Before, she’d had a reason to judge them. They were poor, living in a shitty part of town, wearing hand-me-down clothes from kids they went to school with. Wild River was small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s business, so trying to hide how much they struggled as kids was impossible. But he and Cassie had both come a long way.

“It’s actually an MD.”

He blew out a long, slow breath.

“And I just don’t think a bar is an appropriate place for a kid.”

He glanced at Cassie, but she just sent him a look that said, can’t win, don’t try. Seeing several regulars enter, he stood straighter and waved in greeting. A trip down memory lane with Erika was obviously not possible if the woman didn’t even remember that he and Cassie had spent far too many evenings in a corner booth in a bar while their mom worked. Their mother’s small dive bar in Willow Lake, the next, even smaller town over, had been a second home to them. They’d helped her clean up after closing almost every night and he’d worked there before he was legal. It wasn’t an ideal upbringing, but it was about survival and working together as a family.

Their way of life hadn’t been Erika’s reality. Why would she remember that not everyone had been as blessed as she was?

Obviously, she’d been successful in forgetting a lot of things.

CHAPTER FOUR

COMING TO WILD RIVER was feeling less and less like a mistake the more cranberry martinis Erika consumed, so she raised her empty glass for another.

The crazy-hot bartender she barely recognized as the scrawny, tall kid that had never particularly liked her hesitated as he dried a shot glass with a towel and she wrinkled her nose.

“Allowing dishes to air-dry is a lot more sanitary,” she said.

“Another drink it is. Maybe it will make you less annoying... So far, that hasn’t been the case, but here’s hoping the third one’s the charm,” he muttered as he reached for the shaker.

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to.” He shook the shaker and the insult was quickly forgotten as her eyes fell to his arms. Thick, sexy biceps beneath the black T-shirt held her stare far too long. Damn, they were hot. She wondered where they came from. They certainly hadn’t been there before. The Reed she remembered could barely open a pickle jar. This Reed could probably smash the jar with his bare hand. He was all mountainy strong...was that a thing? Mesmerized by the way the muscles looked flexed all the time, she jumped when he snapped a finger in front of her face.

Busted. Her cheeks flamed as bright as the tacky red garland draped along the bar. “What?”

“I said, another double?” He grinned, having caught her checking him out.

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“You want another one?” he asked Cassie.

“I don’t know... I’m feeling the first two...”

Reed grinned. “Only the first one had vodka in it. You two aren’t drunk. You’re high on sugar.”