Page 45 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“You don’t need to come with me.” Winn paused outside Big Sam’s Saloon. “Aren’t you busy?”

Yes, I was busy. But I grabbed the door’s handle and opened it for her anyway. “After you.”

She frowned but walked inside, then I was forgotten as she soaked in every detail, from the wagon-wheel chandeliers to the seams in the wood-paneled walls.

The owners had done a major remodel about ten years ago. They’d moved to Quincy from Texas and the longhorns they’d brought along were hanging behind the bar. The tables were whiskey barrels with glass tops. The stools were upholstered in black and white cowhide.

They were playing up the Western theme for the tourists, and country music crooned from the jukebox in the corner.

I loathed Big Sam’s.

“It’s packed,” she said, scanning the room.

“Most days are in the summer.”

A few familiar faces jumped out from the crowd, and as we walked to the bar, I lifted a hand to wave at one of the guys who worked at the hardware store.

I jerked my chin to the bartender as he came over, his bald head catching the glare from the light that reflected off the mirrored liquor shelves. “Hey, John.”

“Griffin.” He reached over the bar to shake my hand. John had trimmed his white beard since the last time I’d stopped in about a month ago. It brushed against his heart instead of his protruding beer belly. “What brings you in?”

I nodded to Winn. “John, this is Winslow Covington.”

“The new chief.” He held his hand out to Winn. “Welcome to Quincy.”

“Thanks.” She shook his hand, then slid onto a stool. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Depends on the questions.”

I took the seat beside her, and before she could launch into her questions, I ordered a beer. “Bud Light for me, John. Vodka tonic for the chief.”

“I’m on duty,” she muttered as he walked away.

“Then don’t drink it.”

She shot me that stern frown again. It, like everything else with this woman, was frustratingly sexy. “This is quite the place.”

“It used to be one of the Eden family businesses. My great-uncle was Big Sam.” The new owners hadn’t changed the name, probably because it went with their cheesy theme, but that was about the only thing left from the bar it had once been.

“Used to be?”

“Sam was more about the drinking than he was about running a business. He sold it to the current owners before it went under.”

“Ah. Is John one of the owners?”

“No, the manager. But if Lily was here Sunday night, he’s your best bet at getting information. He works most weekends.”

“Can’t I just ask him? Why did you order us a drink?”

I leaned in closer, my shoulder brushing hers. “Bartenders in small towns always know what’s going on. They hear the gossip. They see the excitement. But they also protect their own. John’s a good guy but he doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t trust outsiders.”

She gritted her teeth. “Do you have to keep calling me that?”

“It’s what you are. Want to fit in? Sit here with me. Order a drink. Leave him a decent tip. You want to stop being an outsider, then get to know the community.”

“Fine.” She sighed as John returned with our drinks. “Thank you.”

He nodded as she lifted the glass to her lips, sending me a glare over the rim.