When we arrived, my parents, as expected, engulfed Nate and his girls in hugs that I was honestly a bit jealous of. There were tears from my mother as she took in the sweet faces of Eloise and Molly, two little girls she had never met in person but had instantly fallen in love with. Seemed the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, because I was falling just as fast for those girls in the course of two days as my mother did in two minutes.
It was hard not to when they looked up with those big brown eyes and begged to sit next to me at Mom’s table. This offered me the chance to steal the seat Autumn usually occupied, and Colton’s was obviously empty next to it. My other sisters shifted down one place to give the twins a seat on either side of me. I was thrilled I wouldn’t find myself nestled next to Nate, but my joy was short-lived. As Andrew shifted closer to my dad, that opened the chair directly across from me.
I spent the remainder of the meal trying my hardest to keep my attention centered on my newly acquired guests seated at my hips or on my mother, who was chatting with my sister Rory who was talking about her first full year as a teacher. But no matter how hard I tried, my eyes always flickered to the man across from me, who seemed to struggle equally to keep his gaze trained on his plate. By the time the dessert was brought out—an apple pie I later had no recollection of eating—I’d given up, and my stare had solidly landed on the gorgeous man across from me.
It reminded me of the staring contests we’d have in elementary school, where there never really seemed to be a winner. Instead of my eyes burning, it was my skin. I felt every inch of the way his eyes roamed over me, and my body was on fire. Ugh, why did he have to be so damned good-looking that I couldn’t turn away? Luckily, no one else at the table seemed to notice the unannounced game we were playing.
Or so I thought.
The way I constantly wiggled in my chair under his gaze left the twins beside me giggling that I had to use the restroom. Nate chuckled every time, and I hated that I loved his laugh. His deep timbre had my cotton panties soaked by the time the guys collected our plates.
As Mom and Dad collected the twins to take them around the farm after everything had been cleared, I dashed toward the bathroom and did the best I could to clean myself up. I’d consider getting myself off, because something had to be done, but that plan was diminished the moment I heard Andrew knocking on the door.
He asked if I was okay, since I ran to the bathroom so fast. I fibbed and told him that I was having stomach issues. Cringing at my lie, I opened the door, surprised to find not only Andrew but Nate as well. My brother’s face was pinched, as if he expected something gross to follow his little sister out of the enclosed space. Fortunately for him, the bathroom still smelled of the floral pot-pourri my mom kept in a basket on the vanity. I was pretty sure it was the same kind of pot-pourri she’d been stocking in that room for decades, just newly refreshed.
While Andrew continued to look like he landed in a pile of manure, Nate smiled, clearly aware of my lie. I was so embarrassed to see him standing there that I immediately ducked past them, my cheeks burning as I went. They were so blistered that it felt like I sat in front of a fire for too long.
Wordlessly, I ducked out of the house and snagged the closest UTV that would carry me back to the bed-and-breakfast. Key dangling in the ignition, I tossed my leg over the seat and tucked my dress under my thighs. Not that it mattered, because no one would be along the back pathway, but I had some deeply ingrained modesty taught by my mother.
Faster than a downed tequila shot by a college student, I darted across the east field toward the well-worn path usually covered under the shade of corn stalks. This year, Dad was allowing the soil to settle by planting soybeans. He rotated the fields every few years so the earth wouldn’t tire.
Twenty minutes later, I was back in my room at the B&B, freshly showered, with my favorite remote-controlled boyfriend in my hand, knowing it was going to be a poor substitute for what my girlie bits really wanted. Closing my eyes, I transported myself back to my apartment, where Nathaniel laid me across my kitchen table and had his own personal feast. The man said he was hungry, after all. And I’d let him eat as much as he wanted, because who was I to deny a starving man?
I came crying out his name and praying he was still hanging around my parents’ house to catch up, because I was pretty certain anyone in a couple mile radius could’ve heard Nate’s name from my lips.
***
Three nights later
Even though it was Wednesday night, all the adults in town seemed to pour through the doors of Ole Days. I sat in the far corner of the bar, hidden in the shadows, watching them all.
Most people assumed I’d never want to drink at the place I worked, but I secretly loved it. The dark-stained wooden walls, the overly epoxied bar top, the sticky floor. Even the faint stale smell of cigarettes and beer were a comfort to me. Smoking in the bar was banned at least two decades prior, but the scent continued to linger.
Were there better places in town to go for a drink? Sure. But none of them had this old saloon atmosphere you’d find in a movie from the 1970s.
Off in the back room, I watched a few guys play darts and pool. I recognized a few of them, but the others definitely weren’t locals. It wasn’t just their polo shirts, pressed shorts, and slip-on boat shoes that gave it away. It was the fact that Larry, Mo, and Curly didn’t offer them a greeting. Those weren’t their names, of course. I just bestowed them on our regulars when I first started working here. The trio loved a good joke and constantly made me laugh whenever I needed to fill in behind the bar. They frequented the establishment so often they had their own seats, and everyone in town knew it.
Giggling to myself, I realized maybe we should change the name of the bar to Cheers, remembering how the show had a steady set of bar patrons with their own seats. I might’ve only been twenty-four, but I loved 1990s sitcoms and kid’s shows for as long as I could remember. My friends were watching shows like Victorious and Hannah Montana while I was at home watching Full House and Family Matters. I would’ve loved growing up during the TGIF days. Alas, I was born a decade late for that.
Sighing, I tilted my empty glass toward Rachel, the bartender working tonight, silently requesting a refill. After her quick nod, I turned my attention back to one of the televisions across the way. The bar didn’t play sports or news; they focused on classic movies. Something to have playing in the background but didn’t pull the full attention from the patrons. Currently, an old western flashed on the screen. I inwardly sighed as the lead appeared. I always did love Clint Eastwood.
With a new mojito in hand, I lost myself in the movie of a man seeking revenge, ignoring the people milling around me. It wasn’t until I was sipping the remains of my second drink that I felt the air around me shift. My heart began pounding, and the hair on my arms stood on end the way it did when you touched one of those small tesla coils. My body instantly went into flight-or-fight mode, yet my brain wasn’t prepared for either.
As if conjured from the depths of hell, my ex, Stephen, strolled through the doors of the bar, looking like the pompous jackass he was. I quickly tucked my body against the wall, my hair a thin veil covering most of my face as I watched him stroll through the room like he owned the place.
The instant fear I felt at his appearance gave way to a new emotion. My fingers gripped around the base of my glass, and I knew the vein that ran down the center of my forehead was pulsating.
How dare he come back to this town, to this place I worked, and act like he hadn’t upended my life?
Unsurprisingly, he joined the group of guys in the back room as they continued to hoot and holler obnoxiously. The Stooge trio at the other end of the bar glanced over their shoulders at the newcomer and then immediately looked in my direction. I guess I wasn’t being so inconspicuous in my hiding space as I wanted to believe.
My anger popped in brief spurts like an active volcano as I watched Stephen flirt with the lone waitress working their area, but when he smacked her ass as she walked away, I nearly jumped off my stool to put him in his place. He was saved from the embarrassment of me kicking his ass as my brother got up in his face instead.
If my brother was here, that meant….
A hand landed on my shoulder, and out of habit, I swung my arm out, ready to knock back my intruder. The years of self-defense classes always seemed to kick in.
“Woah! It’s just me, Ali,” Nate exclaimed, hands raised in surrender as he called me by the legendary boxer’s last name.
