I traced my fingers down the condensation on my glass, trying to figure out how to best formulate my question. “Do you ever worry that the opposite might happen? That more tourists might lead to McBride losing its small-town charm?”
The bartender chuckled. “Nah. Most of us in McBride have lived our whole lives here, and when you live in a place all your life, it seeps into you. It becomes a part of you in a way. Your neighbors aren’t just people who live next door, they’re family. You shop at Don’s Book Nook down the block because Don’s mom knows who your favorite author is and has their latest book already waiting for you the day it comes out, and you know buying the book there rather than somewhere else means Janet can keep fostering dogs. You walk into the pharmacy and order jalapeño pickles on your patty melt because Precious keeps a jar in the kitchen just for you.”
His words struck a chord in me. It was the absolute sense of belonging somewhere. I realized suddenly that it was something that I’d never experienced before and hadn’t realized I’d been missing until that moment. I felt a sharp pang of longing and forced myself to focus on my half-empty glass, gripping it tightly and letting the biting cold of the melting ice seep into my palms.
“I can see why you love it here.” I cleared my throat, hoping he hadn’t heard the loneliness that had crept into my voice.
“I do. This place isn’t just my past, it’s my future.” His eyes met mine, and there was an intensity to them, a lingering passion from talking about McBride.
It made me wonder when I’d last felt that kind of passion. Not anytime recently that I could remember.
The moment felt charged between us, a casual conversation that had unexpectedly turned deep and personal. He seemed to realize it at the same time I did because his cheeks flushed pink. “You’re easy to talk to,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “I don’t usually spill so much of my personal shit to the customers. Sorry about that.”
I flapped a hand in the air stupidly, so I reached for my drink and took a gulp for something to do. Of course it went down the wrong pipe and I choked, trying to stifle a cough. “Happy to be of service,” I wheezed before falling into a fit of coughing.
Smooth, James, I thought to myself. Nothing sexier than a man half choking to death on a Mai Tai.
Once I finally got my breathing under control, I looked up to find the bartender smiling at me. “You okay?”
I nodded.
The dimple appeared again, and I wanted to lick it. “So, what are you up to while you’re in town? Doing anything interesting?”
I almost choked on my drink again. Three Mai Tai’s in quick succession had loosened my thoughts enough that my brain immediately wanted to fire back with I’d like to be doing you.
Even thinking the words made my cheeks burn, and I cleared my throat. “Just checking out the place.” Was it just me, or did my voice sound gruffer than usual?
“Need someone to show you around?”
I blinked. He asked it so offhand and casually that it took a moment for the words to sink in. Was he actually asking me out? Was that even possible?
I thought about an old Bible story I’d heard when I was little about Satan tempting Jesus during his time in the desert. I wondered if Satan had taken the form of a twenty-six-year-old hottie with twin freckles over his wrist and a scar on his chin. If so, maybe I needed to reconsider my atheism. If Jesus was able to resist, he had to be a god.
“Maybe,” I said, hedging. But I couldn’t help indulging my curiosity. “What would you show me?” I realized how dirty that sounded and quickly amended the question with, “What are McBride’s best features and hidden secrets?”
I hadn’t heard myself flirt like this in years, and it felt strangely freeing. Maybe I needed to get out of the city more often and relax for once. If this is what it felt like, I definitely wanted more.
The bartender leaned a hip against the edge of the bar. “Well, let’s see… all of the best sea glass can be found on the far side of the point. But you have to look up in the sea grass for it because all the good stuff by the water is already taken. What else?” He pressed his lips together and looked up as though mentally touring the small town. He snapped his fingers. “Oh, you can rent the best cruiser bike from Nanny’s ice cream shop down By Lane. It has a big enough basket to carry your goodies home from the farmer’s market on Friday mornings. Also, if you visit the lighthouse during a new moon, you can usually hear the ghost of Tonny McBride herself moaning out to the tides that took her dear Franklin away from her three hundred years ago.”
He leaned across the bar and lowered his voice. I caught a whiff of something fresh and outdoorsy, like sunshine and salt, maybe even freshly mown grass. Without realizing it, I’d moved in to hear him better.
“But the real cause of the sound is McBride’s Wiccan society doing their New Moon Ritual.” He held a finger to his lips, drawing my attention where it definitely had no business going. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret.”
“And all the Wiccans,” I couldn’t help pointing out.
He chuckled. “Nah, they’re usually so sloshed by then, they hardly remember anyway. McBride Wiccans like to ratchet up the power of their spells with a little liquid courage. Bev Mulrooney mixes up a fresh fruit sangria that would make you cry.”
I laughed, the stress of the day—hell, the stress of the last few months—easing from my shoulders. Whether it was the strong drinks, the cozy atmosphere, or the attention of the hot, young bartender, I wasn’t sure, but suddenly I felt more at peace than I had for the better part of a year. I let myself sink into the feeling, to enjoy it as I continued to watch and listen, spellbound, as he told me more stories of McBride and recounted all the things about the tiny town that made it special.
And I tried not to think about how the deal I was bringing to town was going to ruin everything.
2
Sawyer
Fuck if he wasn’t the hottest man to come through the pub’s front door in years. The handsome stranger was tall, poised, and chiseled like something right out of an Armani ad. Which had never been my type. But there was something in his eyes and something about that salt-and-pepper hair that was just enough past time for a trim that the edges flipped up in one spot. I wanted to run my fingers through it.
And then I wanted to run them all over the rest of him. Followed by my tongue.
That I wanted to lick an incredibly handsome man didn’t surprise me. That I’d found myself talking so easily to him had caught me off guard. Usually I wasn’t the sharing type, especially with strangers, and especially about things that truly mattered to me. It had been both liberating and unsettling, and I’d found myself turning the conversation back to less-weighty topics before I found myself baring my soul to him.
“Yo, squirt.” My cousin Karlie’s pet name for me pulled me from my thoughts. She never tired of needling me about being the youngest in the extended family.
“Yes, mamma?” I asked in return, a nod to her seven-months-pregnant belly rounding out the apron tied around her waist.
She rolled her eyes, but I could see the hint of a smile. She liked to grouse about her current situation, and she had good reason to since her good-for-nothing ex-boyfriend had ditched her after finding out he was about to become a father. More often than not, though, I caught her running a hand over her belly, a look of wonder and adoration in her eyes. She was going to make a wonderful mom.