The doc had treated a woman for a concussion. She’d been dipnetting for the first of the hooligan runs, slipped, and smacked her head into a rock.

“Dipnetting? That’s like fishing?” Regan asked.

“More like scooping little fish up with a big net.” Bull mentally made room for some fishing time. “The hooligan are thicker in May. We’ll spring your papa from his clinic and go then.”

The kid had the best smile.

“Hey, Uncle Bull, is that your new waitress?” Regan pointed at the other side of the lake.

In jeans and a red jacket, Frankie was perched on the small picnic table behind her cabin. Something sat beside her—a bottle and glass? Her shoulders were slumped unhappily. She was drinking alone. She was too far away for him to see her expression, but her posture was a picture of loneliness.

A shame she didn’t like him, or he’d bring her here. Feed her.

“Yes, that’s Frankie,” he told Regan. “Dante rented her a cabin.”

“Is she nice?” Regan’s brows drew together. Although she’d come a long way from her defensive attitude last fall when Caz had brought her to Alaska, she was still slow to warm up to strangers. Reminded him of Hawk, sometimes.

“Nice, well…” Bull hesitated. His new employee was friendly to everyone but him.

“Frankie seems really nice,” Audrey said. “It can be scary to be all alone in a place like this—so different from the city. She’s from New York.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get it.” The Los Angeles child cast a sympathetic look toward Frankie.

Caz grinned at Bull. “Does your server still not like you?”

“Nope. Damned if I know why.”

Regan’s small face scrunched up. “If she doesn’t like you, then I won’t like her.”

For fuck’s sake. Bull scowled at Caz who’d started this mess, and his brother gave a very Hispanic shrug, denying all responsibility for fixing it.

“Maybe you should ask her why she doesn’t like you.” Gabe tossed a piece of sausage to Gryff.

“What?” Bull eyed Gabe. Of them all, Gabe was the best strategist—but wasn’t exactly known for having long heart-to-hearts about emotional matters. “You’re saying that?”

“It’s a self-serving suggestion.” Gabe chuckled. “Dante strained his back delivering firewood to the cabins. He asked if we could drop off some wood for Frankie, since he didn’t make it to her place.”

After an idiot renter used an ornamental tree for firewood, the old Okie had taken to stocking the cabins with wood.

“You want me to make the delivery for you, eh?” Bull scowled at his brother.

“Well, yeah.”

Fuck. However, it wasn’t a bad suggestion. “Okay, sure.” He’d wanted to discuss her idea for theme nights at the roadhouse, anyway. “First thing tomorrow morning.”

“We’ll hold off on not liking her until Bull reports back, yeah?” Gabe grinned at Regan.