Frazzled? That was one way of putting it. Natalie noticed one of her customers hailing her and headed off to see what the lady needed. While she was taking her order, the jukebox started blasting “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.”
Natalie looked up sharply at the sound of John Denver’s voice. Over by the bar Claire stared out through the order window, her eyes wide.
“Mac,” Natalie said, waving to get his attention. She pointed toward the kitchen window.
He nodded and set down the glass of beer he’d been filling, moving to the order window. As Natalie watched, Claire pulled her hands down her face, nodding at whatever he was saying.
“Do you see anyone acting funny?” Kate was back at Natalie’s elbow.
Frazzled didn’t cut it. Kate’s hair was a mess, sticking out around her face like she’d been recently electrified. Add that to her twitchy cheek and darting gaze, and Kate was one top hat with a “10/6” style tag away from joining the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
“Funny how?” Natalie asked.
“I’m trying to see if the diamond killer is here tonight.”
Natalie frowned. “You mean you played that song?”
Kate nodded. “When I talked to Tank today, he reiterated how much the killer was into John Denver. He even wore those big goofy glasses over his John Denver mask. That gave me the idea to play some of Denver’s music on the jukebox and flush him out.”
“You should have warned Claire about your plan.”
“Why?”
“Because of the note.”
“Which note?”
Behind Kate, Natalie saw The Shaft’s front door open. Coop walked inside and paused, scanning the room. His gaze locked onto Natalie. There was no mistaking the heat in his gray eyes as he unzipped his leather coat.
John Denver’s voice faded under the rush of blood in her ears. Her heart slammed against her ribs, trying to break free so it could dance around Coop’s feet, the foolish organ.
“Natalie?” Kate pressed.
Natalie shook off Coop’s spell. “Talk to your sister.” She frowned at the jukebox. “And while you’re at it, tell her you’re the one who played that dang song so she doesn’t lock herself in Butch’s office for the rest of the night.”
Natalie purposely took her time making her way to the bar. When she arrived, Mac was pouring a whiskey on the rocks into a tumbler in front of Coop.
“Let me know if you want something to eat,” Mac said before heading to the other end of the bar to help another customer.
She slid onto the stool next to Coop. “Whiskey, huh? You sure it’s okay to drink after this morning’s ER visit?” She picked up his glass and took a sip, watching him over the rim as the grain and smoky flavors passed over her tongue and burned their way down her throat.
“Are you working part-time as a nurse when you’re not waiting tables, Beals?” He took the glass when she held it out to him. His focus dipped to her mouth as he sipped from the tumbler.
She examined his face. Weary lines fanned out from his gray eyes. Stubble coated his jaw. His hair stuck up in shark fins. “Vacation is hard on you, Coop. You need to go back to Deadwood before you end up in a full body cast.”
“Why?” He set his drink down. “You plan on roughing me up before I leave on Friday, Nurse Natalie?”
She laced her fingers on the bar and tipped her head to the side, pretending to give it serious thought. “I believe I’ll start with some mild torture, locking you in my private stocks for a rough round of whipping.”
He scoffed. “That’s foreplay, not torture.”
“After that,” she continued, “I think a good stretch on the rack is in order while I find your ticklish spots with a peacock feather.”
“Peacock feathers are passé.” He took another sip of whiskey and then nudged it toward her. “How about using one of those long, iridescent green quetzal feathers that the Aztec and Maya revered?”
“I’ll take your suggestion into consideration.” She lifted the glass, swirling the amber liquid and ice. “For a grand finale, I’ll lock you into a shrew’s fiddle and make you read some of Shakespeare’s love sonnets.”
“Shrew’s fiddle? Wasn’t that a form of punishment for bickering women?”
“Sure, but I’m thinking it will work on a stubborn man just as well.” She took another sip of his drink, setting the glass down in front of him.
He watched her lick her lower lip, his eyes darkening. “Love sonnets are overrated.”
“You have a preference for romantic reading?”
“Yep. The Gunsmithing Bible 100th Edition is sexy as hell.”
She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder, giving in to her need to touch him while still keeping her hands to herself. “I don’t think I can compete with a book about guns.”
“You’re wrong,” he said after she sat upright again. He took another drink, his gaze smoldering as he set down the glass between them. “Especially if you’re naked.”
Poof! A circuit overloaded in Natalie’s brain, blowing a fuse. It took her a couple of blinks to replace the fuse. In the meantime, all of the reasons she’d avoided making a visit to his camper this afternoon circled through her mind.
Great galoots! What was she thinking, trying to out-flirt Coop? What was next in her Amazing Acts of Stupidity sideshow? Juggling lit sticks of dynamite?
“You’re an ace flirter, Coop,” she said with a brittle smile, patting his arm. “You won that round, hands down.”
His brow tightened.
“If I didn’t know your history,” she added, grabbing the whiskey glass, “I’d have swooned into your arms right then and there.” She swallowed the last of his drink, handed the tumbler to him, and stood.
“Natalie,” he said, setting the glass on the bar.
She held up her hand, stopping him. She needed to put some space between them before he kissed her and fried her whole damned electrical panel. “I need to go.”
“Where?”
To find an extinguisher. Her unmentionables
