Sweet Tomorrows by Debbie Macomber Page A

sooner I was back at the inn, the better I’d like it.
    The bartender slid the pitcher toward the end of the bar and immediately reached for another.
    Seeing how crowded the place was and how overwhelmed the bartender seemed to be, this could take awhile. “Where’s Rover?” I shouted above the noise and racket. “If you tell me, I’ll get him myself.”
    “Got him in the back. Give me a minute, would you?”
    “Sure.” His tone told me his office was off-limits. Rover was a nuisance; I was grateful he took the time to call me and let me know where he was.
    Oh dear, if Jo Marie heard about this she would come unglued. I was unglued.
    “Put a beer for the lady on my tab,” the older biker shouted out as he crowded into the space next to me, pressing his body firmly against mine.
    I did my best to put some distance between us, although it did little good. He pushed into me as if we were cemented together. “I appreciate the offer,” I told him, avoiding eye contact, “but I need to get my dog home.”
    “Your dog’s fine where he is; no need to worry about him.”
    This biker wasn’t going to take my refusal lightly.
    The door opened and someone else came into the tavern. I glanced over my shoulder, thinking, hoping, it was someone in law enforcement. No such luck. To my surprise, it was Nick Schwartz. For one wild moment I wondered if he’d followed me, which was a ridiculous thought. He couldn’t have possibly known where I was headed or that I was even leaving the inn.
    Right away Nick’s gaze shot straight to mine and our eyes locked. He frowned and I watched as his shoulders stiffened and then rose as he exhaled.
    He didn’t say anything, but came to stand directly between me and the biker. He crossed his arms with his bulging muscles just the way he had Thursday morning when he’d glared at me from his porch. His look had intimidated me, but I had the feeling this biker wasn’t as easily put off.
    “The lady’s with me,” Nick said.
    The other biker went nose-to-nose with Nick.
    Someone killed the music, and the lack of sound was even more deafening than the blaring music had been. It seemed like the entire tavern froze. Several men, dressed in the same leather vests with similar patches, scooted back their chairs and came to stand behind Gray Beard. It was a dozen or more of them against Nick.
    I peeked around his back and bit my lower lip. “Listen, guys,” I said, hoping to avoid a confrontation. “I’m here for the dog. I don’t even like the taste of beer.”
    The bartender, not looking for a brawl to rip apart his establishment, spoke first.
    “We don’t want any trouble here, Lucifer.”
    Lucifer? Holy mother of cheesecake, the biker’s name was Lucifer. Not a good sign.
    The biker and Nick continued their stare-down; neither moved, and it didn’t look like either man drew oxygen. Or maybe that was me who’d stopped breathing.
    The bartender disappeared and returned in short order, holding Rover. “Take your dog,” he said, handing Rover over to me.
    Jo Marie’s dog looked up at me with blurry eyes. His tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. I had a horrible feeling a dog with a hangover wasn’t going to be a pretty sight.
    I gingerly stepped around Nick and gently placed my hand on his arm. He didn’t tear his eyes away from Gray Beard. “I’ll be going now,” I said, doing my best to hide my nervousness.
    “I appreciate the offer for a drink,” I continued, hoping to defuse the situation with Lucifer. “Perhaps another time.”
    “There won’t be another time,” Nick said, his eyes focused on the other man as intently as a laser beam.
    “Yeah, probably not,” I murmured, eager to make my escape. Stepping sideways to get around the men gathered behind Lucifer, I added, “I mean, it isn’t every day Rover decides to run away from home and get drunk.”
    For whatever reason, the bikers seemed to find that comment amusing, and I heard a number of chuckles.
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