Nine“To vacation days,” Ben muttered. “And romance.” Smiling wearily, he drank his toast alone.
What had been intended as a relaxing day of laughter, good food, and great s*x had ended up one long trudge through Hell. Thank God it was over. Thank God for fermented grain. While he was at it, thank the furniture makers for his comfy bar stool.
The Well, a watering hole on the fringe of the Port District, had once been his home away from home. When he'd started seeing Erin, that changed. They'd never gone together. It was in public, after all, and Erin despised the place, called it a dive. Ben liked it for precisely the same reason.
In his civvies, relieved by the returned Pierce, off duty and back on vacation, Ben was in The Well aboard his stool, guiding a lime sliver with a cocktail str
