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As Sandy walked away, Heff couldn’t help but stare at her ass. The sway was subtle but hypnotizing.
“She’s single, right?” Mad Dog asked, jolting his attention back to the table. “I didn’t see a ring on her finger.”
“Down, boy.” Cage laughed.
“Didn’t you ever hear that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” Doc quipped. “With Mad Dog here, she might as well be taking the express.”
Beneath the table, Heff’s hands clenched into fists. “She serves it; she doesn’t cook it, you idiot.”
Mad Dog shrugged, unfazed. “You can kiss the messenger as well as shoot her, right?”
Church shook his head. “Sandy’s a local, and you know locals are off-limits.” He shot a meaningful glance at Heff.
Why did they always assume he was the one who needed the repeated warnings?
Not that they’d done much good, obviously, because he had ignored the warnings and wouldn’t mind doing so again, Church and his warnings be damned. She was worth it, if for no other reason than to work her out of his system. Another couple of hours was all he needed, and then he could move on.
“Besides, she’s not that kind of girl,” Doc added thoughtfully.
Ever the provocateur, Cage grinned. “Oh? Do tell. What kind is she?”
“The white-picket-fence and two-point-five-kids type.”
Heff snorted. He hadn’t gotten that impression at all. Sure, Sandy might look like the girl next door on the outside, but he knew better. In those few hours they’d spent together, he’d seen another part of her—the wild vixen lurking beneath all the small-town propriety. The perfect combination of innocent and naughty. Inexperienced but up for anything. As anxious to give as well as receive and ...
Shit.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Church turned his all-seeing gaze on him, but he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he scanned the restaurant, pretending that he was both bored and irritated and definitely not thinking of getting Sandy naked again.
He scanned the room again, his eyes landing on the dark-haired waitress they’d had a few times when Sandy wasn’t around. She was in the corner, looking at something on her phone. She had to be someone’s relative because no business owner in their right mind would keep her on otherwise.
Unfortunately, she chose that moment to look up and lock eyes with him. Her smile was wide as she slipped her phone into her apron pocket and made a beeline for their table. Heff averted his eyes and sipped his water, but it was too late.
“Hi, fellas,” she said. Her eyes roamed around the table before landing on him. “How are you doing tonight?”
She received a few unenthusiastic but polite responses.
“Need anything?”
“We’re good, thanks,” Church answered.
“Yeah, Sandy’s taking good care of us,” Mad Dog added.
The waitress scowled before smoothing her expression. “Well, if you need anything, let me know. I get off at ten.”
Sandy returned, expertly balancing a tray with four pitchers of beer and frosted mugs.
“Marietta, table seventeen asked for more bread and dip and twenty needs their check.”
Marietta glared at Sandy before turning on her heel and stomping off. If looks could kill, they’d be performing CPR on Sandy right now.
“You are the best, Sandy,” Mad Dog told her, reaching up to help with the pitchers.
Sandy blushed—she fucking blushed—and ducked her head. She worked her way around the table, handing out the mugs. She hesitated slightly when she got to Heff.
Was he imagining it, or were her hands shaking a little? And why did that give him a thrill?
“Sorry,” she said quickly when the frosted mug slipped from her hand and hit the table harder than usual.
“No problem,” he said.
They reached out at the same time, their fingers brushing in the process. One touch—one fucking touch—and he was raring to go.
Judging by her sharp intake of breath, she felt it too.
She pasted a smile on her face and looked at everyone but him. “I’ll have your apps out in a few.” Then, she all but scurried back into the kitchen.
When Heff looked up, they were all staring at him.
“Jesus, Heff,” Doc said, shaking his head. “Tone it down a bit, will you?”
“What the hell did I do?”
“He’s just too fucking pretty for his own good,” Cage offered.
Mad Dog pinned him with a glare. “Go after her, and I will gut you in your sleep. Do not fuck this up for us, Heff.”
Yeah, about that ...
“Enough,” Church said, but the look on his face suggested he agreed wholeheartedly with Mad Dog. “We need to get one of the cabins finished for Smoke and Sam.”
They murmured their agreement. Now that Smoke and Sam were officially together, they needed a place, preferably one with some privacy, where the rest of them wouldn’t be subjected to audible reminders of just how compatible Smoke and Sam were.
“The one by the pond is probably in the best shape,” said Mad Dog, the only one among them with a degree in architectural engineering. “It’ll need a new roof, but otherwise, it’s structurally sound.”
“We’ll need to rewire and run some new electric lines,” Cage added.
Church sat back. “How long will that take?”
“To do the work? Not long. I can do it, no problem, but with the license and inspection guys being pricks ... oh, sorry, Sandy.”
“No worries,” she said, having returned with another large tray containing wings and nachos. “Believe me, I’ve heard worse. And things will get better. I did some checking when I was at the township building today, and your permits were approved. You’ve got your town hall meeting too. You’ll probably be getting a call tomorrow.”
“That’s great!” Church said. “But I thought you weren’t working for the township anymore.”
Because Heff was watching her so closely, he didn’t miss the shadow that flitted over her expression.
“Change of plans,” she said with an unconvincing smile.
“Well, we appreciate the help.”
“I didn’t do much, just made a few phone calls. The woman in charge of the county license and permit office served in the Air Force and has a son in the Navy. Once I told her about Sanctuary, she said she’d pull your applications and make sure they got top priority.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded, though she seemed embarrassed by the praise. “I’m going to go check on your entrées. You guys need anything else while I’m back there?” She looked pointedly at Mad Dog.
“Nah, we’re good,” he told her, grinning.
“All right. I’ll be back with your meals soon.” She walked away again.
Heff didn’t even realize he’d been staring until Doc snapped his fingers in his face.
“Earth to Heff.”
“What?”
“You said you wanted to talk to us about something.”
Now that Sandy had disappeared into the kitchen, his brain kick-started back into gear. “Oh, yeah. I stopped by and talked to Brian McCain while I was out doing a perimeter check.”
“McCain ... he’s the one who bought the parcel that borders ours, right? Old horse ranch or something?”
“Yeah, he and his fiancée are turning it into a hippotherapy center.”
“Hippotherapy?” Cage asked.
“Horseback riding as a form of therapy,” Doc clarified. “It’s been proven to improve quality of life for people with disabilities, autism, ADD, PTSD, stuff like that.”
Church nodded. “And? What’s that got to do with us?”
“And ... I got to thinking ...”
“Always dangerous,” Cage said.
Heff ignored him. “Instead of putting our time and effort into rebuilding the stables at the Sanctuary, what if we create a partnership with McCain?”
“What kind of partnership?”
“In exchange for providing some manual labor and helping out—the same stuff we’d be doing anyway—we get access to their animals and services, both for ourselves and for our residents.”
Doc looked thoughtful. “That’s not a bad idea. Working with animals has been proven to do wonders, both physically and mentally.”
Church turned to Heff. “You think McCain would be interested?”
“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know his story, but the guy screams former military.”
“All right. Talk to him, see what he says.”
Further conversation was put on hold when the rest of their food arrived. It was excellent, as always, but Heff barely noticed. A different hunger had been building within him all evening, and a medium-rare porterhouse wasn’t going to cut it.