Shotgun Honeymoon

Hands tense on the steering wheel—she needed to hang on tight to something right now—she watched Jonah sketch her a two-finger salute and peel his cruiser into a tight U-turn, returning to his third-shift prowl. Then trying not to wonder what Jonah had meant by his last cryptic remark, Janina, too, pulled back onto the road and made tracks toward the Bloated Boar Saloon.

The Bloated Boar Saloon.

July 18, 3:17 a.m.

Nothing and everything about the Bloated Boar was unique.

Situated off a dirt track in the middle of nowhere and a goodly distance from anywhere else, the Bloated Boar boasted a badly taxidermied mascot protected behind a scarred, bulletproof Plexiglas shield below the carved sign that bore the saloon’s name. The shield was bulletproofed because of weekend revelers intent on trying their luck at taking out the mascot’s shiny glass eyes.

Contrary to the stories they put out, the owners did not hail from London or anyplace resembling it, but had once had a great-aunt who was an Anglophile and who’d willed them enough money to open the Bloated Boar if they called it the Bloated Boar, decorated it to her specifications and gave it the legend she wrote for it. Tall-tale-tellin’ Texans, the lot of ’em, they’d willingly complied with the great-aunt’s request, and the Bloated Boar was now in its third generation of fake Cockney-accented or East End-accented Texans.

At various hours of the day the saloon was peopled with busty serving wenches and unsavory-looking serving pirates. There was also a full-figured barmaid who often chose to dress the part and a six-foot-six-inch ruddy-cheeked swallow-tender barman who also acted as the saloon’s bouncer.

Any number of colorful “plants” among the customers added to the atmosphere when tourists—who found the out-of-the-way place in surprising numbers—were present. Janina knew the place well as it was a favorite haunt among the locals, too. The Boar opened at 7:00 a.m. for breakfast and closed only briefly twenty-one hours later. The food was good and plentiful, the drinks ran freely, and it was a rowdy place in which to have a good time.

And for the life of her, Janina couldn’t believe Jonah had sent her to find Russ there. She’d have bet money that the overly intense Russ Levoie didn’t believe in rowdy good times, or relaxing good times, or maybe even just simple good times, come to that. She wasn’t even sure he knew how to relax and have a good time. Janina wheeled her vintage Chevy wagon into the Bloated Boar’s parking lot. Sure enough, parked well away from the scarred display box and sign sat Russ’s immaculate white Jimmy. Though a classic with a removable hard top and hardly new, the vehicle always managed to look it, despite the rough and dusty country Russ drove it through. Spoke to the man’s character, Janina was pretty sure.

She simply found an empty parking place, took a deep breath, released her seat belt as she exhaled, and launched herself on her search for Russ.

He was difficult to find in the dim light, despite the waning number of patrons left inside the pub. When she did spot him, Janina nearly dropped her charmingly crooked teeth in astonishment. Because there was Russ Levoie as she’d never thought to see him: relaxed, a pint mug of dark ale in one hand, head thrown back in laughter, with one of the lustier-looking saloon waitresses perched on his knee.

Janina saw green at once. Green-eyed monsters, green-eyed fury, a murky, jealous green haze. She also felt green moths floating in her stomach and a hot green fire roiling up through her veins. The bastard’s brother had thought he might be drunk, but if this was what it took to get him to pay attention to a woman…!

Then Janina remembered who the man she’d long wanted—forever longed for—was, who the Russ Levoie she knew was.

Swallowing hard, she made herself locate his other hand. Sure enough, it was curled loosely in a fist on the table and nowhere near the girl, who shoved herself out of his lap with apparent regret and offered him a slip of paper. He shook his head. The waitress pressed what must have been her phone number on him anyway, bending forward and tucking the bit of paper into the left front pocket of his shirt.

Janina watched something flicker across Russ’s face, not quite regret, less than revulsion, a jaw-tightening away from awkwardness, then it was gone. His lips twisted, a travesty of a smile to someone who knew him at all. The waitress twitched her hips at him as she walked away. Russ blinked and grimaced at the woman’s departure, and downed his drink in a long gulp.

Janina breathed deep and went to the bar to order two large dark beers. God help her, she was stupid when it came to Russ. She should have tackled him the way she’d done everything else in her life: head-on and face-first and a long time ago. Then she’d have known one way or another about that long-standing “if,” and she wouldn’t be standing here worrying about whether or not she had a shot with Russ. Plus, she wouldn’t be jealous over nothing if she didn’t have a chance with him.

Well, maybe she would, but then there’d be a reason for it, instead of this nebulous sensation of “get away from him, he’s mine” when actually he wasn’t. Yet. Or maybe ever.

No, she told herself firmly. Yet. Yet. Yet. Yet.

Be careful what you wish for, Tobi’s demon whispered in her ear.

“Go to hell.” Janina barely moved her lips but the barmaid eyed her askance. Janina tried a grimace, winced when the stitches pulled and shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

The barmaid grinned. “Bet I do.”

Janina shook her head. “Trust me.”

“You got it for that one?” The woman lifted her chin in Russ’s direction while she pulled Janina’s beers.

“Mmm.” Janina sighed. “Obvious?”

“Only to someone who reads the signs.” Another flashing grin from the woman tending bar. “Good luck. He’s waitin’ on something. Though he doesn’t seem to know what. Won’t cotton to anybody here, fact. Most of the girls have tried.”

“They have? He won’t?” Hope soared. She gave the barmaid a crooked smile. “Thanks. I feel like I’m in seventh grade asking for info on the varsity quarterback.”

“Eh, s’okay.” The other woman shrugged and winked. “I was in seventh grade myself last night. Good to know I’m not there alone.” She nodded at Janina’s hands and face. “Wasn’t him did that to you, was it.” Not a question exactly.

Janina’s smile tumbled in her belly, felt tremulous on her mouth. “No. He saved me.”

The barmaid grinned happily, as though Janina had confirmed something she’d long thought—and hoped. “Don’t look like you can manage these. Why don’t you go sit. I’ll bring ’em over. I’m Shelley, by the way.”

“Janina.”

Sending Shelley a grateful smile, Janina did as she’d been told, preceding the woman across the room to slide onto the bench beside Russ even as the beers were placed on the table in front of him. He didn’t even glance up.

“Thanks, but I’m still not goin’ home with you, Marg,” Russ said slowly but firmly. His words didn’t slur, but he definitely sounded too comfortable to either be the real Russ Levoie or to be Russ Levoie sober. “Doesn’t matter how many drinks I have. Told you it wouldn’t be fair to either of us, I got somebody else on my mind.”

“And I’ll bet she said it didn’t matter to her whether you’ve got someone else on your mind or not, didn’t she?” Janina asked. She thought she heard a tinge of that green-eyed thing in her voice but she couldn’t be sure. If Maddie was the other person he had on his mind what the hell was she doing here?

“Janie?” Russ cocked his head and looked at her. “What’re you doin’ here? You’re supposed to be home takin’ care of yourself. I knew I should’ve come back and made sure you did.”

Damn straight, Janina agreed silently. Saved me a trip out.

“Couldn’t sit still,” she said aloud. “Needed company. Wish you had come back. I wanted to say thank-you. Anyway, I went out looking for you, and Jonah told me you might be here, so here I am.”

Russ smiled. “That’s good,” he said simply. “I’m glad. I wanted to see you, too, but I didn’t know how to ask and I didn’t want to wake you if you were sleepin’.”

Janie’s heart flipped, and knocked aside any common sense she might still have possessed. “Really?” she whispered, as shy as she would have been if he’d noticed her way back when, hero to her hero worshipper.

Inhibitions lowered by the amount of alcohol he’d consumed, Russ turned to look at her full on. His eyes were dark, smiling, full of promise. He reached up to trace the uninjured right side of her mouth with the tip of a forefinger in the lightest of caresses. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered, so close she could taste his breath on her lips, feel the heat of him on her skin, know the touch of him throughout her body by the single contact the pad of his finger made at the edge of her mouth. “Very much. Definitely.”

Janina’s eyes drifted closed. Opened. She had to watch him. She swallowed and her own mouth seemed to float gently closer to his yet not close enough. He played with her mouth without touching it, moving as though to nuzzle her smile, teasingly pulling his own mouth back until she thought she’d go mad, until she was breathless with laughter.

“Russ,” she murmured, “what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never done this before. What am I doing?”

“What do you mean?” She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to think. She’d known being with Russ would be special and this was only a kiss, not even a kiss. “Please, Russ. You’re making me crazy. Are you going to kiss me? Please, Russ, kiss me.”

“Might.” His mouth came closer to hers and withdrew slightly. The tip of his forefinger drifted across her mouth, barely tracing the outer edge of her lips, finding the bruises, investigating more gently and carefully than she’d known it was possible for a man to touch a woman. “Don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt too much. Never want it to be me who hurts you.”

The simplicity of libido fled in the face of something else entirely.

Startled senseless by the tenderness of touch and statement, Janina blinked. Her eyes burned with sudden emotion and a lump lodged tightly in her throat. The butterflies and moths that had been churning up her stomach suddenly fuzzed into warmth at the same time that the rest of her body became suffused with the loveliest sense of chills and confusion and warmth and safety and…

And a whole lot of something more. She blinked again. The world, made up of Russ’s face, swam before her eyes. The lump in her throat dissolved, and whatever toughness she’d developed through the years puddled in Russ Levoie’s hands. Tears ran down her face and collected along the lump at her lip.

“Oh, Russ.”

“What?” His surprise was the genuine surprise of a drunken man. The distress was a drunken man’s distress, too. Normally Russ knew exactly what to do with crying women—or seemed to. “Janie, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, Russ.” Laughter and wry despair mixed with the tears this time. Janina placed her less injured left hand against Russ’s chest. “You always know what to do.”