Her Alpha Saviors [The Hot Millionaires #2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (7 page)

Old Claude, a local farmer, leaned across the bar and spoke to her in a theatrical whisper that was loud enough for the entire bar to hear.

“Is that them then?” he asked, nodding toward the restaurant, not looking especially impressed by what he saw. “Are they the ones what are going to save The Fox?”

“I hope so, Claude,” she said, ensuring that her voice carried to some of the other barflies, hoping they’d get the message. “If they come in here, I need you all to tell them what a great place it is. How the village wouldn’t be the same without it.”

“Well, it wouldn’t, would it,” Claude said with irrefutable logic. “The Fox
is part of our community.”

Hannah and her husband took the stools next to Claude. “You leave it to us, love,” Hannah said, patting Skye’s hand. “We’ll soon let ’em know what’s what.”

That was what Skye was worried about. Hannah was so loyal, so protective of Skye that she’d probably go too far. Still, better to have them singing her praises than complaining about The Fox’s
many shortcomings, such as a lack of a jukebox and no karaoke nights—just two of the elements missing, according to the younger crowd.

The door opened and Peter, her ex, strolled in arm in arm with Annie. She was really glad that the two of them had gotten together. He deserved to be happy, and Annie was just the person to make him so. She and Peter now got along just fine, the arguments that had soured their relationship no longer an issue.

“Hey, Annie,” she said, pouring a half of lager for her dart-playing teammate without needing to be asked what she wanted. “How’s things?”

“Fine. Peter and I are thinking of buying that cottage that’s come up for sale on Bridge Street.”

“That’s great,” Skye said, meaning it. “It would be the perfect home for you both.”

“It’ll be a good investment,” Peter said.

Skye valiantly refrained from rolling her eyes. Peter was an estate agent so he was bound to think that way, but it wouldn’t kill him to go along with Annie’s excitement and leave the fiscal side of things out of it.

“Pint for you, Peter?” she asked. “We have Speckled Hen on special this week.”

“Is that the Yanks?” he asked, nodding toward the restaurant.

“Yes. I thought they were coming tomorrow, which was a bit embarrassing.”

“That’s what they said on the phone.”

Of course, now Skye remembered. It was Peter who’d taken the message. “Well, it doesn’t matter. They’re here now, so fingers crossed.”

“Here’s the opposition,” Annie said when the door opened again. “We’re on first, Skye.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” She lifted the bar hatch and stepped round Peter, who was slow to move out of her way. “Won’t be long, Kevin,” she said. “This lot are too good for us, so I’ll soon be back to help you before you know it.”

“Defeatist!” Annie said, nudging Skye painfully in the ribs.

* * * *

Jay and Luke could see the bar from their restaurant table and watched the activity there with interest. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, the atmosphere relaxed and the barman rushed off his feet.

“It is kinda cosy,” Luke said.

“She never stops, does she?” Jay rubbed the back of his neck. “Skye, I mean. She’s constantly on the lookout for anything that’s amiss. Did you see when she walked through the restaurant how she was checking things out, without making it obvious?”

“I thought that would impress you. Isn’t that what experienced managers are supposed to do?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jay drained his wineglass. “Are you done?” Luke nodded. “Let’s go and join the fray and see what shakes loose.”

The dart match was already underway when the guys strolled into the bar. It was a serious business, judging by the hush that had fallen over the place. They paused to watch Skye throwing.

“She’s not bad,” Luke said.

“Isn’t she?” Jay grinned. “I wasn’t watching her throwing action.”

“You have action of a different nature in mind for her?”

“I have a bet to win.”

A burst of applause brought their attention back to the game. The opposition had just won the first leg.

“Oh dear!”

Jay grinned at Skye when she glanced his way and shrugged.

They found a couple of vacant seats at the bar, from which they could still watch the game. They were besieged by locals singing the praises of The Fox
in general and Skye’s management of it in particular. They were laughingly transparent.

“Skye’s obviously primed them,” Luke said when they were briefly alone.

“She deserves to have her butt spanked for that.” Jay groaned as he watched her bend to pick up a fallen dart and the butt in question was briefly displayed for his perusal.

“I don’t think you’re the only one with something like that in mind.”

“All the guys here seem interested in the game.” Jay grinned. “They must be sports fans.”

“Yeah, but that guy at the end of the bar hasn’t taken his eyes off Skye since she started playing.”

Jay glanced at the man who’d caught Luke’s attention. He was tall and thin, probably midthirties with a shock of thinning sandy hair and translucent eyes that did indeed follow Skye’s every move. Jay disliked him on sight. There was something off about him.

“Skye’s game’s over.” Luke nodded to the four women shaking hands. “Don’t think she won.”

Before Jay could answer, Skye stopped by their stools. “They were too good for us,” she said, not looking particularly upset to have been beaten.

Luke offered her a sympathetic grin. “You gave it your best…er, shot.”

“Was your meal okay?” she asked.

“It was fine,” Jay told her. “I don’t think your aggrieved waitress with a grudge against men in general doctored it in any way.” He patted his stomach. “Time will tell.”

Skye shuddered. “Don’t even joke about such things.” She glanced across the bar. “Look, excuse me, doesn’t look like Kevin’s coping too well. I’d better give him a hand.”

They watched her bustle off. The guy Jay had taken a dislike to blocked her entrance to the bar and kept her in conversation for several minutes before she could get past him. From the way he kept shooting glances at the two of them, it was obvious they were the subject of his discourse.

“Who’s that talking to Skye?” Jay asked Claude, seated beside him.

Claude looked up and sniffed. “That? Oh, that’s Peter Brown. He and Skye used to be engaged until she had the good sense to dump him.”

“Looks to me like he’s still smitten,” Luke said.

“Nah.” Claude wiped beer froth from his mouth with the back of his hand. “The girl what played darts with Skye, that’s Annie. She and Peter are an item now.”

“No one appears to have told Peter that.”

Jay frowned as he watched Annie approach Peter and sit beside him, her hand possessively on his arm. Peter barely acknowledge her presence and continued to look exclusively at Skye.

“Now then, gentleman.” Skye leaned toward them from behind the bar and smiled. Jay wondered if she knew that the gesture pushed her breasts together and gave him a good view of her rather impressive cleavage. “Can I interest you in two pints of our guest ale, Speckled Hen?”

“Speckled what?” Luke asked, choking.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried some of the beers from independent breweries,” she said cheerfully, pouring them two pints. “That’s one of the advantages of being a free house. We’re not tied to any particular brewery.”

Jay picked up the pint she’d placed in front of him and savoured the taste.

“Not bad. I guess you Brits know a thing or two about making beer.”

“We’ve been doing it long enough,” she said, moving down the bar to serve someone else. Peter Brown’s eyes followed her, Jay noticed.

“Hi.” A pretty girl in her twenties slipped onto the stool that Claude had just vacated. “You’re the Americans, right?”

Jay and Luke admitted that they were.

“I’m Sandy. I work in the beautician’s in the village so anytime either of you are in the market for a massage—” She ran the tip of a very pink tongue along her lower lip. Her scarlet lipstick remained undisturbed. “You know where to find me.”

“You’re a regular here?” Luke asked.

“Well, sometimes. It’s a great place but a bit of a time warp. Skye needs to get some live music, or something, to give us a reason to come out here.”

“You’re here now,” Jay pointed out.

“Well, it’s always busy on darts night. Besides, we wanted to catch a glimpse of Skye’s saviours.”

“She told you we were coming?”

“No.” Sandy flapped a well-manicured hand sporting talons painted the same colour as her lips. “But she didn’t need to. This is a village. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

“Sling yer hook,” Claude said to Sandy, returning from the bathroom. “Age before beauty.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget about the massage,” she said, drifting away.

“God help us!” Jay said, shuddering.

Jay and Luke stayed in the bar until closing time, watching Skye constantly on the move—playing darts, pulling pints, chatting to the customers, pausing to throw logs on the fire, answering the phone, bringing out food for the dart players when the match was over. She didn’t stop. There didn’t seem to be anything happening in the bar that she didn’t attend to herself.

“Hell if I know where she gets her energy,” Luke said, shaking his head in admiration. “And she still looks fresh as a daisy.”

Watching her, Jay was swamped by a feeling that was totally alien to him in his business dealings. A fierce desire to protect a would-be client. Wanting to fuck her was one thing. His cock seemed to think she was highly fuckable, and who was he to argue with such an astute organ? Beneath the competent exterior she displayed to the world he was willing to bet that there was a tigress just waiting to be released. And he was the person to let it loose. But in the meantime, he was more concerned about her running herself ragged. He liked his women conscious when he took them to bed, so she couldn’t go on like this. Until he decided what to do about her ailing pub, he would ensure that she got the help she needed, courtesy of him. Not because he was going soft, but because he needed her full attention on her plans for the pub’s redevelopment.

And on him and Luke when they introduced her to their games.

With that thought in mind, he and Luke said good night to Skye as she locked the door behind the last of her customers and made their way upstairs. Jay sat on the edge of his bed, talking on his cell to the owner of a staff agency he sometimes used. It didn’t matter to him that it was almost midnight. These people were available to him 24-7. The amount they charged, they bloody well should be, but Jay expected only the best and was willing to pay for it. He told them what he needed and was assured that his request would be met first thing in the morning.

Satisfied, he threw off his clothes and headed for the bathroom. Halfway through brushing his teeth, the sound of shattering glass had him running back to his room. He skidded to a halt when he discovered the source of the commotion. Someone had thrown a rock through the window, spreading broken glass all over his bed and carpet, and he’d just narrowly avoided stepping on it in his bare feet.

“What the fuck?”

Slipping back into his shoes, Jay crushed glass into the carpet as he crossed it to pick up the rock. There was a piece of paper tied to it, obviously intended for him. He pulled it free and read it.

Yanks go home
, it said.

“Damn it!”

Jay turned the note over in his hand but found nothing to help identify the vandal on its other side. Stranger things had been known to happen, but no such luck on this occasion. He thought about calling Luke in and as quickly dismissed the idea. He obviously hadn’t been disturbed by the noise—Luke tended to go to bed and die—and there was nothing either of them could do about it until morning anyway.

Unable to sleep in a bed full of broken glass, Jay had two choices. Take a key to another room from downstairs, or knock on Skye’s door to see what light she could throw on matters.
Yeah right, that’s the only reason you want to disturb her.
Even so, it was a no-brainer. Furious as he was at the person who’d thrown the rock, he was also grateful to him. They’d given him just the opening he needed. He fully intended to find out who’d done this, of course, but first things first.

He pulled a pair of jeans on, slipped his bare feet back into his shoes, and crossed to the window. He leaned out but couldn’t see much. There was a light immediately over the pub door, which presumably Skye left on all night. Other than that, there were just a couple of lights in the parking lot immediately to the left of the pub. Apart from his own car, it was completely empty. Skye parked her battered Mini in one of the outhouses that doubled as a garage. Whoever had thrown the rock was long gone.

Grimacing, Jay pulled the drapes closed across the broken window. He’d arrange for it to be repaired first thing in the morning. It didn’t look as though it was going to rain, and in the unlikely event that an opportunistic burglar just happened to pass by this quiet backwater, he’d cut himself to death trying to get through the fragmented glass now bedded into the carpet. Jay felt comfortable about leaving it as it was until daylight.