“Didn’t you go to bars before you met Darby?”
“Yeah, but––”
“And didn’t you meet Darby at the very same bar I’m headed to right now?”
“Yeah, but––”
“So what’s the problem? I’m taking an Uber if you’re scared about me drinking and driving, which you know I would never do.”
We also haven’t replaced the stolen pickup truck yet. We haven’t found anything affordable, so Darby has been gracious enough to let us use his when we have to haul to the vet clinic.
“Yeah, but––”
“But what?”
“But you’ve got those two strapping young men right… out… there.” She stabs her index finger three times at the front door, her sparkly blue nail polish glittering in the light.
“And?” I say, unable to come up with a better excuse on the fly. Playing dumb seems to be my only option.
“And nothin.’ Take one of them. Problem solved.” She flips the ends of her hair as if that’s all there is to it.
“Mona… not only are they off-limits for liability sake. They are way out of my league. I need someone who wants the same things I do––a family. Roots here in this community. In this town. I don’t need an attention-deficit movie star or a wandering nomad, neither of whom have shown any interest in me.”
Okay, maybe I downplayed the scorching hot chemistry between me and the nomad, but I need to put an end to her dreams, pronto.
I blow her a kiss. “See ya. Love ya. Bye.”
I step out into the warm night air and take a deep breath. I’m feeling better and better about this decision. Down the driveway, I see headlights approaching, which I surmise must be my Uber ride.
Stepping off the porch, wind blowing my hair back, I close my eyes and smile. When I open them, I see Shane standing five feet away dressed in his running gear. The expression on his face can only be described as shock. And not the good kind.
“Where are you going?” he says. No preamble. No manners, either.
I pretend to look in my purse for something. “Out.”
Slowly, he crosses the gravel driveway over to me. “I see that.” Without an ounce of shame, he makes a show of dragging his eyes all over my body. “I mean where are you going and with who?”
Oh, no. I will not accept attitude from this one.
I snort purposely. To underscore the absolute ridiculousness of his line of questioning. “It’s not really any of your business, Colonel.”
“Blue…” His hands go to his hips.
“It’s really cute that you think you can boss me around.”
“Where are you going? For your safety, you need to tell me.”
The Uber car drives up and I match the plates to the ones on my phone. Opening the back door, I slide into the backseat. “See you tomorrow morning, Shane.”
He glares at me, but otherwise keeps quiet.
“So anyway, I says to the”––a hiccup––“sorry about that. I said to the fuckin’, sorry ’bout that, to the freakin’ supplier, ‘if you think I don’t know timber, then you don’t know timber…’”
Holy bad choices. Is this what dating is like now? Have I forgotten something? Do I have a chunk of missing memory caused by the night I got jumped? Has my mind blocked out all the horrid stories of the dating world?
I don’t think so. I remember it being easier than this, though. Then again, I met Jaime on the job.
Dustin, the manager of the hardware store, saw me take a seat at the bar and made a beeline over. Tall, good-looking guy with an easy smile. And yet I’ve been here fifteen minutes and I’m ready to head home.
“Another Dr. Pepper?” Beth the bartender asks me.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Put it on my tab,” Dustin orders. “Anyway,” he keeps repeating. Leaning on the bar with his elbows sprawled out, he hits me with one by mistake. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I say, tacking on a tight smile.
“You never go out. I mean, I never see you out.” He tips the rim of his trucker hat back with his index finger and brazenly checks me out.
“I don’t know why. I should do it more often.”
Grinning widely, “Yeah, you should,” he agrees, missing the sarcasm altogether.
For a Thursday night, the bar is super crowded. A few heads turn to see who just walked in. The look on the woman’s face stationed at the end of the bar causes me to throw a quick glance over my shoulder.
Shane is standing in the threshold of the bar, trying to push his way in.
I’m going to kill Mona.
My stomach drops. He’s so handsome I want to scrub my eyes and erase my mind of him. It’s not fair that I know he exists and I have to go on living as if he doesn’t. The white linen shirt rolled up his forearms makes his tan look deeper and the whites of his eyes brighter. Face tense and jaw a hard straight line, he scans the crowd, and when our eyes connect, he stops. I notice the emotion on his face because I know him, but I doubt anyone else would. It’s relief.
Chapter 14
Pushing through the crowd, Shane doesn’t break eye contact once as he heads for me. Meanwhile, filled with anticipation, I’ve stopped breathing. Air will not move in and out of my lungs. It’s a problem.
“Hi,” he says softly, sounding somewhat humbled. We’re starting in a good place at least.
“Hi,” I say in return, finally taking a deep breath.
Shane’s attention switches to Dustin who is now watching us with the beginnings of a frown on his face.
“Hey, thanks for keeping my girl busy,” he says to Dustin and sends me an almost-smile. “Sorry, I got stuck in traffic, shirina.” As loud as it is in here, his low rasp is a breeze on my neck that makes me shiver.
Shirina… I Googled it. It means sweetheart in one of the languages spoken in Afghanistan. My heart melts and my resolve to keep him on a shelf weakens. Damn you, Google. I could be walking around right now none the wiser, but no, now I know he’s been calling me sweetheart.
“Your girl?” Dustin repeats, justifiably skeptical. Never once did I mention I was waiting for a boyfriend.
“Yeah, my girl. Now if you’ll excuse us––”
Normally, this macho bullshit would make me roll my eyes. Except I’m really not interested in spending any more time with Dustin, and I don’t want him knowing that. Last thing I need is to get jacked with higher prices next time I need timber because of bad blood.
“Dustin, I am so sorry I didn’t mention it, but I assumed you knew.” How the funk would he assume that? Who knows, but the good news is Dustin doesn’t ask any questions.
“How much do I owe you for her drinks?” Shane asks the bartender.
“Already taken care of by Dustin,” Beth answers.
“How much do I owe you?” Shane asks Dustin.
“Nothin’, man. It’s just soda.” Dustin sounds bummed. I almost laugh.
Shane looks at me with a touch of humor. “Soda?”
“Dr. Pepper.” Picking up my half-finished glass, I take a sip from the straw and Shane watches me take a sip, his gaze flickering to my mouth.