then Logan wraps his fist up in Pete’s shirt and jerks him into his chest. He’s not signing a word. He’s just glaring at Pete until Pete holds up his hands in surrender. If looks could kill, Pete would be a dead lump on the floor.

Logan releases him and Pete falls back off his tiptoes onto his heels. He signs something that calms Logan down, but he’s still pissed, and he starts shoving chairs from place to place. He was stacking them. Now he’s stacking them forcefully. Pete walks toward me and grumbles.

“What were you doing with Bone, Pete?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he mutters.

“That man’s no good. Don’t let him get you into trouble,” I warn quietly.

“Why does everyone think I’m going to get into trouble?” Pete asks, affronted. He pats his chest. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not with the likes of him,” I say.

He looks up at me, and asks, “What do you know about Bone?”

“More than I want to know,” I admit. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I’ve seen what he’s done to girls at the shelters. I’ve seen how he uses them.

“Mmm hmm,” Pete hums.

Just then, the band members walk out from the back of the building. The lead singer walks toward me and slaps a small pile of bills in front of me. He sits down on a stool next to me, his shoulder a little too close to mine for comfort. I shift away. He doesn’t take the hint.

I look down at the stack of money. “What’s that for?” I ask.

“That’s your cut of the door.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask.

He nods toward the front door. “We get a percentage of the cover charge. That’s your cut. We split it five ways.”

A grin steals across my lips. “Seriously?”

He smiles and nods. “Seriously.” He lays a hand over mine. “You did a good job tonight.”

I slide my hand from under his and wipe it on my jeans. He doesn’t notice. He looks at me like he’s hungry and I’m cake.

I pick up the stack of bills and fan them out in my hand. There’s more than three hundred dollars here. My mouth falls open. “Thanks,” I say. I can live for weeks on this much money.