Zeke ‘Silver’ Bennett walked over to Nell Patton, who had started pouring his double whiskey the second that she’d spotted him coming through the door of her bar. By the time he’d reached her, she’d already dropped in a single ice cube and she stood, her arm extended. Silver gave her his slow smile, took the drink from her with a nod of thanks.
“Here you go, handsome,” she said, in that husky voice that still made men pause in their tracks and eye her up, even at sixty-one years of age. “Welcome back to Nebraska. Been a while. What – six months? Eight?”
“Thanks, gorgeous,” Silver replied, raising the glass in a toast. “And yeah, eight months sounds about right. How you been?”
Nell shrugged, her tattooed shoulders strong and beautiful in the half-light. “Busy as all hell. As usual.”
“So
