Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1) (14 page)

“What the fuck!”

“Turn around!” Jo’s
don’t screw with me
voice had the grown man turning around.

D-Man spread his hands on a table as if he’d been in the position before. After a quick frisk and the removal of a pocket knife, Jo cuffed him and turned to another biker and did the same thing.

When she was done, there were three strangers with their hands tied behind their backs. Luke, Wyatt, and a local by the name of Matt stood in a broken bar that had been vacated by everyone other than those involved in the fight and the employees.

“I don’t even have room for all you shits in my squad car.”

One of the bikers laughed.

She turned on him, pointed. “Emery, get them back to the station.”

D-Man lifted his chin toward Wyatt. “What the fuck about them? Playing favorites, Sheriff?”

One of the other bikers muttered, “Probably fucking them.”

Luke started toward the cuffed man.

Wyatt stopped Luke from moving.

Jo took one look at them and narrowed her gaze. “You drive him to the station and wait for me,” she ordered Wyatt. “Matt, you’ve been drinking?”

“Uhm . . . yeah.”

She nodded toward Wyatt. “You ride with them.” She took Luke by the shoulders with a shake. “When you get there, you pour yourself a big cup of black coffee, sit the hell down, and don’t plan on getting up until I say . . . got it?”

“Jesus, Jo—”

“It’s Sheriff Ward right now, Mr. Miller.”

“C’mon, Luke. Do as Jo says,” Wyatt said, taking Luke by the elbow.

“Sheriff Ward, Mr. Gibson. And I expect the same of you. No one goes anywhere until I figure this mess out.”

“Got it.”

Before Wyatt could take a step, Jo asked, “You been drinking, Wyatt?”

“Half a beer,” he told her.

Jo glanced at Josie, who nodded.

“Get out of here,” she said before turning back toward the others.

Wyatt didn’t make her say it twice.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“A bar fight.” Melanie stood with her hands perched on her hips, her gaze shifting from one bruised face to another. Luke looked like he’d had a one-on-one with a prizefighter. The red, angry welts would prove to be every color of the rainbow by morning. He nursed a split lip with a bag of ice that he alternated between his face and the top of his head. The man was still drunk a good hour after Jo had forced them back to the station. Wyatt had a cut above his right eye and bruising on the left side of his jaw. At least he looked sober.

Jo called Melanie to help with the triage of the deviant testosterone-charged men.

Matt sat in the corner, his head in his hands, an angry wife at his side.

“A bar fight,” she said a second time for good measure.

Melanie had ignored the drunken comments as she walked into the back room, but took note of the unfamiliar faces as she passed them by.

She opened the first aid kit Jo had handed her before pointing her toward the men.

She removed a jar of Betadine and poured a generous portion onto a gauze pad and pushed Luke’s hand away from his face before mopping up some of the mess.

“Ouch!”

“You can’t feel too much with the amount of alcohol swimming in your veins.”

Luke pulled away and winced as his back hit the wall.

Melanie moved to his side and pushed up the edge of his shirt. Sure enough, there was a scratch taking up the left side of his back, complete with what looked like a couple of decent size splinters from a broken table.

“Good Lord. Poor Josie. I bet her place is jacked.”

“Poor Josie, what about me?” Luke asked.

Melanie rolled her eyes and helped Luke out of his shirt.

She fumbled through the first aid kit and found a pair of tweezers. With more than a little bit of pleasure, she poured hydrogen peroxide over Luke’s back and watched a grown man whimper. “And Jo . . . you know how hard it is for her to police this town. The last thing she needs to do is pull your sorry ass in here.”

“They started it,” Wyatt said from his quiet corner in the room.

Melanie stopped picking at the wood in Luke’s back and glared. “You sound like a teenager.”

“It’s true,” Luke said.

“I don’t think it matters to Jo. Everyone throwing punches gets hauled in. That’s what she said on the phone.”

“Jeez, Mel . . . be careful back there,” Luke whined.

“Suck it up.” She was less than gentle but managed to get the splinters out before placing a generous amount of medicated cream on his back, along with a bandage.

She moved to Wyatt.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re bleeding.”

“It’s stopped.” He pulled the gauze away from the cut above his eye to prove it.

It looked like he could use a stitch or two.

“Needs to be cleaned,” she told him.

He hissed but didn’t pull away when she saturated the cut with hydrogen peroxide. Wyatt kept watch with his one good eye as she removed the clotted blood and cleaned him. “I think this needs a stitch.”

“I’m sure there’s a butterfly in there,” Wyatt said.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s fine, Mel.”

She dug again, found a fancy bandage to hold the edges of his eyebrow together. When she finished, she placed a large Band-Aid over the whole thing. “Anything else?” she asked, poking his shoulders and glancing at his back.

“If you want to take my shirt off, go ahead. But I think I’m good.” He was smiling at her.

“Brat.”

He managed a wink with his bad eye.

Jo strode into their room a few minutes later, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Next time take the fight outside. Did you see the damage to R&B’s?”

“They started it, Jo!” Luke took one look at Jo and added, “Sheriff.”

“Yeah, well, several people saw you fall into that jackass. Ty’s friends said you rushed him.”

“That’s crap—”

She waved off Wyatt’s comment. “Doesn’t matter. They’re screaming self-defense and you yourself said you tried to stop the fight, Wyatt. Putting your hands on someone first.”

“But—”

She stopped him with a hand in the air. “It’s all a ‘he said, he said’ game. Comes down to one thing . . . are you pressing charges?” Jo looked between them. “And before you answer, know that if you press charges, they will press charges, and Josie will have to go that route as well. Right now she’s willing to let it rest as long as you guys promise to repair the damage.”

“Even those yahoos out there?” Matt asked.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone is booked, or no one is booked.”

Wyatt hedged his arm toward Luke, nodded at Matt. “We’ll make sure Josie’s taken care of.”

“Good choice,” Jo said before twisting around and marching out of the room.

It took ten minutes for Jo to clear out the bikers and return to them. Matt’s wife promptly stormed out of the station, her husband in tow.

When it was just the four of them in the room alone, Jo shook her finger at both of them. “Don’t ever make me fucking arrest you. Damn, Luke . . . what were you thinking?”

“I’m blaming the liquor.”

“It’s not even midnight,” Jo pointed out.

“Yeah. It won’t happen again, Jo.”

Melanie saw a cloud pass over Luke’s eyes and she knew the reason behind the alcohol.

“And you,” Jo pointed at Wyatt.

Wyatt didn’t offer a liquor excuse. “Can’t watch a friend take a beating, Jo. If you need to cuff me, do it. I won’t hold it against you.”

Jo’s chest heaved with every breath she took. “Take them home, Mel.”

Then she was gone.

Melanie dropped Luke off first since he lived close, then drove Wyatt to R&B’s to retrieve his truck.

A sign on the door said the bar was closed until further notice.

Mel parked next to Wyatt’s truck. “Is it that bad in there?” she asked.

“It didn’t look good.”

Wyatt didn’t rush to leave Miss Gina’s van.

“Luke was torn up about Zoe, wasn’t he?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Man code.”

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it however you need to, darlin’.”

“I guess it’s probably good you were here then.”

“Tell my head that in the morning.”

“Is it bad?”

A mischievous smile spread over his face. “Might have a concussion.”

She regarded him with caution. “A concussion.”

“Yeah, the kind that needs someone to keep me awake all night.”

“Holy . . . you did not just say that.”

He laughed and opened the door. “C’mon, give me a hand with Luke’s bike.”

She followed him out in the cool night, let the headlights of Miss Gina’s van light the parking lot.

Wyatt removed a ladder from the side of his truck and used it as a ramp for Luke’s motorcycle.

Melanie helped with the straps to keep it in place before Wyatt closed the tailgate. “That should do it.”

She wiped the dust from her hands. “You’re okay from here?” she asked.

Wyatt leaned against his truck and crooked his finger his way. “C’mere.”

She took a step closer, felt the energy change between them. When she was close enough, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for coming.”

“Jo’s my best friend,” she offered.

His grin spread. “Right.”

Melanie leaned her head into the palm of his hand that lingered on her face. When he stepped closer, she met him halfway and lifted on her toes to reach his kiss.

Who knew the swelling in her belly could explode with such a simple touch. But Wyatt’s kiss unleashed a crash of feeling she couldn’t describe. With a moan, she closed her eyes and pressed her tongue against the edge of his lips.

Wyatt opened for her and took control. He spread his hands along her back and pulled her flush against his body. From knees to lips, he was everywhere. His hands took their time caressing her waist before finding the edges of her breasts.

Her knees buckled and Wyatt turned and sandwiched her between him and the truck. The hardness of him pressed against her stomach, giving all the evidence she needed of her effect on him. And she liked it. Only when she filled her palm with the globe of his firm butt did Wyatt pull away from her lips with a groan. “Come home with me,” he whispered.

She wanted to . . .

“The inn has guests. Hope . . . Miss Gina.”

Wyatt leaned his forehead against hers and winced.

“Poor baby,” she said, giggling.

For a moment he just held her and didn’t attempt to kiss her again.

“We should probably go.”

He gave one more lingering kiss before releasing his hold.

With weak knees and a speeding heart, Melanie slid behind the wheel of the van and let Wyatt close the door behind her.

“Thanks again,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

He tapped the side of the van as she drove away.

“I suddenly don’t feel so bad.” Wyatt took one look at Luke and winced. Purple was the predominant color of his face with a bright bluish-red spot on the left of his head. If you didn’t know Luke, you might not catch the extent of swelling, but you’d definitely know he didn’t look right.

“I can’t tell how much of this is hangover or broken crap underneath.”

The hour rounded on noon, removing some of the hangover time Luke suggested.

R&B’s would normally hold a handful of people at this hour but today held only a small crew destined to serve their community service for a night of crime. At least that was how Wyatt painted the picture in his brain.

“There you are.” Josie walked from the bar, hands on hips, attitude in her stride. “I thought I was going to have to call Jo.”

While Josie’s words were stern, her smile was anything but.

“Cut the crap, Josie,” Luke told her as he made his way up the steps to the bar and pulled her into a half hug.

“You look like someone drug you behind their truck on a rope for a good ten miles.”

“That’s about how I feel.”

Josie nudged his hip with her own. “I probably should have cut you off.”

“I doubt that would have helped,” Wyatt said. “The place was charged last night.”

Josie had her long brown hair twisted into a braid. Her jean shorts shouldn’t look as good as they did on a woman in her midforties, but Wyatt had to admit, they did. “Matt’s inside cleaning up.”

“I’m going to make a run to the Eugene hardware store when I leave here. Try and get you back up and running by tomorrow night.”

Luke was already inside, Wyatt right behind him.

Matt stood in the center of the room with a broom. Some of the tables that still had all their legs had been placed to rights. Those that couldn’t be salvaged were still where last night’s fight had left them. A big pile of glass had been mounded up on the floor, the smell of stale beer more pungent than on any given Saturday night.

Luke let out a long-winded whistle. “I didn’t remember it being this bad.”

“You were drunk,” Josie reminded him.

Wyatt placed a hand on Josie’s back. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry . . . if I hadn’t asked you to stick around until Jo got here, this might not have happened.”

Wyatt had already considered that. “It is what it is, darlin’.”

Josie offered a smile. “I’ve already ordered replacement glassware. There’s a restaurant and bar warehouse in Eugene that supplies my tables and I’ve already given them a call. If you can go and pick them up, that would be great.”

For the next hour, Wyatt, Matt, and Luke cleared out the dozen tables and chairs that were unsavable, cleaned the room, and mopped up the liquor that had fallen in sheets on the walls and stuck.

Wyatt took note of a couple of holes in the walls. A little drywall and paint would show up the rest of the bar. It was really hard for him to do anything halfway, but since Josie was already paying for the broken glassware and helping with the tables and chairs, it was the right thing to do. He already knew Luke would be on board with helping with the manual labor.

Outside, the gravel kicked up from the parking lot, which prompted Josie to step out while they finished the cleanup.

“Lunch is here,” Josie said when she walked back in.

Melanie had her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and her short shorts hid enough of her ass to keep him guessing, but not enough to think she was trying to hide something.

He licked his lips and leaned the broom in his hands against the wall.

Hope ran in behind her mom and wrapped an arm around Wyatt’s waist before he could say hello. Her tiny arms felt strange and strangely comforting. “Mommy said you were hurt.”

He knelt down and leveled his face with hers. “I’m okay.”

Hope’s tiny smile fell and her hand reached to touch the tender spot above his eye. Wyatt held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t push too hard and make him wince.

He didn’t need to worry.

“That looks bad.”

He glanced at Melanie, who was watching the exchange. “Your mom took good care of me.”

Hope leaned in, lowered her voice. “Did she put that stingy stuff on you?”

Wyatt made a silly face and nodded.

“We should probably take that away from her, huh?”

Holding back his laugh at the seriousness of Hope’s face was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.