Page 44 of The Patron Saint of Timber Hollow

Blood Sacrifices

Angel arrived for her shift as Sam and I were downstairs doing inventory. She and Ivy are behind the bar now, the crowd before them growing by the minute. It seems the first rush of the night has arrived. George usually takes one of his breaks around now, so I bet that is where he is and why the dirty glassware behind the bar continues piling up.

"Why don't you help them clear the line and then we'll do shots? I'm going to run some glasses through for them first," I say to Sam, moving behind the bar.

"Sounds like a plan!" She agrees, launching into action.

Ivy nods at me while mixing a drink when she sees me arranging glassware on the large plastic trays for the dishwasher. It'll take a few minutes to run through the machine, but it's still faster than I would manage by hand.

When I return from the kitchen with freshly cleaned glassware, I see George's head amongst the crowd. Since he's back, I head straight down to the Slap-shot corner of the bar after dropping the tray off. Sam joins me shortly after with a pitcher in tow.

Hurricane shots have been a fantastic addition to the booth. Some customers don't want to get soaked while out, but it's still popular enough that our tip jar often overflows.

I've noticed that Hurricane shots are more popular in the later hours of the night, while Slap Shots do better in the earlier rushes. Sam opens the register while I check my phone since it will be a while before I get the chance again.

Jay's message is accompanied by a picture of him holding Saint over his shoulders.

We'll see you soon, gorgeous.

Looking forward to it, handsome.

Sam sees me smirking as I put my phone away and says, "Let me guess. Are yourboy toyscoming in?"

I burst with laughter, flipping the switch to the slap—shot neon sign. Still chortling, I reply, "Sure are."

"Do they get off on pain or something?"

"Nope. The opposite, actually."

Sam's face is worth a thousand words as she simply says, "And yet, they let you slap them?"

"Yep." I deadpan, shrugging.

Sam just shakes her head with a smirk. And then, she greets the first customer in line with a sultry smile. No one can charm the pants and wallets off of people like Sam can when she's on a mission.

The next couple of hours pass in a blur. Sam and I work in tandem, churning out shots through the evening. People are tipping well tonight, which isexcellent. I have my eyes on a new special edition box set of my favorite series.

When Jay and Saint appear in line next for Slap Shots, I barely restrain myself from throwing myself across the bar for them.

Since living with the boys, I've gotten many glimpses of their various looks: workout clothes, just-left-work clothes, everyday clothes, and PJs—all of which they look amazing in.

But tonight?

Jay wears a black tee, jeans, and his favorite dark red hat backward, with several silver chains around his neck. The tattoos that line his throat beg to be kissed. Saint's arm is thrown across Jay's mountainous shoulders, his face split by a broad smile. Gold chains glint in the neon lights around his neck, at his wrist. Saint is wearing a grey tee and jeans with a belt slung through loops. His arm across Jay's shoulders exposes the line of his hips.

They're both tall but with different builds. Jay is just plainbig,his muscles pulling the shirt tight across his arms and chest. On the other hand, Saint makes me blush when he stands so close that he makesmetilt my head back to see him properly. Despite the differences, I know he can lift the same weight as Jay, having seen the boys trade sets in the gym.

My wolf cansmellthem, and it makes her want to howl. To run. To be chased. I shift on my feet.

"What will it be tonight, boys?" I ask, leaning on the bar. Jay's full lips pull into a sly grin as he rests his elbow on the bar, and I have to press the tip of my tongue to the points of my teeth to keep myself grounded.

"What would it take to getyouon the menu?" Jay croons, tilting his head to the side.

I hum, considering. "I don't know…" I pause, looking them over with a critical eye. "Your undying loyalty to start... A few blood sacrifices. You know,kid stuff."

"What does a good girl like you need with our blood, Tiny?" Saint asks, green eyes half concealed behind his eyelids, arm still slung across Jay's shoulders.

His phrasing makes me blush. I shift on my feet to relieve the sudden onslaught of tension and heat that has burned through me. Sam snorts lightly behind me while thumbing through her phone.