“Are you feeling okay?” Molly laughs.
“She had nowhere to go,” I say, turning back to the truck’s engine. “Found her sleeping in her car outside the co-op this morning.”
“She seems like a nice girl.”
I nod. “I guess.”
“Just be nice to her,” Molly says. “It’s been forever since this place had anything going on.”
I shoot her a look.
“I won’t talk about you-know-who.” Molly places her hands in the air in protest. “I’m just saying, it might not be a bad thing if she actually enjoys her time with you and maybe wants to stay a little longer.”
Shaking my head, I glance at the house. I don’t know what’s taking Leighton so long, but I’m wishing she’d come back, if only because this conversation with Molly needs to be over. Fast.
“You could use the company,” she adds.
“She’s leaving next Friday,” I say. “And that’s that.”
“It’d be nice to see you smile again, River.” Molly’s voice tapers off.
The screen door opens and shuts and Leighton makes her way across the stone path that cuts through the yard and past the white picket fence.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Molly says before climbing back into her Suburban. “And next time, I’ll bring enough for two.”
Chapter Seven
Leighton
“Where are you going?” River glances up from his newspaper at the kitchen table. I don’t know anyone who reads a newspaper over coffee at eight o’clock at night, but I don’t question it.
“Thought I’d go to one of those little bars off the square,” I say. “Kind of curious to see who all stuck around this little town and how everyone turned out.”
He takes a slow sip. “Pretty sure it’s going to be about who you’d expect.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Stillness lingers between us, and I’m almost certain his eyes are skimming the paper but he’s only pretending to read.
“You want to come with?” I offer.
His lips tighten and he shakes his head. “Going to bed soon. Five o’clock comes early.”
“I’m just going to have one drink,” I say.
“I’m not your keeper.”
“I know you’re not my keeper. I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not some kind of crazy party animal.”
“And if you were, it’d be none of my concern.” He takes another bored sip.
“Isn’t that coffee going to keep you up all night?”
“Decaf.”
“I never understood the point of decaf coffee.”
River glances up, our stares intersecting. “Sometimes all you need is the experience. Anyway, you have yourself a good time.”
I tuck my clutch under my arm, wondering if my black blouse and white jean shorts are going to be too much for a little small-town bar.
“Sure you don’t want to join me?” I ask one last time. Maybe a drink or two would loosen him up a bit? I imagine there’s someone else entirely beneath his steel-armor personality.
“Yep.” He straightens his newspaper.
“Maybe next time?”
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t look up.
I leave.
Every eye in the place is on me the second I walk into The Oasis on Wellman Street. It was either this or the American Legion next to the plastic factory. An old firehouse-turned-taproom, this place has been here since I was a kid, though I’ve never stepped foot in here until now.
The smoke clears and my eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
A row of men in dingy gray t-shirts and holey jeans crane their necks in my direction, and across the room, three men playing pool with a scantily-clad woman stop and stare. The jukebox is playing an old Alan Jackson song, and the floor sticks to the bottom of my flats as I make my way to the bar.
Taking a seat on the end, I flash a warm smile at the bartender and order a Sazerac.
“A what?” The bartender’s eyes widen.
“A Sazerac,” I say. “Absinthe, cognac, and bitters with a sugar cube.”
He scratches at his balding temple, failing to hide his annoyance, and gives me a look that suggests he’ll do his best.
“Wait,” I place my hand out. “I’ll just take a Corona.”
He looks relieved as he waddles to a lit bar fridge and retrieves a chilled beer.
“And who might you be?” Whiskey-scented breath heats the back of my neck, and when I turn to face my greeter, I find a man who clearly has no concept of personal space. “Never seen you around here before. You got a name?”
“Leighton.” I sit up tall, turning my back toward him once more in hopes that he’ll get the hint.
“Pretty name.” I hear a slow, drunken smile in his voice. “Where you from?”
“Here,” I say, staring straight ahead.
“I’d remember a face like that in a town like this,” he says, every other word slurring into the next. His rough hand finds my shoulder, and I stiffen. “Hey. I’m talkin’ to you.”
I look toward the bartender, trying to wordlessly catch his eye. He probably knows this drunk bastard, and I need someone to sic him off me before I go off on him myself and make a scene.
“You goin’ to talk to me or are you too good for me now? You think you’re too good in your … in your fancy shoes with your fancy hair?” The man’s tone grows agitated. “Your pussy’s no better than any other pussy in this fuckin’ town. You ain’t nothin’ special.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I’d love nothing more than to turn around and knock out what remains of his teeth, but instead I stare ahead, choosing to ignore him as best as I can.
“Don’t ignore me, you little bitch,” he growls in my ear. His words vibrate against my eardrum, sending shivers down my spine.
My fist clenches and my eyes squeeze.
And then the heat of his body disappears.
“What the hell, man?” he yells. I turn around in time to see him being pushed into an empty high top. He lands on his ass, and a few of his buddies chuckle from the bar.
“You bother her again, you’re out of here.” A man, whose face I can’t see at the moment, stands over the drunk. “I won’t be so gentle next time.”
The drunk bastard scrambles to stand, grabbing onto empty chairs. His expression is a bit delirious, but I think he got the message.
My knight in shining armor turns to me, moving closer. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. He was obnoxious, that’s all.” I offer a smile, simultaneously trying to hide the fact that I’m checking him out.
“Asa’s mostly harmless.”
“I’m sure.”
With a strong jaw, ice blue eyes, tanned skin, and coppery-blond hair grown out and tucked behind his ears, he flashes a disarming smile that disrupts the steady rhythm of my heart for a second.
“Seth,” he says, resting his elbow on the bar counter beside me. His eyes haven’t left mine once, and there’s a gentle, easy way about him. “I own this place. Anyone bothers you again, you find me, all right?”
I nod. “Will do.”