A Brevia Beginning. Michelle Major

leaning closer again. “You might be the walking definition of the term ‘don’t quit your day job.’”

      “You’re a jerk,” she whispered.

      “Yes, I am.”

      Luke clapped his hands together. “This is perfect.” He took a step back and flipped on and off the light switch next to the bar. “We’re closing early, y’all,” he shouted to the lone couple in a booth toward the back. “Clear out now.”

      Ignoring the groans of protest, he pointed to Lexi. “You can write up an offer for the pretty boy. Better yet, there’s an old typewriter on my desk in the back. Grab it and you can make the contract.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t think—”

      “I’m not asking you to think,” Luke barked. “You’ve broken a half-dozen glasses tonight. If you want to keep this job, get the damn typewriter.”

      She threw a pointed glance at Scott. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

      Looking into her bright eyes, the only thing he could think of was that he wanted to kiss her senseless. But he sure as hell had a longer list of things he didn’t want.

      He didn’t want the botched arrest at the U.S. Marshals Service that had taken his partner’s life and put Scott on forced administrative leave. He didn’t want the resignation letter burning a hole in his back pocket. He didn’t want to go back to his empty condo in D.C. and stare at the yellow walls for days on end. He didn’t want to feel so helpless and alone.

      “Don’t tell me you’re all talk?” Luke slapped a wet towel onto the bar as he spoke. “I should have guessed you’d be willing to spout out big words but not follow up with any action. If you aren’t serious, get the hell out of my bar. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time with this.”

      Scott spoke to the bar owner without taking his eyes from Lexi. “I’m all about action.” He picked up his glass and drained it again. “Lexi, would you please get Luke’s typewriter? We need to talk dollars for a few minutes. See how badly your good old boy really wants to sell.”

      Chapter Two

      Scott felt someone poking at him, but couldn’t force his eyes to open. “Go away,” he mumbled.

      A shower of ice-cold water hit his face. He sat up, sputtering and rubbing his hands across his eyes. Water dripped from his hair and chin.

      “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

      “I’m going to kill you,” he said with a hiss of angry air, then looked around. He was on a worn leather couch in a small office, the shelves surrounding him dusty and lined with kitchen equipment. “Where am I?”

      Sam handed him a towel. “You passed out. Luke Trujillo called me at three in the morning, laughing his butt off. He said he offered you a ride, but you insisted you wanted to spend the night in your bar. When did you get back into town?”

      “Last night.”

      “You didn’t call. Does Dad know you’re here?”

      “Not yet.” Scott covered his eyes with the towel, under the guise of drying off his hair. “I didn’t call because our last family get-together didn’t exactly end on good terms.”

      Memories of the previous evening came back to him in full force. When he was certain he had his features schooled to a blank mask, he lowered the towel. “But I’m a big boy, Sam. You don’t have to worry about me.”

      “Are you kidding?” His brother paced back and forth across the worn rug between the couch and an oversize oak desk on the far wall. “You didn’t know where you were a minute ago.”

      “I was disoriented. It happens.”

      “What the hell were you thinking?”

      “It was a misunderstanding. The guy was being a jerk about serving me, so I gave him a song and dance about wanting to buy this place.”

      Sam grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and shoved it toward Scott. “This isn’t a song and dance. It’s a contract for purchase and sale. You gave him a down-payment check for fifty grand. Luke has wanted to sell for over a year now. To hear him tell it, the place is a money pit. He’s got family in Florida. Hell, he’s probably already packing his bags.”

      As Scott read the words on the paper, his head pounded even harder. The contract had his signature on the bottom, along with Luke Trujillo’s and one other. In neat, compact writing was the name Lexi Preston scrawled above the word Witness on the last line.

      The pixie waitress-attorney from last night. Clear green eyes and the shimmer of red hair stole across his mind. Wanting to impress her. Wanting to keep drinking. His two main objectives from late last night. Now, in the harsh light of morning, he realized how stupid and impulsive he’d been.

      Again.

      Most of the trouble—and there was a lot of it—Scott had in life was a result of being impulsive. He led with his emotions, anger being the top of that list. Normally, he wouldn’t let himself slow down enough to care about the consequences. But the botched arrest two months ago, a direct result of his poor judgment, had put him on the sidelines of his own life. It drove him crazy, although he wouldn’t have that discussion with Sam.

      “I know you’re still getting a paycheck and Dad says you’ve done well on investments, but it’s a lot of cash, Scott. What are you going to do when you go back to the Marshal Service? I don’t want to see you throw your money away like this.”

      Sam was the by-the-book brother, the one who’d always done the right thing. The responsible Callahan. At least, that was how it had been after their mother died. But a lot of years had passed since then. Scott was a grown-up now and he wasn’t about to admit that he’d messed up yet again.

      “I bought a bar. So what?” He threw the towel onto the floor by the couch and combed his hands through his hair. “I can afford it.”

      “That’s not the point,” his brother argued.

      “Sam, I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to you, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.” He walked past his brother and down the short hall to the bar’s main room. He couldn’t let Sam see how in over his head he felt. He’d done a lot of stupid things in his life, but last night might take the cake. What had felt warm and inviting then now just looked in need of a good scrubbing. The wood floors were scratched and dull and the tables mismatched, several sporting a layer of grime years thick. The place definitely had more charm in the half dark.

      “I don’t have much of a reason to trust you, and I definitely don’t trust Lexi Preston.”

      Scott spun around, then winced as the abrupt movement made his head hurt more. “What about Lexi?” he asked, not willing to address the issue of trust between him and Sam this early in the morning.

      “She represented the family who tried to take away Charlie from Julia.”

      “I don’t understand.” Scott had immediately fallen for Julia’s toddler son. He didn’t know Julia well, but it was clear she was a natural mother. “I thought the ex-boyfriend’s family was from Ohio. What’s the attorney doing in Brevia? Julia got full custody.”

      Julia had been embroiled in the custody case when she and Sam were first together. Being with Julia had stopped Sam from taking a job Scott had helped arrange for him with the U.S. Marshals. It had been Scott’s big attempt to repair his relationship with his brother, and it had felt like one more rejection when Sam had chosen Julia instead. Scott hadn’t quite forgiven her for that, but it hadn’t prevented him from forming a quick affection for the boy.

      Sam shook his head, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. “I don’t understand, either. She got to town yesterday with some sob story about how she needs