“It’s over. I don’t love you.” He pried her fingers off. “Go home—and don’t come back.”

When she burst into tears, he hardened his heart and walked away.

As he reached the back door of the roadhouse, someone cleared their throat. Aw, fuck, someone had witnessed that clusterfuck of a scene? Hell.

“My boy, are you all right?” Lillian’s crisp British-accented voice was as clear as if she were still performing Shakespeare in London’s West End.

“Hey, you two.” Discarding the morass of his past, Bull straightened his shoulders and brought out his smile for her and the wiry, white-haired man next to her. “I’m good, yes.”

Lillian gave him a skeptical frown.

Diversion time. “You look great, Lillian.” She’d gone back to London to have knee surgery and recuperate there. Alaska winters and walkers didn’t mix well. “Tell you what—if Dante isn’t treating you right, let me know, and I’ll take his place.”

Lillian’s smile cleared the worry from her face.

“In yer dreams, boy.” Dante, Mako’s old friend, was on the downhill slide toward seventy but as tough as old shoe leather. Absently tugging on his beard, he watched as Paisley drove her car out of the lot, spewing gravel everywhere. “Would that be your ex-wife?”

So much for a diversion. “Yes, that’s her.” Bull ran his hand over his shaved skull. “Gotta admit, I was a fool. Her beauty shut my brain down completely; it took me a while to wise up.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Dante slapped his shoulder. “Eventually, you learn that what you want in a spouse is just like what you want in a teammate—someone to fight at your side. A partner who’ll have your back and can be relied on.”

The old soldier smiled down at Lillian. “A sense of humor doesn’t hurt either.”

“You knotty-pated old fool,” the Brit murmured, but the way she leaned her head against his arm contradicted the insult.

Envy ran through Bull. That easy affection was what he’d hoped to find with Paisley.

And hadn’t.

“Enjoy your evening, you two.” Bull managed a smile and pointed a finger at Dante. “Don’t you kids leave any used condoms in my parking lot.”

He walked through the door to the sound of Dante’s sputtering and Lillian’s laughter.

As he donned the denim vest that served as his roadhouse’s uniform, he glanced around the bar. Very nice. The wagon wheel chandeliers, the antlers, and the distressed wood all made for a friendly atmosphere. The sawdust on the floor to impart a nostalgic ambiance hadn’t lasted past the first few months. Too much of a pain to sweep up.