It shouldn’t be so intimidating. After all, it was little a slip of paper, a tiny rectangle with some writing on it, yet April hadn’t been able to stop fiddling with it since she slipped it in her pocket. Van hadn’t gotten in touch with her since their market escapade the previous morning, but she knew there was a question hanging between them: Would she take up his offer for a free drink?
Apparently he worked at Cedar Lodge, a bar near the prestigious resort her mom had gotten completely piss drunk in the first night she was reunited with the Palmer family. From what she remembered, it was a fairly upscale place, with cigar lounges and a martini bar on the patio. There was a pretty good chance that if she went, April would run into more old friends, the ones she hadn’t made much of an effort to contact since arriving in Cascade Falls a little over a week ago. Maybe it would be a nice surprise.
Plus, she was getting a little sick and tired of sitting around in her mom’s apartment every night, her butt glued to the couch as the TV blared for hours on end. It was like she was in high school all over again, not a grown woman who had a degree and the potential for a career.
As she spent the day considering Van’s offer, her mind wandered to Johnny. After all, Johnny would have been the safer choice of the two, and she knew there were no underlying… feelings revolving around him. Sure, she’d had a crush on him when she was sixteen, but those days were long over. If they were to meet up for drinks, it would be because April genuinely wanted to hear about what had been happening in his life. His touchy-feely crap from the market would be stopped gently but firmly—and that would be that.
If she went to the bar Van worked at… Well, there was no guarantee things would go so smoothly. As much as she tried to busy herself with apartment renovations and movies and books, April couldn’t stop her mind from drifting to Van. Hell, every time she left the kitchen she recalled the way his muscular arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her to him in the midst of their paint fight. The memory gave her chills, her skin erupting in excited little goose bumps.
But Van brought complications. He brought their history, no matter how fleeting and amazing that had been, and he also brought his dad’s unnerving warning. She and her mother had gone to look at a few wedding dresses the day after James issued his threat, and as much as April had wanted to spill the beans on her mom’s fiancé, she kept her mouth shut. Fear had a way of silencing people. However, she went to bed every night with knots in her stomach thinking that a guy like James would be her stepfather.
There was so much to think about, to dwell on, and by late afternoon on Saturday, April started to feel claustrophobic in her mom’s guest room. Hell, she felt claustrophobic in her own brain. Groaning, she tucked the business card away, using it as a bookmark for her latest read, and flopped back on her bed—which was so hard she woke up with back pain every morning—with a loud groan.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
She bolted upright as her mom’s voice floated in, spotting her loitering in the doorway across the room. April had filled her mom in on the details of her market adventures, cautiously excluding the fact that she and Van had a slight sexual history that was tainting all their current interactions.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I don’t even know if I really feel like it… I’d have to get dressed and put makeup on and…”
They were all lame excuses—that much was obvious. Her mom gave her a sympathetic smile, followed by a nod.
“Honey, you do whatever you want to do.” She checked her watch briefly and then looked back to April. “You know, I’m meeting the girls for dinner tonight, and… I think you should go.”
“Really?”
“No one’s forcing you to spend the night there,” her mom continued, as April’s frown slowly faded, “and you won’t have to pay for anything. I think it’ll be fun. You’ll see some old friends. You and Van can bond a little.”
She pressed her lips together. If only her mom knew bonding with Van was exactly what April was trying not to do.
“Plus, I think you’re starting to get a little cooped up in here,” her mom added, and this time it was April nodding. The woman still knew how to read her, even after living apart for almost seven years. “A change of scenery would be nice.”
With a little gentle prodding from her mom, April eventually made up her mind…she’d stay for one free drink. It might do her some good to see Van working somewhere, putting in a hard night’s effort—because the image she had of him in her mind was less than flattering, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t entirely fair.
He could still be a womanizing creep that she ought to steer clear from and have a good work ethic. That would bump him up a few points in her book.
Once her mom had left for her dinner date with her friends, a social butterfly in the golden years of her life, April rooted through her suitcase for something to wear. Even though this was a long-term visit, she’d yet to unpack, feeling that her home was back in her apartment, not here. It felt strange hanging up her things, putting them away in drawers.
At first, she went with a dark pair of fitted jeans and a tank top, which she covered with a dressy jacket. However, an image of Cedar Lodge popped into her head, as she studied herself in the mirror, and she quickly switched into a little black dress instead. It clung to her curves, modest yet sexy, and it had little cap sleeves and a hemline that stopped at her knees. Paired with a set of bright heels, and she’d be a catch.
Midway through her makeup routine, she hesitated, not wanting Van to think she actually put a lot of effort into her look for the night. Rather than doing the smoky eye she’d originally envisioned, April went with some liner and mascara, then a nude lip. Her hair she left as is, though she used a bit of product to add some waves. Cascade Falls was making her thin blonde locks straight as a board these days, and she had to wonder if it was something in the water.
Satisfied, she grabbed a clutch, put on her heels, and then realized it wasn’t even seven yet. Van didn’t start work until eight. And she wasn’t about to show up as soon as his shift started. A little embarrassed, April headed for the kitchen and made herself a sandwich, hoping that would settle her knotted stomach before she left for the night for one free drink and nothing more.
***
Cedar Lodge was nothing like she remembered. Even though she’d only been there a few times in her teens, usually with her parents, always during the day, things had changed. Instead of the upscale establishment she’d expected, April walked into a bar where most of the men were in plaid and jeans, and the women were equally casual. In her little black dress and heels, she was woefully overdone for a place like this, and just standing in the doorway, she could already feel the stares.
This was a mistake.
Panicked and a little self-conscious, April turned on her heel and made a beeline for the front doors. There were old license plates on the walls, stuffed animal heads, and neon signs. The place had gone to a decorator’s personal hell, but it was the busiest she’d ever seen it—all the more reason to get out. Just before she made it to the doors, however, a hand caught her by the elbow, stopping her dead in her tracks. She whirled around, ready to give the presumptuous bastard a piece of her mind.
Only to have her breath catch in her throat when she collided, chest to chest, with Van. Well, more like face to chest, given that he was a full head taller than her. April caught a whiff of his cologne, the scent tickling her nose and making her blush. It was the kind of smell that she’d always associate with him—even years from now when they were on polite familial terms. Anytime she smelled that damn cologne, she’d think of Van.
He looked smart tonight. Well-dressed. Nothing like the bar-back slob she’d expected. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the waitresses, in their white cotton tees and jean skirts. Most were in flats. Van had a pressed dark button-up on, and when she dared to peak down, she noticed dress pants and some polishable shoes.
“What the hell?”
“Sorry,” he chuckled, arms crossed as she staggered back. April pressed her lips together tightly, realizing she’d actually vocalized her confusion at how well he was dressed. “I thought you were trying to slip out before saying hi. Figured I’d catch you this time.”
She inhaled deeply, ready to tell him to put a damn cork in her little escape routine from that fateful night, but then she thought better of it. Instead, she gestured down to her dress. “I thought I might have overdone it,” she said. “I remember Cedar Lodge being a little more… You know…?”
“Uptight?” The music grew louder all of a sudden, and April was forced to step closer to him just to hear what he was saying. “Yeah, it was, but then with new ownership came a new vibe. The town’s bullshit elite can go to the resort if they want their fucking cigar bars and underpaid servers.”
Did he know his dad was one of those “bullshit elite” thanks to all the rumored shady dealings he’d had over the years? Maybe. It was hard to tell with Van. He’d yet to share an opinion with her about his dad, aside from the fact that it was crazy that their parents were getting married.
And what about his dad’s warnings to her? Was Van privy to that little gem of an incident?
Again… Probably not. If so, she doubted he’d try to make an effort to see her outside of forced family get-togethers.
She looked around, taking in the younger crowd of patrons. “I bet it makes more money now. College kids drink.”
“Hardly a lot of college kids here,” he argued, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Van leaned down, his hand on her lower back, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood. She should have pushed him away. Removed his hand. Glared. April, however, did none of those things. Instead, she merely stood still, trying her hardest not to concentrate on the warmth radiating from his palm, nothing but a thin slip of black dress separating them. “Most of them drink at, you know, actual college bars.”
April nodded. Most of the people looked like the kinds she’d met in college, which made her feel oddly… old. Apparently twenty-five was the new fifty.
“Why don’t I give you the tour?” Van suggested, taking her hand and pulling her into the crowd. She stumbled after him, gripping his hand back for the briefest of moments before pulling it away, thinking it was pretty presumptuous of him to just grab her like that. Van glanced back when they broke apart, but said nothing, nor did he reach for her hand again.
Like any tour, Van showed her the highlights of the new Cedar Lodge. There was a stage in one corner, upon which a DJ played with his equipment. There were three bars, effectively splitting the crowd and cutting the wait time—according to Van. One bar was on the main level, one upstairs in the lounge area, and one outside on the patio. The weather was a little chilly tonight, which meant most people made use of the two inside.
“And this is where I will be for the rest of the evening,” Van told her, dipping his head down to speak in her ear. They were far from the speakers as they approached the main floor bar, and he’d led her to the quiet corner where the staff seemed to enter from. There was no need to be so close to one another; she could hear him just fine at a distance.
But April found she almost preferred it this way, so she said nothing. Instead, she snagged an empty barstool and placed her hands flat on the counter, waiting until he appeared behind the bar. All he needed was a towel thrown over his shoulder and the look would be complete. Behind him, two other bartenders catered to the rest of the patrons—though now that Van was there, a few of the bar-goers wandered down to her end demanding beer. Van pointedly ignored them.
“What will the lady be drinking this evening?” he asked, and April wondered how many other girls he’d used those words on in the last week. He must have been able to just reel them in, dressing handsomely with that killer smile. Squaring her shoulders, April cocked her head to the side as if thinking on it. She decided that she could indulge in his game—just this once.
“Surprise me,” she said finally, and he tapped the bar top with a grin and a nod, then disappeared to the wall of full alcohol bottles behind him. She half-expected he’d return a few seconds later with a shot of gin. As she recalled, that was his drink of choice back in the day.
Her stomach twisted at the fact that she even remembered Van Palmer’s drink preferences from high school. Does that make me pathetic? She thought.
However, rather than returning within seconds, it took him about two minutes to make her drink. What he set in front of her was unexpected, and April took some time to admire it. Somehow he’d created a beautiful shade of violet, but as April turned the huge glass—far bigger than anyone else was getting—she noted that in certain lights, there were blue elements to it. Magic in a glass. Lips pursed, she glanced between Van and the drink, and he watched her expectantly.
“You better not drug me, Van Palmer,” she joked, as she pinched the black straw. He smirked.
“Wouldn’t need a drink to do that, April O’Hara.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s horrifying. Thanks.”
Still grinning, Van filled an empty glass with clear liquid from one of the nozzles behind the bar then raised it to toast her. “Cheers.”
She raised her drink in return then took a tentative sip.
If heaven was a drink, it would taste like what was in her glass. One sip wasn’t enough, and before she knew it, April had gulped down half the glass. She set it down, face puckered. The drink was perfectly sweet, but now that she was done drinking for the time being, its alcoholic aftertaste was beyond strong. A dangerous combination, certainly.
“What was that?” she asked, coughing a little as she pointed at his drink. He set the glass aside and wiped his mouth, her eyes lingering on the way his thumb swiped across his lower lip. It seemed to move in slow motion.
“Water,” Van told her. “I don’t drink on the job.”
She shrugged. Was that supposed to impress me? Most of the working world didn’t drink on the job.
“How’s the drink?”
April shrugged again, but wondered if he could see just how badly she wanted to guzzle it down. “It’s okay.”
“I’ll do better on the next one.”
“I only want one.”
“But you get them free for the next hour and a half,” he insisted, winking when their eyes met. She blushed, hastily looking back at her concoction of wonderfulness. Suddenly, out of nowhere, his fingertips grazed her hand, and April sat up sharply as if a jolt of electricity had shot straight from her fingers to her spine, then down to her toes. Van leaned in, and she couldn’t look away this time. “I’ll be here all night. You want me; I’m at your beck and call.”
Fuck. Unable to come up with anything even remotely appropriate in response, April merely grabbed her drink and stuck the straw in her mouth—and drank.
“Okay, okay,” Van groaned, finally turning to address the horde of people demanding drinks on the other side of the bar. She was tucked away just around the edge of the bar’s counter, and no one had bothered to cluster around her, even though clearly that was where Van’s attention was held. “Which one of you noisy fuckers wants a drink?”
She bit back a smile as they all clamored for alcohol—though her laughter fell flat when Van immediately went for the hot chick with the big boobs at the back of the crowd. Biting the insides of her cheeks, she turned away and continued to nurse her drink, pretending wholeheartedly to take in the architectural detailing of the walls around her.
Because if she didn’t, she had a feeling she’d be inadvertently staring daggers into the busty brunette flirting outrageously with Van—and there was no way she’d give him the satisfaction of seeing her jealous.
There was no reason to even be jealous. Huffing, she stabbed at the ice chunks at the bottom of her nearly finished drink a few minutes later, but before she could even set the glass down, Van was there with a new beautifully colored drink and a wink, to which she said nothing. The drink was delicious—and it’d be rude to refuse one he’d put in the effort to make for her, especially when he had other paying patrons he could serve. His boss would probably rip him a new asshole if he was caught favoring her.
The thought brought her smile back.
And that smile was still there, four drinks later—well after the cut-off point for the ladies-drink-free shtick they had going. They’d been chatting for the better part of an hour, and each time she finished her drink, Van asked if she wanted another—and of course she did. The drink was magical.
Van was magical. April told him so at one point.
“You’ve got magic fingers,” she said, a slight slur in her voice, as she leaned over the bar, drink between her hands. Van leaned in, though only slightly, and behind him the other two bartenders had to deal with the onslaught of patrons as midnight neared. “Magic drink making fingers… and, if I remember right, m-magic fingers for other things, too.”
“Oh, naughty girl, April,” Van said and laughed, as she leaned back on the barstool. A look of panic flashed in her eyes when she nearly tumbled backwards, her center of gravity a little off suddenly, but she regained her composure quickly enough. Van grinned at her, arms crossed and eyebrows up. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re… drunk,” she fired back, pointing at him, her eyes narrowed. “I’m fine.”
“Bet you couldn’t walk a straight line if someone paid you to right now.”
I could so! She thought. Ready to show him, she was almost off her barstool, eager to prove him wrong, when a fight broke out over by the pool tables. April turned, her vision a little blurry, and watched the scuffle spill out onto the dance floor. Within seconds, bouncers in black uniforms swept in to break things up, and Van was suddenly behind her, sitting her back down on the stool.
“Stay here,” he breathed in her ear, and she shivered. However, just as she reached back to touch him, desperate to cop a feel of that toned midsection, he was gone, straight into the thick of things on the dance floor. Bartenders don’t break up fights. Frowning, she slid off the stool and wobbled after him, her drink forgotten. She thought, Didn’t he know? Bartenders tend bar. Behind the bar. For me. All night. No one else.
The crowd had thickened around the scene, and as the bouncers pulled one of the guys away, maybe to take a walk outside, Van was in a heated discussion with the other half of the fight. Even in her inebriated state, April could tell their exchange wasn’t a friendly one.
“You know what? Congratulations,” she heard Van snarl, as she squeezed through the crowd. “You just got yourself banned from the bar.”
“Fuck you,” the guy spat. “Says who?”
“Says the owner,” Van barked. “Get out of my bar. If I catch you here again, you won’t be walking out of here, I promise you that.”
April gasped when the other guy took a swing at Van, her eyes widening. The few remaining bouncers swooped in immediately, but not before Van ducked and socked the guy right in the nose. He went down like a lead balloon, and a few people in the crowd cheered.
Suddenly, she needed to sit down. Her head spun as the crowd dispersed, the music’s volume climbing again, and it was only then that her rational mind realized she’d had one too many of Van’s surprise cocktails. Placing a hand on her forehead, she searched for an exit, her eyes glassy and unfocused.
“April?” Van’s voiced trickled into her ear, but she turned away.
Van. Gorgeous Van. Making me drinks. Talking to pretty girls with big boobs. Fuck Van. Playboy Van.
Someone grabbed her by the arm, and when she felt a muscular arm wrap around her waist, she looked up, confused. Blinking rapidly, Van’s face slowly came in to focus.
“I told you to stay by the bar,” he insisted, and even to her drunk brain, she could tell that he sounded irritated. “You never know how many people these stupid bar brawls suck in… You could have been collateral.”
“You punched a guy in the face,” April announced, her knees giving out, her body limp and relaxed, as the alcohol coursed through her system. Van sighed in her ear, his breath warm and soothing.
“Yeah… I did.”
She tilted her head back to study his handsome face—then added, “Yeah. You did.”
“Let’s get you some fresh air.”
With an arm still wrapped around her, Van led her through the crowd and out onto the nearly vacant patio overlooking the lake. She inhaled deeply, the brisk night air rattling her brain around just enough to clear some of the drunken fog. Leaning on the thick wooden railing, April watched the stars twinkle on the water’s surface.
“So,” she started, the tipsy slur gone from her voice at last, “you own the bar, huh?”
“Didn’t I mention that?” Van leaned on the railing, hands knitted together over the water. She glanced at him, an eyebrow up. “Ah. Guess not.”
“No, you didn’t.” He’d spent a lot of his time making suggestive comments about their night together, but not once did he mention he owned Cedar Lodge. She couldn’t place the source of the feeling, but guilt had started to fester in her stomach—maybe because she hadn’t given him a fair chance when they met up again. She’d just assumed he’d be a low-life playboy, and yet each time they met up, he managed to prove her wrong.
Her head ached. Placing a hand against her forehead, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. It had been a while since she’d been drunk on anything but a few glasses of wine with some friends—usually at home—and her body was not pleased.
“I didn’t want to take over Dad’s position in the club,” Van continued, and she opened her eyes quickly. “His interests weren’t mine. So I saved up, bought the bar last year before the bank foreclosed on it.”
“And by club you mean his… motorcycle gang?”
“Not really a gang, April,” he chuckled, and she caught him roll his eyes a little. “It’s a club for people who share a common interest.”
“Right.” Being biker thugs, apparently, and carrying out shady backdoor deals under the radar. Oh, and threatening future stepdaughters. Let’s add that to the list too.
“Why don’t I take you home?” he suggested, as the silence dragged on, and she pursed her lips. For some reason, she was annoyed. Whether it was the booze or Van or recalling James’s threats, her temper spiked in that moment.
“I can get home by myself,” she insisted. “I drove here, and I can—”
“Yeah, I’m not losing my liquor license because I let a drunk girl drive home,” Van told her, pushing off the railing, “no matter how hot she looks in that dress.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she took a few moments staring out pointedly at the lake to collect herself. When she was ready, she fell in line behind him, still a little wobbly in her heels.
The inside of the bar really got to her: the smells, the sounds, the stench of sweaty bodies combined with the humidity of the dancing horde made her head spin again. However, determined to stay on her own two feet, she focused on Van’s broad back and nothing else, following him straight through the crowds until they reached the doors.
“I’ll be right back,” Van told one of the bouncers. “Just taking my friend home.”
April’s eyes swept over the bouncer, and she realized he was another former high school acquaintance. A year ahead of her, like Johnny, but his name was nowhere near the tip of her tongue, so she kept her head down and said nothing.
“I think you broke that guy’s nose, bossman,” the bouncer laughed, though there was a hint of concern there too. “You think he’ll sue?”
“Fuck him,” Van grumbled, taking April by the arm and leading her down the stairs. “I’ve got a whole bar full of witnesses who saw him swing first.”
***
Although she’d vowed never to get on the back of Van’s motorcycle, April had to admit that it beat walking home. Their heads clunked together, her helmet heavy and big and awkward with her arms wrapped around Van’s thick midsection. At first she’d just kept her hands on his shoulders, but when she found she was more stable if she just hugged him, she went with it.
Besides, at that point, she was still drunk enough to blame the inappropriate body contact with her future stepbrother on the alcohol that he poured for her. So, really, any weirdness in the days to follow was totally Van’s fault.
He glanced over his shoulder, his leather jacket cool on her bare arms as she hugged him, and April almost apologized—but then realized he wouldn’t hear her anyway. So, she smiled through the clear visor, the bike rumbling between her thighs, encouraging sensations that she shouldn’t feel, and Van nodded before turning back to watch the road.
It should have taken them fifteen minutes—maximum—to get back to her mom’s apartment. However, rather than taking a direct route through the town, Van went north, leading her along winding roads surrounded by trees. There were no other cars on the road at this point—just her and Van and his bike, roaring along the cracked cement, nothing but trees and starlight to keep them company.
Despite the way her stomach turned and her head ached, April was actually enjoying herself. She’d never been on a motorcycle before, and there was something of a… thrill to riding it. Maybe it was the way Van handled it, so confident, so sure of himself—so sexy in his leather jacket. She hugged him tighter, laughing as he leaned the bike around a sharp corner. She could have ridden with him for hours, forgetting that he had a job to get back to. A part of her wanted him to take her along the deep woods on back roads; maybe they could stop for a breather sometime.
But all goods things had to come to an end sometime, and April realized that might have been for the best. Van slowed the bike once they were back on Main Street, her mom’s apartment building appearing out of nowhere. As soon as he was pulled up to the curb, Van cut the engine and helped her climb off.
“How was that?” he asked, his helmet’s visor up. April dragged her helmet over her head, her hair a disaster in the aftermath, and grinned.
“Fun,” she admitted with a nod. “A lot of fun.”
“I knew you’d like it,” he teased, as he took the helmet back, setting in on the seat behind him. His bike was just as much an impressive specimen as Van. Although she knew nothing about motorcycles, it was big and shiny and ridiculously clean, and she knew that had to stand for something. A gust of wind barreled down the street, and her skin prickled with little bumps as her teeth chattered. Van studied her for a moment then cursed under his breath. “I should have given you my jacket.”
“It’s fine,” she said, waving off his concern. “I’ll be upstairs and warm in a minute.” April paused, licking her lips, and then asked, “Do you want to join me?”
It was the alcohol talking—yeah, let’s blame it on that. She swallowed thickly, and when their eyes met, his were practically smoldering. It stole the breath right out of her lungs.
Unfortunately, that was where the smoldering stopped. Van shook his head and looked away. “I’ll see you around, April.”
He then pushed his visor down, started up his bike, and roared off into the night, leaving her alone on the sidewalk.
Confused. Embarrassed. Angry.
And a little bit broken.