“I’m worried about Bear, too, but I need you. I just got off the phone with Pella. He wants us to close the trails and public campgrounds. It’s just a precaution. I’ve been monitoring the fire on the radio, and I understand why it’s making Hawke edgy.”
“What about Bear? He’s out there somewhere.”
“If we don’t close those trails and clear the campgrounds, he won’t be the only one. Clear out the hikers and tourists, and then we’ll worry about Bear.”
By the timenoon rolled around, Julian could have eaten one of Hunter’s elk, antlers, hooves, and all. Pella had been called away to deal with the wildfire, so McBride finished debriefing the last scenario without the sheriff and led them back toward the parking area, where they all piled into a waiting van and drove down to Knockers in Scarlet Springs.
A tall man with a beard met them at the door, his hair in a man bun. “Hey, Zach. Good to see you again.”
Hunter lowered his voice. “I think this guy goes to the same stylist you do, Dorkangelo.”
“Dude, I haveneverworn my hair in a bun.”
McBride clearly knew the guy. He held out a hand. “Hey, Joe. Thanks for letting us use your land today.”
Joe Moffat, the landowner.
Joe brushed off McBride’s thanks. “We sure appreciate the work you all do to help keep our town safe.”
McBride introduced them all to Joe, who, in turn, introduced his wife and the pub’s co-owner, Rain, a striking woman with roses, ivy, and skulls tattooed along her forearms. Their little daughter, Angel, rode in a carrier on her mother’s back.
“We’ve got a table saved for you over here.” Rain led them toward the far side of the pub, a stack of menus in her hands.
Julian sat, accepted a menu. “Thanks.”
Hunter glanced around, saw pool tables, a bar, a stage, and … a climbing wall? “No wonder this place is popular.”
“I think locals would tell you there’s nowhere else to go,” Rain joked, handing the last menu to McBride. “Cheyenne and Sam will be over to take your drink orders in just a moment. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Chicago-style deep dish pizza.” McBride sounded dubious. “Seriously?”
Rain overheard him, stopped, turned back. “You should try it. Victoria Hawke, the woman who runs the pizza part of the business, is from Chicago.”
“You’re on.”
A tall, blond server who said her name was Cheyenne came to take their drink order. Everyone asked for water, most complaining that they were officially on duty and couldn’t try any of the brews. A few minutes later, they overheard Cheyenne’s voice and those of two other women talking to each other nearby.
“Have you ever seen such a group of hunks?” Cheyenne said.
“I think my ovaries just exploded,” said another.
“Can I have the one with the ponytail?”
“Sure—if I can have the one sitting across from him.”
Shit.
Julian met Hunter’s gaze, spoke quietly, not wanting to embarrass anyone. “I think you have a fan club.”
Hunter grinned. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”
“Jesus fried chicken!” Deputy Marcs muttered to herself. She turned toward the women. “Hey, Chey, Sam, Marcia—thehunkscan hear you, and so can I.”
Giggles.
A moment later, Cheyenne walked up to the table, the two other women with her, each carrying a tray with glasses of ice water.
“I’m Marcia, the bartender.” A pretty woman with shoulder-length brown hair set a glass of water down in front of Hunter. “Let me know if there’sanythingyou need.”