Summer was lost. Like, really, really lost. Her phone was dead, her car was low on gas, and it was, frankly, too damn late to be trying to figure out where the hell she was. Her stomach growled again for the fifth time in five minutes, and she gave up trying to find a fast food place too, picking the nearest parking lot that looked like food and pulling in.
It turned out to be a bar, not a restaurant, but the atmosphere and clientele intrigued her, and there was something other than usual about the way the folk there felt to her. So she slid through the crowd, avoiding eyes, and snagged a seat at the bar next to a tall, lanky, blond fellow, putting her forehead against the cool wood.
“God, what a fucking awful day,” she said to nobody in particular, and tried to catch the bartender’s eye.
Dyson gave a puff he classified as laughter and looked over at the woman beside him. “You too, huh?” Raising a hand at Trick he gave a nod to mean he’d pay for her drink. Giving another glance around the tavern, he saw hungry lustful looks being aimed at the newcomer and let his eyes flash golden, guessing from the looks of her that this woman wouldn’t want to be accosted. The other fae instantly turned away at seeing his wolf flare.
Focusing back on his new drinking partner, he gave a lazy half smile and raised his glass of whiskey. “To a better night.” Throwing back the drink, he pushed the empty glass forward before leaning against the bar. “Dyson.”
Being responded to wasn’t entirely unexpected; a remark like that, in a place like this, practically begged a response. The voice that responded, though — it was a nice voice, warm and commiserating without being sympathetic, and the face was just as good, friendly and encouraging and with no hint of intrusiveness. Summer offered her own wry, lopsided smile in return.
“I’m Summer.” To the little bartender (it shouldn’t have been so much of a struggle to keep from showing surprise at the man’s size, but it was, and that was embarrassing all by itself) she said, “Amaretto, please. And can I get a glass of cider? That’d be lovely.”
The amaretto appeared in front of her remarkably quickly, and she lifted her toast to Dyson in return. “To a better night, indeed. It can’t get much worse.” She blew out a sigh and drank off half the glass. “I don’t suppose you’re a native who can tell me where a safe place to stay in this town is?”
At her drink choice and courtesy, the wolf shifter gave another half smile and a nod of thanks at the old bartender. Giving a glance back at the rest of the bar for reference, he shook his head. “This is the safest place in town. Anywhere else, I’d sleep with an eye open and a weapon under your pillow.” He wasn’t exaggerating, any hotel – or worse, motel – in town was in the words of his favorite human: skeezy. He’d worked too many homicide cases out of the inns in town.
Dyson couldn’t let this newcomer stay anywhere like that. With only one other place in mind, he tossed back his second glass of whiskey before turning to face her fully. “I’ve got room at my place. That’s the safest place for you to stay.” His old friend gave him a sideways look from behind the bar, but Dyson ignored it. He knew his words were true, and he definitely didn’t want to have to find her killer later.
The straight-up sincerity of his offer took her off-guard. Summer set her glass down to stare at Dyson. “You really mean that,” she said at last. “I’m expecting you to pull a suit of armour from behind a door any minute now.” Of course he couldn’t know she was more than able to take care of herself, but if she didn’t have to sleep with one eye open and empathic senses on alert, she wouldn’t.