Oh, my God. Where did that come from? My body heats at my thoughts. I reach for the pitcher of beer at the same time Lincoln is staring at my chest. I’m careful not to wear low-cut shirts as I hate the questions that follow when they see my scar. It’s always the same one response of “You’re so young.”
Yeah, well, not too young to have a heart problem.
With the pitcher in hand, I turn around toward the bar. Mal and Presley are there, smiling at me. The second I’m within earshot, they’re all over me with questions. “What’s with you and the fisherman in the corner?” Mal asks.
I’m secretly in love with him and wouldn’t mind having his beautiful babies. I pretend like I don’t know who they’re talking about. “Huh?”
“Him.” Mal points to Lincoln. “He’s been watching you all night like he wants to take a bite out of you.”
I’d let him. I can’t describe it or even understand it, but the draw to him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. As if my soul knows him from previous lives and we’re connected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Instead of handing the pitcher to Mal, who’s keeping their tab, I fill it myself.
“Who are they?” Mal asks, looking to Presley for an answer.
“The one next to the wall is Lincoln, and the other one is his younger brother, Bear. They’re fishermen from Ilwaco.” Presley nods to the table. “The other two are from the Ashara. I don’t know their names.”
Once I’m finished filling the pitcher, I return to the table. The closer I get, the more aware I am that previously Lincoln’s eye contact had been a quick glance here and there, as if he didn’t want me to notice. Now… he’s blatantly staring at me, and it’s everything I can do not to trip. I reach the table, set the pitcher down, and begin taking away their empty baskets of food.
I don’t spend much time at their table, or at least I try not to, but I’m aware of him every time I pass by them. He occupies the space in the corner and my mind for hours. I can’t shake him or the feeling that I need to know him.
It’s around two in the morning when they stand to leave. Bear approaches me with his wallet in hand. “What’s the damage?” He leans into the bar, winking at me. He’s cute, adorable even, with his thick black beard and bright blue eyes, but he doesn’t hold my fascination like the enigmatic ones of his brother.
I cash them out, and Bear smiles. “You were right,” he says, tucking his wallet into his back pocket.
I glance up at him, fidgeting with the receipts in my hand. “About?”
“The fish and chips. Best I’ve ever had.”
I return the smile, my eyes drifting over his shoulder to Lincoln, who’s standing near the door with the other men who were at their table. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Maybe next time you’re in town, you guys can stop by.”
Shit. Why’d I say that? I just gave myself away.
Bear straightens his posture. “We definitely will.”
And then they leave. I keep waiting for Lincoln to look back at me, but he doesn’t. I glance down at their tab to see the tip they left me. Their tab was only $65.43, and they left me a hundred-dollar tip.
Seriously? I check it to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
We close up the bar another twenty minutes later after Everett and Avie have to clear out the regulars who think last call doesn’t apply to them.
Presley hits my shoulder with hers, counting her tips. “How’d you do tonight?”
“They left me a hundred-dollar tip,” I tell her, counting out the till.
“The fishermen?” I nod. "No shit? Crazy. I would have given them a hundred bucks just to stare at them for a night,” she teases, reaching for her purse under the bar. “I’m heading out. I don’t want to have the awkward conversation with Avie about how much of a dick he is.”
I laugh and close the till. Placing the money inside the bank deposit bag, I tuck it under my arm. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” In fact, I remember telling her many times over the last few years that he’d be like this. Avie’s never even had a girlfriend because he can’t keep them. Once they find out he’s married to a bar and keeping his little sister alive, most run. To say his baggage is heavy is an understatement.
Presley shrugs. “And I can’t say it wasn’t worth it.”
Mal and I head for the door at the same time while Avie finishes up in the office. He watches Mal walk out the door and then looks back at his computer. “I’ll be out soon,” he tells me from his desk, his hand in his hair as he frets over invoices.
I give him a weak smile and hand him the bank deposit envelope. “I’m fine. Mal will give me a ride,” I lie, knowing she’s already in her car and leaving.
I like to walk home at night. It’s dangerous, sure, but we live in Westport and only a mile from the bar. Who’s gonna kill me? A lone crab?
He nods and goes back to his paperwork.
But I don’t leave. I need to know why he’s treating my friend so badly. Sighing, I blow out a breath and lean into the doorframe. “Why are you being so mean to her?”
Avie lifts his eyes to mine. “What?” His question is delivered with annoyance, as though he can’t believe I’m asking him about this. He hates it when I pry.
“With Presley. Why are you being so mean to her?”
Aggravated, his brows dip. “I wasn’t mean to her.”
“You weren’t nice.”
“C’mon, J. I don’t have time for this.” He rolls his eyes, running his hand through his mop of dark brown hair that matches mine. “I have work to do.”
He’s such an ass sometimes. Okay, most of the time, but I can’t say I blame him entirely. It’s not like the years have been easy on any of us.
“See ya at home.” I flip the switch to the lights leaving the bar draped in darkness.
Outside, the cool marine air hits me with a slap, the misty rain following. I sigh and breathe in the smells of saltwater. I love the way the fog has moved to the streets and glows under the street lamps. The ding of the buoy rocking back and forth and the distant flash of the lighthouse light my path.
I think about Lincoln and his intense stare on me all night. I wished I’d had the guts to talk to him, but I’m also horrified by my reaction to him, the draw, the need to know him. I suck in a breath, the scent of the sea on my tongue, and step onto the sidewalk in front of the bar.
Though it’s a small coastal town, it’s not unheard of for boats to be coming in at this hour or locals to be walking around. Who I’m not expecting is Devereux.
Fucking Devereux. Ugh.
“I don’t have your stupid ring,” I tell him, rolling my eyes and turning on my heel to walk away from him. “Go home to your wife.”
He catches me by the elbow. “The thing is, I need that ring.”
“Why? Have another wife you need to give it to?”
His grip on my arm tightens. “It’s not like that. I just need it back.”
“I told you. I threw it in the ocean. Go diving.”
He doesn’t like that, his eyes narrowing in on me. Swallowing nervously, I remember how often I bent myself to fit the mold I thought he wanted from me. I drank straight from the cup of perfect and forgot who I was. And now, now I remember that I can fight for my own happiness. I won’t settle for being the other woman.