NATE
When I’d pickedup Evan from Luna’s earlier that day, there had been a noticeable difference. For the first time in a long time, Evan actually seemed... happy. I saw sparks of the laughing, joking girl I’d missed like I would my own arm. Despite the fact that she still had a few more days left on her sentence, I’d decided to ride that high and swing by Rizzoli’s for a couple pizzas and take them over to my parents’ for an impromptu family dinner. Evan had been all for the idea, even got excited, a nice change of pace from the moody teen I’d been dealing with for what felt like an eternity.
She and my mom had spent the majority of the evening in the kitchen, with my daughter learning to bake from the master, while Dad and I hung in the living room with his cooler of beers. When it came time to leave, Mom and Evan were still at it, so when she’d asked if she could spend the night—and of course my mother teamed up with her—I hadn’t been able to say no.
I left by myself, turning my car toward our tiny apartment, when Luna’s words from earlier about getting out and making friends popped into my head. Truth was, even though it was the first time in months I could have gone home to an empty house and basked in the peace and quiet, I didn’t want to. As sad as it was to admit, it wasn’t just the move back to Whitecap that had put a damper on my social life. Even in San Francisco, I hadn’t had many friends. To avoid my bad marriage, I’d buried myself in work until there wasn’t much time for anything else.
Hell, the last time I’d been out was the night I met Luna, and even then, it had been more to wallow in a few beers about the sad state of my life than to kick back and relax. I was a forty-year-old divorced single father. Luna had been right. I needed to get a fucking life. That was why, instead of going back to our tiny, uncomfortable apartment, I’d changed directions on a whim.
I could hear the music, feel the pump of the bass in my chest, before I opened the door to Dropped Anchor, Whitecap’s local watering hole. I’d driven by it nearly every evening when I left the office, and there were always a decent number of cars in the parking lot.
I hadn’t been inside yet, but the walk from my car to the entrance was enough for me to tell this place was a far sight better than the shithole I’d met Luna in some months back.
I pulled the door open and stepped in, surprised to see the place was bigger than I had initially thought. The wide, U-shaped bar dominated the back wall, directly across from the entrance. The old, scarred, wooden bar top was ringed with round stools. The left side of the large space housed an orderly row of pool tables, a juke box, and a few dartboards with a scattering of high-top tables. The right held the majority of the seating: tables and booths; against the far wall, a small dance floor and stage showcased a live band, currently playing a cover of Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” and doing a pretty damn good job of it.
Shuffling my way through the crowd, I bellied up to the bar and settled in on one of the empty stools.
The bartender, a woman in her mid-to-late forties if I had to guess, with dark hair and surprisingly cut arms shown off by the tank top sporting the bar’s name that she was wearing, stopped in front of me. “What can I get you, sugar?”
“Beer. Whatever you have on tap. I’m not picky.”
She gave me a friendly wink and knocked her knuckles against the scarred wood. “My favorite kind of customer. Be right back with that.”
With the size of the crowd, I’d expected a bit of a wait but was pleasantly surprised when she came back, setting a beer in front of me, barely a minute later. “You paying up front or starting a tab, honey?”
I wasn’t sure what made me do a scan of the bar before I answered, but my eyes drifted toward the stage just as the song ended, and I spotted a familiar wave of fiery red hair moving off the dance floor like autumn leaves blowing in the wind.
I spoke without thinking. “You know what? I’ll start a tab.” Shifting onto one hip, I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket and passed the woman my credit card. “Thanks.”
“You got it.”
Lifting my beer to my lips, I took a pull as I turned back toward the stage, easily spotting that mass of silky red hair in the crowd and tracking her to a table filled with her friends. I recognized Monica and the other woman she was with, the one who worked part-time at my parents’ store, Cheyanne I thought, and could only assume the two men sitting down were their significant others.
I wasn’t sure if it was coincidence or because she felt me staring, but those tawny eyes came up and scanned for a moment before landing on me, right there in the middle of a crowded bar.
Even from a distance, there was no missing the surprise on her face at the sight of me before she lifted her hand in a small wave. I lifted my beer in salute, feeling a tightening in my groin at the smile that tugged at her beautiful face, and before I could think better of it, I pushed off the stool and started in her direction.
I should have stopped. I should have turned right back around and left her the hell alone. But I didn’t. I closed in and leaned down to be heard over the song the band had just started up. The Stones “Gimme Shelter” this time. “Hey.”
Her smile stretched wider as she looked up at me. “Hey, back. I’m surprised to see you here.”
I returned her grin with one of my own. “I’ve got this really pushy assistant getting on my case about finding a life outside work.”
“She sounds incredibly smart. You should listen to everything she says.”
“She’s had a couple good ideas here and there. Enough to keep me from firing her.”
Her laugh sounded musical and smoky, a throaty sexiness to it that set my blood on fire. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t you join us?” She waved to indicate the table.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
She placed her hand on my arm, and I could have sworn I felt the skin heat beneath her palm. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Before I could object again, she addressed the table as a whole. “Guys, this is Nate. My boss and Georgia and Dezzy’s son. Nate, you remember Cheyanne, right?”
Relieved I’d remembered her name correctly, I nodded. “Yeah. Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” she returned politely.
“And I know Monica, from childhood,” I said, giving her a wave.