“I see the roadhouse has a new server. Welcome to Rescue. How long have you been in town?” The man had a smooth, Hispanic-accented voice.

Was he flirting? No, he just seemed friendly. “This is my third day here.”

“Oh, I bet you’re the woman who rented a cabin from Dante.” When Frankie nodded, the blonde held out her hand. “I’m Audrey. I run the library—and sometimes help with waiting tables here, too.”

“Frankie.” Frankie shook her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Audrey motioned to the man beside her. “Caz, commonly known as Doc, runs the health clinic.”

“Chica, I’m not a doctor.” He frowned at Audrey. “How did you manage to convince Gabe you’re so sweet?”

She smiled. “Love. It’s blind.”

Laughing, Frankie turned to check on the bartenders. Still busy. She smiled at Caz and Audrey. “You have a very friendly town.”

It’d surprised her how much she enjoyed being here—and even working in a bar. Handing out drinks was much better than dealing with oh-so-entitled models, photographers, and agents.

“It is friendly, especially now. After a long Alaska winter, everyone’s happy to see new faces,” Caz said.

“I bet.” Before she could say more, the big asshole bartender slipped the drink orders from her hand and grinned at the new customers. “Where’s Gabe?”

“He’s on his way in,” Audrey said. “He was playing with paperwork and budgets.”

“Now, that’s just sad.” The bartender flipped through Frankie’s orders.

“Hey, Caz is here,” someone farther down the bar shouted, then slapped the bar top. “Song, song, song.”

“No mames, güey.” Caz lifted his hands in exasperation.

The chant spread from around the bar to everyone in the room. “Song, song, song.”

Despite the words Frankie had translated to mean something like seriously, dude, Caz shook his head in resignation and asked Audrey, “You in?”

Snickering, she shook her head no. “My throat is sore. Lillian made me help act out a book for the preschoolers.”

Frankie leaned on the bar. What in the world was going on?

With one hand, the bartender was drawing a beer, with the other, he slid a wireless microphone down the bar top. “You’re up, Doc. “Let’s have ‘Hakuna Matata’.”

Caz sighed and picked the mic up. “You owe me, ’mano. That beer better be cold.”

“Always.”

At the bartender’s dazzling smile, Frankie’s heart completely skipped a beat. Cribbio—sheesh. All that intense confident masculinity was intimidating.

She forced her gaze away and saw Caz flick the mic on…and start the bouncy tune from The Lion King.

When the bartender picked up a mic and joined in, Frankie’s mouth dropped open. The man had a gorgeous bass voice.