Mustang Sassy by Daire St. Denis

distract her from her problems. She grabbed the phone and dialed her friend Libby.
    “Sass?”
    “Hey, Lib. What’re you doing tonight?”
    “Me? Nothing. Why? Do you want to come over? We could watch a movie or something.”
    Sass thought about the video Millie had given her, but decided against it. She wasn’t in the mood. “I was thinking more along the lines of a beer and a game of pool at the Pit.”
    “The Pit?” Libby’s voice jumped an octave. “Yeah, I s’pose that’d be okay. I’m not a very good pool player.”
    “I know.” Sass sighed. Not for the first time, she wondered at her friendship with Libby. They were so different. Libby liked fashion, cooking, and romance novels. Sass liked…cars. But Libby’s mom had taken care of Sass after her mom died and the two of them had been inseparable, though they fought almost as much as they got along.
    “I just feel like getting out of the house because…” Sass paused. Damn. She’d almost told Libby about Carlos. Thank God she’d stopped herself in time. No one could know. Not even Libby.
    “Because?”
    “I’m starving, and there’s nothing but canned beans and condiments here.”
    “You sure you don’t want to come here? I can make you something.”
    No. The Pit would be perfect. Carlos would be there and she could pretend like there was nothing going on between the two of them. “Nah. I’m in the mood for a steak sandwich.”
    “Okay, then. Give me an hour and I’ll—”
    “Libby, I’ll be by your house to pick you up in fifteen minutes.”
    “Fifteen minutes?” Libby squeaked. “I can’t be—”
    “Lib, I’m starving and it’s the Pit we’re talking about. Just put some clothes on and I’ll be there in fifteen.”
    …
    With a beer in front of him and the crooning of Alan Jackson in the background, Jordan pretended to watch the Patriots and Jets game on the big screen. But he was really watching the crowd of locals in the Snake Pit. For a Monday night, the place seemed pretty busy. Probably because there was nothing else to do in this one-horse town. He scratched the back of his neck and took a long drink from his beer bottle. His gaze swept the room as he searched for…
    Damn. She was just some crazy slip of a girl. Gorgeous, lithe, sassy , but undoubtedly the strangest woman he’d ever met. He had to stop thinking about her. Jordan’s roving gaze stopped when it set on a guy with a dark ponytail, a goatee, and tattoos running up and down his strong forearms. Those forearms just happened to be wrapped around a buxom brunette whose neck he nuzzled.
    Rodriguez. He was the reason Jordan had come to Greenview in the first place, and Jordan hoped he might be the answer to his problems. The first time he’d seen him was in June at the Classic Muscle Car Show in Denver. When he read the information in the program on Rodriguez’s Mustang and discovered his place of employment, an idea formed. Which brought him to this point, drinking beer in this backwoods tavern with country music blaring and all his carefully laid plans gone straight out the window, but possibly replaced by something even better.
    It was time to improvise. With beer in hand, Jordan ambled over to the pool tables in the far corner of the bar and put his quarters on the edge, claiming the next game. The man had finally let go of his squeeze and was walking around the table, about to take his next shot, when his eyes met Jordan’s.
    “Hey, it’s Mr. Mustang.” He grinned. “What brings you to the Pit? Looking for the asshole that smashed your wheels?”
    “Yeah. That and a beer.”
    Rodriguez chalked his cue, bent down, lined up his shot, and sank the three ball in the corner pocket, setting himself up for the five in the other corner. He made that shot and then tried to bank the six into the side but missed. The brunette came up and draped her arms around him from behind but her eyes were assessing Jordan while a slow smile formed on her pouty