13. The Sea Witch

Embers of desire had been crackling in Hailey's bloodstream, threatening to spark to life with the slightest stirring of breath. And spark they did when Noah's eyes moved across her body like he hadn't eaten in weeks and she was his next meal. And she liked it.

After watching him in his element for hours, lust licked through her veins. His easy, fluid movements and the way he took command intoxicated her, and she yearned to have him take command of her. She was dangerously drunk on Noah Hunnicutt. So drunk that she was ready to lie down on a silver platter and offer herself up. Hell, she didn't even need a platter. The floor or the wall or his desk would do just fine, thank you very much. She was like every other woman in the bar tonight drooling over him, except that she was the lucky one he was currently fixed on.

While his green-fire eyes held hers, strong fingers tunneled their way under the silly pigtails. A tussle seemed to take place in those orbs, as if desire battled restraint. It was time to tip the scales in her favor. She cradled his square jaw and drew his mouth to hers, using the lightest of touches, giving him a chance to pull back, praying the entire way he wouldn't. His lids closed, and she nearly let out a happy sigh. Letting her own drop, she narrowed her attention on the familiar spicy, woodsy-soap scent of his skin and his surprisingly gentle lips landing on hers. The first warm brushes were tentative, a little test and a little taste, leaving her eager for more. Her heart jumped for joy when his hands reached for her face, tilting her head to line it up the way he wanted. His lips stroked hers with deliberate, sensual, savoring slides.

God, yes!

She'd been imagining what it would be like to have her lips collide with Noah's from the time he'd taken charge on Coal Bank Pass, but the real deal blew away those expectations. Giving herself over, she became pliable putty in his rough hands.

He traced the seam of her lips, and she opened for him. A switch between them seemed to flip when his tongue touched hers. He tasted of smoky whiskey and spice and Noah. Her ability to form a logical thought fled. She let herself get carried along a current of sensation, vaguely aware of a door opening.

A gasp shocked her into awareness like a spill into cold water without a wet suit. Noah released her abruptly and spun toward the door, putting distance between them. Dazed, with no breath left in her lungs, Hailey stepped back, placed her hand to her mouth as though she could hide their nuclear kissing, and followed his gaze toward the noise.

Dixie stood in the doorway. "I'm so sorry." A hint of a smile at the corner of the woman's mouth contradicted the apology.

Chest heaving, Noah placed one hand on his hip and motioned between himself and Hailey with the other. "We were just, ah, um …"

"Checking on the dog!" Hailey spewed.

Dixie's eyebrows rode up and disappeared under her hair-sprayed bangs. "In the office?" Her eyes took an obligatory tour of the space before shifting between the two of them. She seemed to wrestle with a smirk. "Yeah, that's exactly what it looked like." Lowering her head, she gave Noah a look from under those painted-on brows. "Boss, we need you back at the bar. The next wave has come in, and they are a thirsty bunch."

"Yeah, okay. Be right there," Noah rasped.

She turned to leave and sent him another look over her shoulder. "And you might want to put on an apron so customers don't think you stashed your muddler in your jeans." With a laugh, she exited and closed the door behind her.

Slowly, Noah turned to Hailey with a sheepish look. His hair, which had been neatly combed back, was in complete disarray, as though he'd walked through a wind tunnel—or someone had thrust her fingers through it. "I, ah, shouldn't have …"

"No, I get it," Hailey hurried to say. "I shouldn't have started it." She bobbed her head as if agreeing on his behalf while she willed her thudding heart back into its regular rhythm. She refrained from cursing Dixie's terrible timing.

He raked his fingers through his strands, smoothing them into place, and ran his thumb languidly along his bottom lip. She fought the desire to lean in and suck on that lip, lifting an eyebrow and waiting for his next words instead, dying a little inside. Let me down easy, barkeep.

His mouth kicked up on one side, cocky as hell. "I'm not sure who started it, but I'm not complaining." The predatory gleam in his deep green eyes made her tummy execute a few backflips.

Hailey wasn't prone to shyness or hesitation around men she liked, but this one had her stammering. "I, um, guess we'd better get back to work before the boss docks our pay."

"I'll be out in a minute. I need to check on Cha—the dog and … make a few adjustments." His halting speech told her his self-assurance was a flimsy facade hiding how much the kiss had affected him too. Self-satisfaction fluttered inside her. He flicked a finger toward the door. "Why don't you collect more dog names from newcomers?"

"Yes, barkeep." Letting herself out, she flew past the kitchen to the ladies' room, tempted to grab one of the pitchers of ice water and dump it over her head. Safely locked in the restroom, she stared at her reflection and fanned herself with her hand before checking that her panties were intact and hadn't been incinerated.

Wow! So much heated promise packed in one interrupted kiss.

Mind, blown.

Lips, exercised.

Body, blazing.

My. God.

What would an uninterrupted series of kisses lead to? The thought she might find out later left her jelly-kneed.

Hailey waited for Noah to finish up the drinks he'd lined up for folks seated at table six, reveling in every flirty wink and smile they exchanged. Mr. Grumpy Grouch really knew how to dazzle with the charm, and she told herself not to think about past recipients of that attention—like Germaine, his biggest fan currently leaning across the bar, the dark roots of her redheaded dye job showing, squeezing her boobage together so the girls practically spilled out of her gaping wide-necked top. The floozy clutched the brim of a green glitter-infested leprechaun derby in one hand.

Hailey hitched up the floppy sleeves of her own slutty costume—again—and told herself her outfit was different because she hadn't picked it. Wouldn't be caught dead in it if Hurricane Dixie hadn't practically shoved her into it. And shove she had. Never mind that Hailey could pull it off better than Germaine and that she flashed her favorite barkeep some cleavage of her own occasionally to make sure he remembered who she was. He seemed to recall without any prodding.

"Noah," the redhead sang out, "I'd like to buy you another drink. You can wear my hat."

Hailey turned her head just in time to catch the body wiggles and eyelash flutters Germaine lavished on the poor guy as she thrust the green derby at him.

Noah looked up from his cocktail assembly line. "Appreciate it, Germaine. I'll add it to your tab." He bent his head, accepting the hat she plopped on it. It was too small, but it sat at a rakish angle that had Germaine falling into a fit of giggles.

Another drink? When did she buy the first one? And how many was this one?

Hailey bit her bottom lip and told herself to ignore the unexpected sting of jealousy. Being a good businessman, he would accept the drinks because they added to his bottom line, right? Hopefully he wasn't in the habit of accepting other gifts from his admirers, festive derby aside.

Germaine tugged on a hank of her unnaturally red hair and sent Hailey a self-satisfied smirk. Hailey responded with a nonchalant shrug, as if to tell Germaine, "I'm only waitstaff, so why would I care?" In truth, though, her confidence had been fueled by the fact that she was the one whose mouth his tongue had been ready to map a mere thirty minutes ago.

Take that, Germaine.

But damn, Hailey didn't like being in a horse race. Competing on the waves against other athletes was one the thing, but against other women? For a man? Not her jam. Too many fish swam in the sea for her to get stuck on one alpha male all the bitches panted after.

Shit, and now she was mixing her Wild Kingdom metaphors. She needed to unscramble the hormones taking possession of her brain like escapees from a zombie apocalypse movie. She also needed to think beyond tonight and plan her return to Montrose, though her wanton side was thumbing its proverbial nose at her. It wanted what it wanted, namely the hunky bartender with a kiss that had the power to melt Lambert Glacier. She had high hopes he would keep her busy after they were off duty tonight—sleep was overrated—dismissing the disturbing possibility that he had his pick of playmates.

Meanwhile, she watched him prepare the orders with unabashed admiration. The guy was good at what he did, and she enjoyed watching a pro at work. Then there was the hotness factor: his sage-green T-shirt with his bar's logo on it exposed corded forearms and chiseled biceps she wanted to get her hands on again. It clung to his carved pecs and those broad shoulders, adding to the total package of masculine perfection. Who knew a guy in a T-shirt and jeans could look so … delectable?

Whew! Was it growing warm in the packed bar, or was it the sizzling specimen in front of her? She looked over the restaurant patrons, letting their revelry add to her own. This was how it was supposed to be. Taverns were where a town's heart beat. They were the public houses, the gathering places for neighbors to congregate and feel they were part of something big and meaningful. The Miners Tavern served that role. It was an important cog in this tiny town, and those cogs meant something to the cohesiveness of a community. A coffee shop or general store served the same purpose to a lesser degree … and so could a bookstore. But could a tiny bookstore serve the same purpose in a city the size of Denver? And why was this a question breaking through her consciousness?

Noah brought her focus back to earth with a go-ahead nod, mouthing, "You're doing a great job."

Heat raced up her neck and spread across her face like a beacon, annoying the hell out of her. Did she have to be so obvious? She dipped her head and began loading her tray with the freshly made drinks. A dark-skinned woman with glossy black hair, soft brown eyes, and perfect cheekbones slid onto the barstool on Hailey's other side and sent Noah a shy smile and a wave.

Gawd, another Noah Hunnicutt playmate candidate!Hailey suppressed an eye-roll.

He beamed his exotic customer one of his dazzlers and swiped at the polished swath of bar in front of her with a clean towel. "Hey, Amy. It's always good to see you. Looking for Micky?"

Hailey let go a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Found him. He said you were shorthanded, so I thought I'd chip in, if you want to put me to work."

"God, yes!" Still addressing Amy, he pointed toward Hailey. "Amy Caufield, meet Hailey Bailey. Hailey's been busting her ass helping us out tonight."

Amy made a quick sweep of Hailey's getup. "Please tell me I don't have to wear a wench costume, Noah." Before Hailey could muster offense, Amy placed a warm hand on her forearm. "It looks dynamite on you, but me? Not only would I overflow in all the wrong places, but I'm on the opposite end of the spectrum from ‘Irish colleen.' One look, and customers would step on each other trying to run out the door." She let out a trilling laugh that made Hailey like her instantly.

Meanwhile, Noah roamed an appreciative gaze over Hailey's face to her neck and below. She could practically feel the caress on her skin. When his eyes met hers again, they smoldered. "No, Amy, you're fine as is. One hoochie mama is enough."

Tingles raced along Hailey's spine, raising goose bumps. She knee-jerked by blurting, "Amy, you'd pull them in like flies to honey, girlfriend." She could have sworn a blush rose under Amy's smooth mocha-colored complexion.

Noah lifted his chin toward the front door. "Amy owns Mountain Coffee just a block down."

Amy bobbed her head. "So I'm used to serving Noah's customers, only they're usually a lot grumpier when I see them."

Dixie materialized in their midst. "Because the sun isn't even up yet when they stop at your place. If God had meant for us to be up that early, He wouldn't have given us eyelids that close." She rolled her eyes dramatically while Hailey checked for a Harry Potter portkey that would allow the woman to move through time and space without so much as a ripple.

Dixie patted Amy's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get you an apron and something to tie your hair back with."

Amy dug a scrunchie from a pocket. "I came prepared."

With an amused inner headshake, Hailey deposited the dog-name box on her tray, hefted it, and snaked her way toward an exuberant group of guys seated at one of the big tables, who gave her a rousing wolf-whistle welcome. Unloading their drinks, she felt a pair of eyes weighing on her from across the room and looked up to see a stunning brunette studying her from the stairs leading to the mezzanine. Those steps had been chained off from the time Hailey had entered the bar with Charlie, yet here this woman was, standing on a riser beside the slack links as though she owned the stairwell and was holding court over the crowd. Regal and haughty as hell.

She wore tight blue jeans that highlighted long, shapely legs and tucked into a pair of pristine turquoise cowboy boots. Dressed in an equally snug buttercream leather vest adorned with silver and turquoise beading, she flaunted tanned arms. She appeared to have on nothing beneath the vest, exposing an equally flawless décolletage and pillowed breasts divided by a chasm of cleavage. One upper arm featured a silver band that accentuated her toned bicep. The woman reminded Hailey of a country singer—a successful country singer—with tresses that landed at her cinched waist in perfect spirals.

The beauty flagged her over, and Hailey sucked in a breath and headed her way. She had no idea who the woman was, but the hairs along her neck and arms stood on end like red warning flags staked in the sand at a stormy beach.

Hailey slid the box from her tray and held it out to the woman. "Care to name the boss's dog? If he picks your entry, you could win a gift certificate to eat free at the Miners Tavern."

Narrowed eyes swept Hailey from top to bottom, and a cool smirk curved the woman's full mouth. "I'm sure I don't need a gift certificate to eat here for free. But seriously? The boss's dog? Are we talking about the same ‘boss'?" Her voice had a smoky quality to it that was both sexy and intimidating as hell.

Hailey jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. "Noah, the bartender."

Tilting her chin up, the woman let out a humorless laugh. She was several inches taller than Hailey, aided by those killer boots that probably didn't pinch like Hailey's heels. The move seemed to add to her height. "I know who Noah is. Better than most. We have … history. Lots of it."

Ha! Doesn't everyone?

The brunette's superior air curdled Hailey's inquisitiveness, and she found herself wanting to escape. "What can I get you?"

"You're the new one, aren't you?"

New one what? "If you mean server, then no. I'm only helping out tonight." Instinctively, Hailey stuck out her hand while her other hand clutched the empty tray. "I'm Hailey."

The queen didn't acknowledge Hailey's clumsy attempt at a shake. "Server? I guess that's one way of putting it," she scoffed instead. "I meant his latest shiny object. Noah's like a squirrel, moving from one to the next as soon as a new toy catches his eye. And believe me, many toys catch that man's eye."

Hailey retracted her hand. "What would you like to drink? That is why you called me over, isn't it? If not, I have customers I need to get to." She waited another beat for the woman's order, willing away the prickles cascading inside her body.

"The boss knows what I like. Just tell him Ursula's usual and that I'll see him after." One imperious eyebrow arched. "Interesting watch. I've only ever seen one other like it, and it was on our maid's wrist. It was the cheapest one at the dime store and all she could afford."

In the background, a couple crooned off-key to one another on the karaoke machine, setting Hailey's teeth on edge. The decibel level had climbed to booming, and she questioned if she'd heard the woman correctly.

Her expression must have broadcast confusion because Ursula expounded in drawn-out speech, as if she were enunciating to a toddler. "The boss. Noah Hunnicutt, the delectable hunk of man meat with the fancy green eyes standing beside his brother with the fancy gray eyes. He wasn't expecting me tonight, but I was helpless to stay away when he texted how much he missed me." She puckered her lips in a pout, then slowly repeated, "Ursula. The usual. He'll know."

Ursula.Now the name evoked a different character: the villainous sea witch from The Little Mermaid. Yeah, that fit. And what the hell were fancy green or gray eyes? Ha! She'd messed up that detail: Charlie's eyes were greenish-brown—hazel—not gray. The oversight was of small consolation.

Witch Ursula wiggled a pinkie at someone over Hailey's shoulder. Hailey's head swiveled of its own volition so hard her neck crunched. A tunnel seemed to open between the partiers, and at the other end of it a gaping Charlie stared back at them. He elbowed Noah, who glanced up with a furrowed brow. The moment seemed sticky, like a suspended breath, and Noah swung his gaze to her, shook his head, and crooked his finger—or so she thought. Emerging from slow motion for a beat, Hailey poked her finger against her chest and mouthed, "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" Noah near-yelled back, nodding like a bobblehead.

Ursula hip-bumped her out of the way. "Never mind about that drink. Looks like he wants to get it for me himself."

Apparently, he hadn't been signaling Hailey. Emotions crashed inside her like a wave exploding on a rocky coastline. The ones she recognized immediately were doubt and embarrassment, but a plethora of others swirled in the mix.

Ursula paused to shoot Hailey a look over her shoulder. "You're not even his type."

"Not sure what you're assuming here or why, but I never pretended to be anyone's type," Hailey tossed back. Who was this sea witch?

Her Highness turned and strolled back to Hailey, kicking out one long leg. "Trust me, you'll thank me later. And don't feel too bad. He can be devastating when he puts his mind to it, and he gets hit on all the time. The redhead who's hanging over the bar, for instance? She's had a thing for him forever." Ursula executed a dramatic eye-roll. "She's just one of a dozen here tonight, so take a number."

"Not sure you heard me. I'm just here to serve drinks and get folks to name a dog."

As if Ursula hadn't heard Hailey's stellar comeback, she kept going. "It's pathetic, don't you think? His super fans, I mean. They're drooling like bitches in heat, hoping for a chance at Fall River's finest. That is, if they haven't already scored." A sly smile curved her nasty mouth.

Wow!What was this woman's problem, besides being unnecessarily beautiful? Dumbstruck, Hailey watched Ursula glide toward the bar before yanking her eyes away.

Like a rubbernecker unable to avert her gaze from a crash, she sneaked a covert glance while checking on a different table. Noah's silly derby now sat on Ursula's head, looking like a carefully planned fashion accessory. Not only had the sea witch commandeered the hat, but she had all the barkeep's attention. He wasn't smiling—he wasn't showing any emotion Hailey could interpret—but her lungs deflated anyway.

Solace arrived in the death glare Germaine leveled at Ursula before the redhead left her perch. With a mirthless chuckle, Hailey stood a little taller and told herself to stay above the drama. This wasn't her town; these weren't her people; she didn't belong.

With all the composure in her arsenal, Hailey shoved aside Ursula's nettled words and swung toward a table hailing her while she mentally mapped a path between bodies and tables that would keep her away from the delectable hunk of man meat's side of the bar. Let Amy work with him. Hailey would have no trouble avoiding him. Easy-peasy.

How soon was quitting time?