Gabe shook his head. Guess he’d gotten bitter over the years. Too many people were cruel…or just plain idiots. Unfortunately, as a law enforcement officer, he wasn’t allowed to silence stupidity with a fist.

Now there was an idea. “Excuse me, sir, you were speeding. Step out of the car, please.” One busted nose later…

Think of the paperwork he could avoid.

Leaning back in his chair, Gabe gauged the room. A good mixture, looked like. There were locals in old Carhartt jeans, Xtratuf boots, and flannel shirts over tees. The ones wearing designer jeans and fancy tops were probably tourists. The summer tourist season had begun.

Most of the tables were full. Very nice.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

The sweet, clear soprano was so utterly female his dick shot to attention. With a rueful grunt, he shifted to a more comfortable position and smiled at Bull’s new barmaid. No, not politically correct. The server.

Her shining golden hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a green T-shirt with the script: “There are two kinds of people: 1) Those who can extrapolate from incomplete data.”

It took him a second, and then a snort of laughter escaped him.

Seeing where he was looking, she grinned in delight that he’d gotten the joke.

“Good evening, Ms. Wilson.”

“In this place, using miz is ridiculous. How about Julie?” Her friendly smile could melt ice cubes.

“All right, then. How are you holding up, Julie? You look a bit tired.”

Hands occupied with a tray of empties, she puffed at a wayward strand of hair in her eyes. “This is insane, isn’t it? Thank God, Bull found another waiter. Where did all these people come from?”

“I’d guess there are some transient fishermen from the fish camps and lodges. Some tourists from the resort or wherever. The rest are locals, both from inside town and outside.”

“Outside of town?” She frowned. “Dante said there was electricity only in town and along the highway. But when I drove down the road, I didn’t see very many houses—not enough to fill the bar.”

“You can’t spot the cabins that are off the highway. And they’re dry cabins. No electricity, no water, no plumbing—and variations thereof.”

“No plumbing?” Her nose wrinkled. “They have to use an outdoor facility like an outhouse?”

Damn, she was cute.

“I’m afraid so.” He smothered a smile. All last winter, he’d bared his ass in an unheated honeypot. A man’s dangling testicles in minus-twenty-degree weather gave new meaning to freezing your balls off. “Outhouses are a necessity if you don’t like civilization.”

“People are perplexing, aren’t they?” She shook her head. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a stout—Off-the-Road.”

She beamed at him. “You didn’t even have to ask for the list. I’ll be right back.”