Tank walked away to deliver the shots to the obnoxious holiday party in the corner booth and Reed poured several pints of beer. Setting them in front of some tourists a little too abruptly, the liquid sloshed onto the bar.

“Hey, first day on the job?” the guy wearing an ’80s style pro-ski club jacket asked.

The other guy snickered and Reed saw red. Picking up the glasses, he took them away. “Cut off,” he muttered.

“Hey!” Ski-Pro called out. “What the fuck, man?”

Reed’s jaw tightened. His emotions were on the surface and he felt ready to explode.

Tank intercepted, taking the glasses from him with an annoyed look. “Jesus, man,” he muttered.

Reed had seen that expression far too many times that week already. Good thing his boss was also his buddy or he would have been fired by now. He just couldn’t snap out of it. Unanswered texts, voice mail whenever he called and an overall vibe that Erika was avoiding him had him seriously on edge.

Grabbing a towel, he wiped down the bar, ignoring the sneers on the two men’s faces.

Hope they don’t plan on going into the backwoods while they’re here.

Tank refilled the glasses to the top then delivered them back to the men. “On the house.” Then, with a nod to Reed, he disappeared into the back office.

Shit.

Reed tossed the hand towel onto the bar and followed.

“Close the door,” Tank said, collecting the darts from the board on his office wall and handing him the red ones.

“Not in the mood,” Reed said, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

“But you’d rather take your shitty mood out on my paying customers?” Tank asked, still extending the darts.

Tank rarely called anyone out on anything. The guy had had enough.

Reed took the darts. “Sorry, man. I’m just...” He threw one arrow hard. It hit the edge and bounced off. “Just...argh,” he said, throwing the second one...not even close to the bull’s-eye, but throwing sharp, pointy things was helping a little.

“I’ve noticed. We all have.” Tank threw his pair, both hitting the target. He shrugged. “Sexual frustration is something I understand,” he said.

Reed retrieved all four, handing Tank the black ones, and threw his again. “It’s been days, and just two text messages...short messages.” Two brief “I’m sorry, work is crazy, we will talk soon” messages. Was this what she’d tried to tell him? Warn him about?

Two weeks ago, his heart had been aching at her leaving. Now it was breaking at the thought that with each day, she was moving farther and farther away and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn’t know what to do with the pent-up nervous energy. He’d never felt this way before.