Amanda caught sight of him the moment he entered the bar. He wasn’t one of the usuals, and he certainly didn’t look like one either. Threads of gray weaved through his dark hair and most of his beard. He had a weathered demeanor, that only made him more appealing. He had to be at least ten, maybe even fifteen years older than her.
She scanned his biker gear as he made his way toward the bar. Black riding boots, leather jacket, worn jeans, and a t-shirt that read “Bad Samaritan” made up his ensemble. A few of the regulars took note of him, especially the women, as he walked through the place. He was more than a little out of place in a sea of local office types having a quick drink between the end of their work day and their retreat home.
“What can I get for you?” she asked.
There was a mischief in his eyes as he spoke.
“A shot of Jack and whatever you have on tap will do me.”
“Guinness, Blue Moon, Bud or Bud Light,” she replied.
“All shit. I’ll take the Guinness, I guess.”
Amanda nodded and poured him a shot before heading over to pull a pint of beer from the tap, making polite conversation that might have been tipped with just a hint of curiosity.
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Nope.”
He wasn’t the talkative type as he offered up nothing further. Instead, he knocked back the shot and took a drink of the beer before ordering another shot. There was no conversation to be had between the two of them other than his ordering more shots and another beer. He seemed unaffected despite the amount of alcohol consumed as he eventually settled his tab and walked out. Amanda realized she knew nothing more about him when he left than she had when he came in and, much to her surprise, found that she would like to.
It wasn’t often that a man garnered much attention from her. Many of the regulars usually hit on her, but she had no interest in any of them. She was well aware that she was attractive, though not at all conceited about it. Most women would consider it good fortune to have been graced with her good looks, but it was a curse, as far as she was concerned.
She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and let her blue eyes scan the space. She felt like an All-American girl—looked like one—and that is precisely how she was treated. No one cared if she had a brain or any inclination to use it. Instead, they saw her as an object to be possessed. Men grabbed her thick waist and groped her lean legs. She rolled her eyes. Men only saw fit to dangle her on their arm as a point of envy for other men. Women saw her as a threat. She was neither.
It hadn’t been so long ago that she had thought it in her best interest to settle down. She was, after all, twenty-eight and still single. Carson Sims had been in her life for two years and was eager to marry her. It was no secret that he was ambitious and power hungry. That had been just fine with her for him to be driven. She had been just as keen to make a name for herself in the world of art acquisition. It had been after a particularly difficult day with a local curator that a conversation had shed a frightening light on what she was signing up for if she married Carson.
“I don’t know why you don’t just leave that job. You’re not going to need it once we are married,” he had told her.
Amanda had stopped in the middle of preparing their dinner and looked at him, studying his face carefully. He didn’t seem to think anything of what he had just said.
“I may not need the job, but I’m hardly one to sit at home and let you take care of me. I might complain, but I love my job and want to take it as far as I can. Someday, I’d like to own my own import-export business.”
“Then I’ll buy you one. I’m already doing quite well for myself and will only become more successful as time passes. We can buy you a business, and you can hire people to run it, so you aren’t tied up there all the time.”
“Why wouldn’t I just run it myself? It is, after all, what I want to do. Why would I pass it off to paid strangers?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda. You’ll have your hands full here quickly enough.”
“With what?”
“Do you think running a household is easy? This is a huge house I’ve purchased for us to live in once we’re married. You can spend your time redecorating however you choose, cooking, reading...I’m sure you’ll want to hire the cleaning out eventually. I mean, I know you pretty much do it now, but once we have children, you’ll be even busier with them.”
Children?
“We haven’t even discussed children,” she replied.
Amanda could feel her anger rising. She had always known that Carson was traditional when it came to his idea of marriage, but she had no idea that he expected her to be a stay at home mother. What about her own ambitions? Was she not entitled to pursue a career just as he was?
“What’s to discuss? I thought you wanted children?”
“I don’t know if I do or not. Even if I do, it won’t be anytime soon.”
“Amanda, you are not getting any younger. Surely you don’t want to be one of those women who is middle-aged and pregnant?”
“I don’t know if I want to be pregnant at all!”
“Look, you seem agitated, and I have work to do. You need to sort yourself out and be reasonable. We’ll talk about it again some other time.”
Amanda stared at him wordlessly as he got up and made his way to his office down the hallway. Shaking herself free of her momentary paralysis, she looked around the kitchen. It dawned on her that this was meant to be a prison sentence, not a marriage. How had she missed that little fact?
That had been only a few months ago. She had packed her bags the following day while he was at work and left, leaving only a note with her engagement ring to hold it down on the kitchen table. She had intended to find a place of her own and just continue with her life without him in it, but things had gotten ugly quickly. Repeated incidents later, one of which was in direct violation of a subsequent restraining order, and Amanda had run even further away, giving up everything for a bit of peace of mind.
It had only been after her head had cleared a bit that she had realized that her reason for running went far beyond just not wanting to be a housewife and mother. She had been afraid of commitment, giving up her freedom. It had seemed manageable when Carson had proposed to her, but when he had begun talking about her becoming a homebody and a mother, it had gotten to her. That was the real reason she had left him.
Of course, she didn’t regret it. After seeing how he had reacted, how he had come after her, she could make certain assumptions. Would he have been that abusive in their marriage? Would it have just been verballing or would it have crossed the threshold to physical violence? He had shown signs of that during the stalking that had taken place, shoving her against a wall and pinning her there to force her to listen to his angry tirade. She had been frightened and greatly relieved when a local had forced him to release her and escorted her to her car safely.
So, she had ended up here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Rio Lobo wasn’t exactly the sort of place you’d find on any map. In fact, she hadn’t seen it on hers. Instead, she had wandered off course, ended up here by mistake and decided to stay. It was an old town, full of superstition and ancient lore, but it was her home now. If she missed anything about her past life, it was her budding career. Perhaps one day, she could pursue her dreams once again. Until then, she would continue to lay low and live the simple life she had come to embrace.