Slow Heat by Lorie O'Clare

Author:Lorie O'Clare [O'Clare, Lorie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, C429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 9780312534608
Publisher: St. Martin's
Published: 2012-11-27T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“Set me up, Don,” Maggie said, and slapped her hand down on the smooth wooden bar.

The bartender, a man in his mid-fifties with a slight pudgy build, looked at her, then glanced past her at Micah.

“I mean it, Don. Make it whiskey.”

“Okay,” Don said and finished drying the glass he had in his hand. He wiped his hands on the bar towel then poured Maggie a shot of whiskey.

She downed it and put the shot glass on the counter. “Again.”

“Maggie,” Don complained.

“I said again.”

This time the bartender looked over at a table where a group of people sat. Micah immediately noticed Maggie’s brother, who’d brought her to the lawyer downtown. Damn good thing she never made that appointment.

“Don,” Maggie said.

Don sighed and poured another shot. Maggie tilted her head back and downed the second shot.

“Again,” she demanded.

“I don’t—”

“Again,” Maggie insisted.

Don poured the shot. Maggie downed it.

Micah leaned into the bar next to her. “What are you doing?” he whispered in her ear.

Maggie placed both elbows on the counter and turned her head so she was looking at him over her bare shoulder. “My sister believes I’m an idiot and someone tried to kill me. What would you suggest I do?”

“I can think of one or two things.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed and she hummed as she lowered her gaze, then took her time raising it to look at his face. “Want to fuck me?” she whispered.

“Why are we at this bar?”

“Oh yeah.” Maggie straightened and held a finger in the air. “Don, where is my shot?” she demanded. This time she reached in her pocket and pulled out a twenty. Slapping it next to her empty shot glass, she yelled, “Take care of me, bartender, and one for my friend here, too.”

Don seemed to take her request more seriously after looking at Micah. He put two shot glasses down on the counter and filled them both three-quarters of the way with whiskey. Maggie grabbed hers and downed it with one swallow.

“Drink up, dear,” she encouraged, nudging Micah. “They have only the best at my father’s pub.”

Micah saw the label on the bottle the bartender was pouring from, definitely not the best whiskey there was. On the other hand, it wasn’t the worst whiskey a bar could serve, either. A quick glance around showed proof this was a workingman’s bar, a neighborhood pub. It wouldn’t surprise him if most of the people who came into this bar had been coming here a very long time. There was no pool table, no darts, no jukebox. Something from before Micah’s time played through speakers behind the bar. This was a place where folks came to drink off their worries, which appeared to be what Maggie was doing right now.

“One more round,” Maggie announced, sticking her finger in the air. “Hell, make it one for the family.”

She turned her back on Micah and the three people at the table in the corner of the bar looked at her. Her brother was already standing, but the old man with him stopped him.

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