Breathe, Princess
The man in the golf shirt put his hand flat on the bar, right next to June's glass.
"Pretty girl like you, drinking all alone?"
He was about forty, with a car dealership logo on his chest and a thick gold watch hanging loose on his wrist. His friend had taken the stool on June's other side. They both smelled like too much cologne.
June didn't answer. She'd come to the Low Tide because she couldn't face Aunt Pat's kitchen tonight, and she couldn't face the empty quiet of her own head. She'd wanted noise. She hadn't wanted this.
She finished her whiskey sour, put a twenty under the glass, and stood up.
The man in the golf shirt stood up with her and stepped into her way. "Hey, what's the rush? Let me buy you one. We're practically friends."
"I don't see any friends," June said. "I see too much cologne and two guys standing in my way."
He laughed like he hadn't heard a word. "Ooh, she bites." He reached for her shoulder. "Come on, have some fun—"
"Don't touch me."
"Or what?"
His hand was an inch from her shoulder when another hand came out of the crowd and closed around his wrist.
Then an arm dropped around his neck, friendly, like two old buddies at a reunion.
"Why don't you bother me instead?" Boone said cheerfully. "What do you want with my little sister?"
The man looked at Boone's face. Then he looked at the Sovereigns patch on Boone's cut. His whole body seemed to shrink.
"Boone. Hey, man. We didn't know—"
June looked past Boone's shoulder. She was looking for Dom. She did it without thinking, the way she'd done it in every room since she was six.
Dom wasn't there.
Rook was.
He was standing alone at the bottom of the stairs that led up to Boone's office, one shoulder against the wall, a beer bottle hanging from two fingers.
He wasn't watching Boone or the man in the golf shirt.
He was looking at her feet.
June looked down. She was wearing the boots. She'd put them on at the hospital to see if they fit, and then she hadn't taken them off. She hadn't let herself think about why.
When she looked back up, Rook's eyes had moved up to her face. One corner of his mouth went up. He lifted his beer an inch, like a toast.
June's face went hot.
"This is Dom Reyes's sister," Boone was saying. He'd stopped smiling. He patted the man's cheek twice, slow. "You lay one finger on her, I take the whole hand."
The apologies came fast. "Miss Reyes, we're so sorry, we didn't know—"
June didn't correct the name. Boone waved two prospects over from the door, and the men got hustled out toward the kitchen.
Then Boone turned back to her like nothing had happened. "What are you doing down here by yourself? Come upstairs."
"I was about to leave."
"Dom's home sick." Boone already had a hand on her back. "So somebody's gotta keep you out of trouble. Something happens to you in my bar, Dom'll burn it down with me inside."
At the sound of Dom's name, June stopped arguing.
The stairs to Boone's office were steep and narrow, with old rubber treads worn thin. Rook went up right behind her.
She could feel him there, one step down, the whole way. She could hear the slow creak of his boots under hers.
Halfway up, the stiff toe of her new boot caught on a loose tread.
Her foot slid out from under her. She fell backward, straight into him.
His arm came around her waist and stopped her. Her back hit his chest. For a second her whole weight was resting against him, and he held it like it was nothing.
His hand was spread wide across her stomach. She could feel each of his fingers through her shirt.
He didn't set her back on her feet right away.
"Breaking them in already," Rook said. He said it low, right by her ear, so only she could hear.
June couldn't breathe for a second.
Then he moved his hand, and she was standing on her own again, and he was back to one step below her like nothing had happened.
His face had gone easy and bored. When he spoke again, his voice was normal and loud enough for everyone on the stairs to hear.
"Falling up the stairs. That's a new one. Want me to call Dom? He can come put in a ramp."
A couple of guys at the top laughed.
June pressed herself flat against the wall. "Go ahead."
Rook went up past her. His shoulder brushed hers on the way.
From the top of the stairs, Boone called down, "Why do you always ride her like that? Have some manners."
"She doesn't call me her brother," Rook said.
Boone's office had two worn leather couches, a pool table with a rip in the felt, and a big window that looked down on the dance floor.
Boone sat June next to him on the long couch.
The armchair to her right was Rook's.
He sat in it like he'd picked it out himself. He stretched his legs out, and one of his boots ended up next to hers on the floor, almost touching.
A prospect put a fresh beer in his hand. He didn't say thank you.
Boone leaned forward to grab a handful of peanuts off the coffee table. On the way back, he stopped and looked down at June's feet.
"Whoa. Nice boots." He squinted at them. "Those are real riding boots. Steel toe and everything. Since when do you ride?"
"I don't," June said. "Not yet."
"Those things are like four hundred bucks." Boone cracked a peanut. "Where'd you get them?"
June opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
In the armchair next to her, Rook took a slow drink of his beer. He didn't say a word.
Boone looked at June. Then he looked at Rook. Then he looked back at June. Something slow and confused went across his face, like a man trying to add up a bill in his head.
"Huh," Boone said.
He didn't say anything else. He just went back to his peanuts. But June saw him glance at Rook one more time, and then at his own phone, like he was thinking about texting somebody.
June tucked her feet back under the couch as far as they would go.
After that, she held a cold bottle and didn't follow most of what the guys were talking about.
Then Dom's name came up.
"Heard that singer canceled two shows to come play nurse," Hollis said. "That's dedication."
Boone waved a hand. "Doesn't mean anything with Dom. Anyway, she flew back to Nashville this afternoon. Got mobbed at Sea-Tac."
June looked down at her beer. She picked at the corner of the label with her thumbnail. Whether that woman stayed or left had nothing to do with her.
Her thumbnail tore the label right in half.
Next to her, Rook leaned over the arm of his chair. Nobody else was looking. His voice was so low she almost missed it.
"Breathe, Princess."
June realized she'd been holding her breath. She let it out.
She didn't look at him. She couldn't. But she could feel him there, close, the warmth of his arm a few inches from hers on the armrest.
He didn't move away. He stayed right there, like a wall she could lean on if she wanted to.
She didn't. She sat up straighter instead.
"What about you, June?" Hollis turned on the other couch to look at her. "You're all grown up now. You date anybody over there in Scotland?"
She hadn't expected it to come around to her. Her thumbnail stopped on what was left of the label.
In the armchair to her right, Rook lifted his beer to his mouth. He didn't drink from it. He just held it there and waited, his eyes on her.
"Yeah," June said. "I was seeing someone."
