And the place where I’d never expected to meet this intriguing creation.
We passed two men, tourists based on their polo shirts, jeans and unscuffed boots. They both looked Winn up and down. It wasn’t subtle and her mouth pressed into a line as she ignored them, her eyes aimed forward.
Brave men, not only because she was wearing a gun, but because I was a possessive bastard. With one glare from me, they each dropped their eyes to the sidewalk.
That would always be a problem with Winn.
She was too beautiful. You didn’t expect to see a woman so stunning walking down the streets of Quincy. Her hair was down today, straight and long as it draped down her spine. Without sunglasses to shield her eyes, those blue irises sparkled beneath the afternoon sun.
We reached an intersection and she checked both ways before crossing the street and marching to the bar. Her shoulders were square and her serious face in place as she opened the door.
Old Mill wasn’t the over-the-top scene that was Big Sam’s. It was more of a sports bar, and if I wasn’t up for Willie’s, I came here to catch a game and have a drink. Flat screens were mounted between neon beer signs. Three keno machines hugged the wall just inside the door. Above them hung a framed Quincy Cowboys jersey. Two different baseball games were playing tonight, the announcers’ voices muted through the bar’s sound system.
“Does your family still own this place?” she asked as we walked toward the bar.
“Not anymore. My parents sold it to Chris when I was a kid.”
“Who’s Chris?”
I pointed to the bartender.
“Is there another ordinance in Quincy requiring all bartenders to have bushy white beards?”
“Not that I know of.” I chuckled and pulled out a stool for her at the bar before taking my own. “Hey, Chris.”
“Griff.” He nodded to me, then held his hand out to Winn. “You’re Covie’s granddaughter, right?”
“I am.” She fit her delicate hand into his meaty grip. “Winslow. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. What brings you two in?”
“Winn’s got a few questions for you. But how about a beer first? Whatever’s on tap. Surprise us.”
“You got it.” Chris wouldn’t be gruff like John—who, compared to Willie, was as welcoming as a doormat. Of the regular three bartenders in town, Chris was the nicest guy.
Winn didn’t need me here, but I was having a hard time walking away.
Her questions for Chris were the same ones she’d asked John.
Was Lily here on Saturday or Sunday? Do you remember seeing her with the same guy more than once? Did she have a boyfriend?
Chris’s answers were the same as we’d gotten at Big Sam’s. Neither of us finished our beers, and when she went to pay, I beat her to it. With a wave goodbye to Chris, we retreated to our vehicles on the opposite end of Main.
“You talked to all of Lily’s friends, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I did. I hoped that one of them might have noticed something wrong. But they were all as shocked as Melina.”
“Conor’s broken up about it. I think he might have had feelings for her.”
“Really?”
“I don’t think she returned those feelings. He got shoved into the friend zone a long time ago.”
“Hmm.” Her shoulders fell.
“You think she had a boyfriend, don’t you?”
She stayed quiet.
That was a yes. Maybe Lily had hooked up with the mystery guy before she died. But who? Now my own curiosity was racing down the block. If Lily had been seeing someone, Conor would have known about it. Unless Lily had hidden a relationship to spare his feelings.
“Maybe she was sleeping with someone who worked at the bank with her,” I said.
“I never said she was sleeping with anyone.”
I gave Winn a knowing look. “You didn’t have to.”
“Why did you come to town with me?” She crossed her arms. “You told me to back off. You told me to drop this, remember?”
“I remember. But for Melina’s sake, for Conor’s, I respect that you’re trying to give them more of an explanation.”
“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bye, Griffin.”
Before she could climb into her SUV and disappear, I walked to the passenger side of her Durango.
“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes through the window.
“Might as well drive together to Willie’s.”
“How did you know I was going to Willie’s?”
I chuckled. “Do you want me to drive instead?”
“No.” She huffed but unlocked the doors.
The five blocks to Willie’s was too short. The inside of her car reminded me of her bed. The moment we pulled into the parking lot, the temperature in the cab spiked. Attraction crackled between us like a spark.
Would I ever come to Willie’s and not picture her in my truck? Probably not.
Winslow parked and was out of the car so fast she practically jogged to the door. Her cheeks were flushed when I caught up.
“Shuffleboard?” I nudged her elbow as I opened the door.
“No.” That pretty flush deepened. “I’m here on official business. And you said it yourself this morning. Not a good thing to repeat. You’re a busy man.”
I said a lot of stupid things.
“Griff.” Willie stood behind the bar, his scowl fixed firmly in place as we walked in.
“Hi, Willie.” Winn didn’t bother taking a seat, and what I’d told her about making nice at the other bars had been forgotten. Or maybe she knew ordering a drink and making pleasantries with Willie would be a waste of time. She launched into her questions about Lily, and when she received a series of grunted nos, she thanked him for his time.
Winn turned, ready to leave, when the door opened and a familiar face walked into the bar.
“Harrison.” My uncle Briggs walked over, his hand extended. “What’s going on, brother? I didn’t know you were coming into town tonight.”
Fuck. My stomach dropped.
Winn looked between the two of us.
“Griffin.” I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “I’m Griffin, Uncle Briggs.”
He studied my face, confusion clouding his eyes. He looked normal in jeans and a red shirt. But he was wearing two different boots, one round toe and the other square. A set of keys dangled from one hand.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“Thought I’d grab a beer.” His forehead was furrowed, still trying to figure out how I wasn’t my father.
“I’ll buy.” I nodded for Briggs to head to the bar, then faced Winn. “I’m going to stay here with him.”
“Sure.” She looked to my uncle, her eyes softening. “Have a good night, Griff.”
“Bye, Winn.”
As she walked to the door, I joined my uncle at the bar. He called me by my father’s name three times in the hour we sat and sipped a beer. He remembered Willie just fine, but kept giving me strange looks.
“I’d better get home,” I told him. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you? I haven’t seen your place in ages.”