Free Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Lucky by Cate Ellink Page B

in the city.
    It was different here. Very different.
    He sighed, crossed one ankle over the other, leaned his elbow on the bar and waited.
    So Blue Eyes was Lucky, the respected publican. Holy hell. That’s why the giant didn’t challenge her. She was the local legend. The fairest but toughest publican they’d ever had.
    Still waiting. No one else seemed to be serving or working. No one spoke to him. No one looked at him. And no one seemed to care if he was here or not. He’d thought people might have come up and said ‘hi’, wanting to meet the new bloke. But no.
    Strange place this.
    Ten minutes later, Blue Eyes whirled back in and had five beers pulled before Dare straightened himself from his slump against the bar. She swapped beer for coins as she worked her way along. Then she was in front of him.
    ‘Sorry about that. Dare Cornish, wasn’t it? I’m Lucky Percival.’ She extended her hand and he shook it. Her grasp was firm, strong, callused. A working hand. ‘So, you need a room because no one bothered to let you know the station was a bomb site?’
    ‘You know who I am?’
    She gave a quick nod. ‘Cop’s eyes. Cop’s stance. Everyone knew who you were the minute you opened the door and surveyed the scene, categorising everyone in here.’ Her look was haughty. No way was he going to get laid by her—or her voice—and that sent a shaft of disappointment through his heart.
    He folded his arms across his chest, then quickly shoved them into his pockets instead. No way was he being defensive.
    ‘Right. Well.’ He nodded to the area over his left shoulder. ‘A problem you often have?’
    She gave him a look. Eyes hard, harder than before. Her lips, which had been lusciously plump, were pulled into such a tight line they almost vanished from her face. Her nose was the only soft feature. Sort of a button. With freckles. He found his cheek twitching and covered it by wiping his face with his hand.
    ‘I guess not,’ he said.
    After quelling him with that look, she handed him a key. ‘Your room’s out back, room seven. It’s right at the back so it should be quiet. Go through the pub, out the back door, follow the path to the left all the way. It’s the only stone cottage away from the pub. You’ll go past a run of six single rooms then walk by a few trees and it’ll be yours.’ She gave him a nod. ‘Dinner’s through there.’ She pointed to a room off to the right beyond the end of the bar. ‘Meals between six and nine pm. If you need me to keep one for you, ring and ask. There’s milk and tea, coffee, snacks in the room. Breakfast will be in the dining room at whatever time you want it. So let me know the night before and we’ll have it ready for you. Or if you want, you can take cereal and toast and look after yourself. If you need lunch, let me know what and when and again, we’ll get it organised for you.’
    Efficient. Professional. Aloof.
    Everything she should be. Yet not what he wanted at all.
    Why did he have to want her? He mentally shook his head. It was the conquest, and her unavailability. He’d get over it. Over her. Quickly.
    ‘Right. Thanks. I’ll get settled then let you know about food.’
    ‘And a tip—’ She hesitated until he gave her his attention. Bloody compelling scrap of a woman. ‘We haven’t had a cop here for years, so take it easy.’
    More advice. Just what he didn’t need.
    He gave a curt nod and left to find his room—probably one of the damned sheds.
    ***
    Dare opened his mouth, distracting Lucky’s thoughts. They were in the dining room for breakfast. In the pub, not that you’d know with cop calls coming in at all hours. It’d been like that for the fortnight Dare had been in town, living at the pub. Bloody man. A perfectly cut square of toast, carefully laden with bacon cut to fit and a generous pile of scrambled eggs, made their way into his decadent mouth. His lips closed over the fork and she couldn’t drag her gaze away. Heat pooled