Would he miss the work he’d done for years? Would running a bar challenge him as his job in the field had?
Change was good, he reminded himself. Life had grown stagnant … until Claire showed up at the RV park and turned his world upside down.
“You ready for another beer?” Gary the bartender was back and serving drinks with a smile after having a couple nights off to enjoy his own holiday fun.
“Thanks, but not yet.”
Mac searched for Claire, finding her over by the jukebox talking to Ronnie and Natalie. The three of them were serving drinks tonight, but the crowd was light, allowing more time to hang out at the bar and share laughs—which were plentiful now that the diamond killer had been hauled off by the FBI.
Butch had figured tonight would be quieter due to most folks being back to work, trying to recover from the double wallop of Christmas and New Year’s on their wallets and psyches. In lieu of the lower attendance, he’d decided to close early to enjoy a private family celebration after today’s excitement. They were an hour away from Butch turning off the Open sign.
Mac took a drink from his glass, tasting a hint of something sweet in the craft beer. Maybe honey? He’d visited a small brewery once, enjoying the science behind beer making. If The Shaft became his new focus, he’d like to explore brewing beer more, dabble with creating his own concoctions. He could test out the results on patrons, fine-tuning with their help.
A rhythmic creak made Mac glance over his shoulder.
Grady’s aunt with her dingle-ball accented walker paused behind him. “So, did you see Joe Martino’s iron lung?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
Mac turned and gaped at her. “How do you know about that?”
She winked. “I know a lot about plenty, including a certain pain-in-the-ass deputy.” She grabbed something from her purse that was sitting in the basket of her walker and then held her closed fist toward him.
He held his palm out and she dropped something in it. He frowned down at the wrapped butterscotch candy she’d given him.
“I have more,” she said. “Stop by the library sometime if you’re curious.”
The Shaft door opened, framing a familiar face.
When Mac looked back, Grady’s aunt was squeaking toward the jukebox. What the hell was that about?
“This seat taken?” Coop pointed at the stool next to Mac.
“It is now.” Mac turned back toward the bar.
Coop ordered a whiskey on the rocks from Gary. “Is it nice to be back on this side of the bar again?”
Mac shrugged. “I sort of like it back there.”
“You were smooth.” Coop tossed some bills on the bar, exchanging them for the tumbler of amber liquid. “A quick draw with drinks, too. Made the customers happy. Makes for good tips.”
Mac nodded. How much money would it take to purchase a couple of brew kettles? He’d need to build onto the bar, make a place for the equipment. Luckily, he knew a handywoman with building experience.
“When do you go back to Tucson?” Coop asked.
“Sunday night. Then I’m turning in my resignation.”
Coop took a drink. “No shit. Then what?”
“Jackrabbit Junction full time, I guess.”
Coop chuckled. “The women around here will scramble your brains.”
“It’s too late for me. But not you. When do you head back to Deadwood?”
“Friday morning.”
“Back to catching the bad guys?”
“Something like that.” The detective smiled, downing more of his drink.
Mac took a hit off his beer. Something was different about Coop tonight. His smile came easy, for one thing. But the change went deeper. He couldn’t pinpoint how he knew, but maybe it was the vibes rolling off the detective. Vibes? Now he was starting to sound like Claire and Jessica. Oh hell, things would only slide further south with him living here full time.
He smiled, too, and tipped his beer again.
But back to Coop.
Judging by the laid-back grin on his face, one would never guess the guy had been shot and nearly burned to death in the last forty-eight hours. Now that he thought about it, though, someone else had been extra happy tonight, singing and dancing as she’d served drinks. He’d attributed it to the diamond killer no longer being a threat, but maybe it was something else.
Or someone else.
Mac turned, looking for Natalie. She was easy to find, because she was making her way toward them. Her eyes were bright, her face glowed, and her focus was locked onto the guy sitting next to him.
Bingo.
He turned back to Coop. “Congratulations.”
Coop’s brow rose. “On going back to work?”
“On reaching the end of a dry spell.”
Natalie joined them, setting her tray on the bar. “No orders, Gary,” she said when the bartender looked her way. “I just stopped to visit.”
The heated stare that passed between Natalie and Coop confirmed Mac’s suspicion.
“I’m guessing that Natalie told you about her and Kate’s excitement today in Yuccaville on their way to get ice cream,” Mac said, interrupting their steamy moment.
Coop cursed, raising his glass. “They’re both crazy.”
“Shhhh.” Natalie stole Coop’s drink from him. “Kate put a bullet in a guy today for using the C-word. You don’t need to get shot twice on this trip.” She downed the remaining finger or two of whiskey before handing the glass back. “Oops, I stole it all, Detective Cooper. If it makes you feel any better, you can try to read me my rights later.”
Coop grinned up at her. “I’ll do more than try, Beals.”
“Yeah, well the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. We’ll see how far you make it this time.” She patted Mac on the shoulder. “Keep Coop out of trouble. I have big plans for him later and don’t need him facing down death again.”
She left, heading over to where Ronnie was talking to Grady’s sister.
Mac waved to the bartender. “Gary, another whiskey for the sucker sitting next to me, please.”
“That obvious, huh?”
