I was not having fun. Mostly, I was fighting the urge to puke. Though in all honesty, the state of my stomach had more to do with my hangover than anything else.
The Bird Building wasn’t a mall. Basically, it was a ninety-year-old two-story brick monster in midtown, the ground floor a neat line of retail spaces facing the street. First were a couple of empty shops, the windows covered in aging notices of bands playing in town, lost dogs, street fairs, and the like. Next was the Guitar Den, a tattoo parlor called Inkaho, then the Dive Bar taking up the prestigious corner position.
The Beatles played, filling the warm evening air along with the sounds of cutlery and glassware, the hum of chatter. It flowed through the open windows and doorway of the Dive Bar out onto the quiet street. It looked like they had a decent-size crowd for a Sunday. People flocked to town each summer, but most seemed to stay downtown by the lake. I bet the bars and shops there would be full. Midtown, away from the water, tended to be quieter. More for locals.
With a hand hovering at my lower back, Vaughan ushered me along the sidewalk.
“I’m not going to make a run for it,” I said, yet again tucking my hair behind my ears, straightening out the imaginary creases in my black linen button-up top.
The side eyes he gave me were full of doubt. “The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Liar.”
“The fact that I had to manhandle you out of the car—”
“Signifies nothing more than how very cool I think your car is.”
“Right.” I could tell he was laughing at me on the inside. “Come on, single lady.”
* * *
Not so subtly, he took hold of my elbow. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he expected some great escape attempt to happen at any moment.
Liking people was a bitch. Same with giving your word.
As we approached the building, I said, “I’ve been thinking about your money dramas. Wondering if I can help?”
He licked his lips. “You’ll pretty much do anything to delay this, won’t you?”
“I’m serious, I’ve been worrying about you all day, what with Nell not being able to buy the house like you’d hoped. I realize we haven’t known each other for long, but I’d like to help somehow if I can.”
A sigh. “I’m going to have to sell it to someone else. It’s going to suck, but that’s where my situation’s at.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” He wiped a hand over his face. “Don’t suppose you’d like to rethink your leaving town plan and make an offer?”
“I wish I had that kind of money. And a job.” A couple of years in real estate had enabled me to make a start on some savings. Nothing like what the Sanders Beach home would fetch, however. “I could give you some advice on the market, point you in the direction of a good agent and so on.”
“Yeah, ah … let’s talk about this another time. All right?”
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
A couple of young women passed us by, one doing a double take when she saw me. Next thing you knew, her mouth was going rapid fire against her friend’s ear. The friend turned back to look at me, giggling. Ugh.
“Maybe tonight’s a bit soon,” I said, edging back a step. “I mean, you need to concentrate on the bar and, really, Nell will be busy cooking, so—”
In one smooth move, he stepped in front of me, turning so we were face-to-face. His hands grabbed hold of my hips, drawing operation “get the hell out of here” to an abrupt halt. “Lydia?”
I blinked. “Vaughan?”
“We’re going in there and it’s going to be okay.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
He swallowed, stopping a moment to think. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Everyone could point and laugh at me, forcing me to relive the shame and horror of yesterday.”
“Yeah, true.” Fingers rubbed at the wide hips of my jeans as he held his face down close to mine. Not doing anything, just being there. “How’d you get through yesterday, though?”
“Running away, you, sarcasm, violence, and last but not least, tequila.”
“You can have everything today apart from the running away,” he said. “How’s that sound?”
“You want me to answer that honestly?”
“Nope. You’re going to have fun, Lydia.”
I highly doubted it, but it would be impolite to say so.
“And if anyone in there gives you shit, I’ll punch them for you.”
“My hand still hurts from yesterday, so thanks. I appreciate that.”
“No problem.”
We stood, staring at each other, smiling for one perfect moment. Then I smacked myself in the forehead. “Crap. It’s your first night at work and I’m putting all my drama on you again.”
He hung his head. “Yeah, you are.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Such a long and gusty exhalation. The man had big lungs. Also, bad friends, namely me.
“Vaughan?”
“On the plus side, when you get worked up your tits start heaving up and down with each breath. Magnificent. Honestly, I can’t get enough of it.” Little lines appeared on his forehead as his hands demonstrated the apparently bouncy-boob-like motions in front of his chest. “I’m tempted just to say shit to get you started, I love it so much.”
In the face of his broad grin, I had nothing.
Actually, that’s a lie. “I felt bad, you asshat.”
The good-looking asshole just smiled. Far in the distance the first star started twinkling and doing its thing in the gray and violet sky. Mountains loomed dark and ominous in the distance. Nature, the show-off. But it had nothing on Vaughan standing there, smiling. Lust, like, or whatever this was … I had it in the worst way. Maybe if he seemed in a good mood after finishing work, I’d raise my new-friends-having-sex idea with him. We were both only in town for a few days and the clock was ticking. His gaze flickered between my boobs and face, never quite settling on one or the other.
Nipples are little beasts, always reacting to everything, especially when you’d rather they be discreet. There’s a reason titillation starts with the word “tit.” So of course they got hard now, reveling in his attention. Ever so quickly, I crossed my arms, covering them up.
“I don’t even…” The words, they disappeared. “You make no sense. I mean, they’re covered. My shirt is buttoned up past any and all hint of cleavage.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can still see the shape of them. It’s enough to keep a man like me happy.”
“It’s like you have some sort of breast obsessive-compulsive disorder. Have you considered seeking counseling for your addiction?”
He sighed, face carefully set. “Nothing wrong with a man admiring a fine female chest. But if you disagree, feel free to hold it against me.”
I rolled my eyes.
* * *
“Right, so we’ve discussed both my shit and your shit. Are we done here?” he asked in an abrupt return to serious. “Can we go inside now?”
“Let’s.”
A nod.
“You’re going to be great,” I said, all enthused.
“You’re the one who’s nervous, not me. I’m all good, babe,” he teased.
“Very funny. Call me babe one more time and I’m out of here.”
Instead, he firmly guided me up the couple of front stairs and through the old glass doors.
Even though he might not have been nervous, I wasn’t so sure about his general state of mind. I think going to work for Nell was messing with his Zen cool guy guitarist philosophy big-time. Combine that with memorizing prices, cocktail recipes, the location of everything, keeping up with orders, keeping out of any other bartender’s way, restocking, and doing everything else involved in tending a bar and Vaughan had a busy night ahead of him. Hell, I think all of it, being back in town, breathing the northern Idaho air, living in what had once been his childhood home, his parents being gone, it had to be all screwing with his head. Add in the money woes and his band breaking up for extra damage. I couldn’t help but feel for him. We’d both had dreams go lopsided.
All day, he’d kept close, helping me find, then clean and pack, my belongings. We didn’t talk about anything deep and meaningful. Mostly just movies and music and places he’d been. Stories from life on the road. I’d gotten the distinct sensation that he wanted to keep himself occupied.
Understandable. Drama, gah. We’d both had our fill.
When we walked in I didn’t notice any recognizable faces, but I was still a wee bit agitated to be out in public.
“I’m here to be wowed by your bartending skills,” I said, slowly moving through the maze of customers and tables.
“Uh-huh. I’ll be sure to juggle some bottles and shit, light something on fire while I make your espresso martini.” He flicked the word off his tongue like pronouncing it was a trick all its own. “Or are you more of a margarita girl, hmm?”
“Today, I’m more of a water and ice girl. If you feel like getting fancy, Mr. Bartender, I’ll take a slice of lemon on the side. A straw, maybe.”
“Yeah?” Only a small smile curved his lips. Not nervous, my ass. He might be better than me at hiding things, but those things lingered there just beneath the surface nonetheless. Anyone willing to watch and care could see.
“Still feeling the pain from the tequila last night?” he asked.
“A little.”
He looked down at me, gaze softening. “Lydia—”
“There you are!” Nell rushed over, red hair strictly tied back, wearing a professional-looking black apron.
Vaughan frowned and checked his watch. “I’m right on time.”
A brow went up. “Did I say you weren’t?”
“Nice place.” I interrupted the potential argument before the two siblings gained momentum. “All of the dark wood with the raw brickwork and the giant windows. It’s got such a great atmosphere.” It truly did. Brutal might be the best word to describe the style of the place. Though there were traces of luxury and nods to the buildings 1920s origins too. A section of wall covered in ancient band posters had been preserved. A fancy black wrought-iron circle staircase sat in the corner, leading up to the closed-off second level. The wooden-topped metal-legged table-and-chair sets had an edgy industrial feel. But there were also booths with luxurious shiny black leather. It shouldn’t have worked yet it did. The temptation to settle in and order a drink, a plate of something to eat, was huge.
“It’s awesome, Nell.”
The wrinkle lines around Nell’s nose disappeared and her lips spread wide in obvious pleasure. “You like it?”
“I love it.” Chris would have sneered at the place for not being fancy enough, but screw him anyway. The bar felt comfortable, relaxing, despite all of the people turning our way, whispering. No. Okay. That was a lie. I wasn’t okay with this. Never had there been such a crappy idea. I should have stayed hidden away at the house.
Oh, no. Wait. My mistake. They were checking out Vaughan in his tight jeans. Fair enough. His ass was a work of art. I breathed out a sigh of relief. Excellent. Tonight would be good. I’d just blend in, chill out, and chat with Nell.
“Eric and his brother, Joe, did most of the work. Come and meet him. Joe, this is Lydia,” she hollered, snagging the attention of almost everyone in the bar.
Yeah, okay. Now all eyes were definitely turned my way. Bless Nell and her family’s extraordinary lung capacity. If only they’d use it for good instead of evil.
“You know, the one I told you about.” She grabbed my wrist and towed me through the labyrinth of tables toward the bar.
“I know,” the blond bear behind the bar responded, giving me a nod. Then his smiling eyes moved on to Vaughan. “Nice of you to let us know you were back in town, dickface.”
“Yeah, yeah. Nell’s already given me a hard time.” Vaughan reached across the bar, gripping the other guy’s thick shoulder. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too. How long you back for this time?”
“Not sure. Got a few things to sort out.”
Joe grunted understanding.
Joe appeared to be a mountain-man-bartender crossbreed. A Viking throwback, maybe. He was a big guy with big shoulders and a big blond beard. Clearly, there were far more northern Idaho sex gods than I’d given the region credit for. Further classifications were going to be required. If Vaughan topped the super-cool category, then maybe this new guy should win on the lumbersexual front. Given my abrupt return to singledom, I’d have to give this important man-classification system more thought.
Disclaimer: Objectifying people is wrong and stuff.
“Hear you’re hired,” said Joe to Vaughan.
“Yep.”
“Get on the right side of the bar, then.”
Vaughan laughed and did as told. Obviously, the bar itself was old and original. Names, dates, and every other marking imaginable had been scratched into the polished wood over god knows how many years of service. This place had real history. It was a decent-size bar, running alongside one of the interior walls. Behind it were shelves full of liquor. Every kind imaginable. Hidden down lights lit up the glass bottles beautifully. Below this sat a long row of beer taps; all the options were mind-boggling.
Clearly, the Dive Bar took its booze seriously.
“Hey, sis,” said Vaughan, lowering his voice.
“What?”
“Be nice.”
“I’m always nice.” Nell patted me on the arm, before turning back to her brother. “Don’t worry, your new girlfriend is safe with me. Right, let me quickly run you through the price list.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I said for the sake of anyone listening. “We’re just friends.”
“Yeah?” Joe scratched at his chin. “I’m single too.”
“Really?” I asked, immediately feeling embarrassed by how shocked I was.
The big guy shrugged, giving me a what-can-you-do look. “Working nights, place like this…”
Huh. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t meet a lot of women tending bar?”
Swear to god, there was a dimple hidden in that there beard. “I meet a lot of women. Not necessarily the kind you want to take home to Mom, you know? Not necessarily the kind looking to meet Mom either.”
“Not that there is anything wrong with that.”
“Absolutely not, ma’am.” Joe started checking me out with renewed interest, dark gaze lingering over my lady bumps. But as brawny and manly as the dude was, his being Vaughan’s friend and coworker made him a complication. Whatever happened between now and me putting this town in my rearview mirror, it would not involve complications.
Over my dead curvy unwed body.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not looking to meet, or not meet, your mother right now. Just got out of a bad relationship.”
“Heard about that,” he reported matter-of-factly.
“Yeah.” Ugh. “Awesome.”
“Did you really climb an eight-foot-high fence in heels and a wedding dress?”
“It was closer to six.”
The man puffed out his lips. “Still … impressive.”
“Thanks.”
The Beatles changed into the Arctic Monkeys and the scents coming from the kitchen were making my mouth water. Garlic, beef, food in general, all good things. Despite the music, I was reasonably certain everyone in a two-block radius heard my stomach rumble.
“Joe will be with you all night, ask him anything you need,” said Nell, wrapping up her brief tutorial.
“Right. Thanks.”
The two shared a smile.
“Remember what I told you about Lydia.” Vaughan gave his sister a serious look. “Don’t get her wet or feed her after midnight. She turns into this weird growly psycho animal. It’s not good.”
“I’m not a Gremlin,” I said.
“Wait.” With great drama, Vaughan smacked himself in the forehead. “My bad. It was tequila that did that. You can get her wet and feed her as much as you like, Nell. Just keep her away from tequila.”
I subtly scratched my cheek with my middle finger.
The jerk grinned while Joe snickered. Honestly, Nell was right. The sooner all men were sent to colonize the moon, the better for everyone.
“Anyone actually working here tonight?” A short dark-skinned woman dressed in a black Dive Bar T-shirt stood farther down the bar, tapping her talons on the stonework. She and Vaughan nodded to one another with familiarity.
“Any sign of Stella?” Nell asked her.
“No,” the woman answered. “My fellow waitress is still M.I.A.”
“That girl’s about to be out on her ass. I don’t care how great Eric thinks she is with the customers. Oh, Rosie, this is Lydia,” said Nell. “Lydia, this is Rosie, one of our waitresses. She’s been with us from the start. She was also in the same year at school as Vaughan. Say hi.”
“Hi.”
“Delaney’s runaway bride?” Rosie’s eyes lit up with interest. “I’ve been hearing about you all day. Is it true you climbed a ten-foot-high fence topped with barbwire?”
“She said it was closer to six,” answered Joe in his gravelly voice. “Didn’t hear anything about barbwire.”
The shine in the waitress’s eyes dimmed a little. “Still. Not bad for a woman in a wedding dress. Mine was so tight I couldn’t even get out of the limo without help. Did you know the groom and his best man took off to Hawaii?”
“No way,” said Nell.
My stomach sunk. “They went on the honeymoon?”
It made sense. Otherwise, the tickets would have gone to waste. Well, Chris’s tickets, at least. They would have had to buy new ones for the best man. Mine were nontransferable and I highly doubted travel insurance covered cancellation of wedding due to a scandalous sex tape. And yet, Chris and Paul were right now enjoying my romantic beach honeymoon. The effort I’d put into finding the right resort for us, the best room to start our wedding life off together perfectly. Wonder what they’d think of the massages and candle-lit dinners I’d booked. Suddenly my face felt swollen, my eyes hard and sore. No more crying.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t.
“I heard they’d gone too,” said a woman at a nearby table.
Too many people. There were too many people all up in my business. It gave me hives. Suddenly, all of the big windows, polished stone, and glossy worn-old-wood loveliness of the bar felt more like a trap. A stage with bright lights. My shoulders inched up, hiding me from view. Such a shit storm of titillation. I’d never given it much thought before, what it’d be like to be one of those people on the pages of magazines. Trailed around by paparazzi, having your life spread across the pages and dissected at every turn. And this was just a scandal in a small(ish) town. My aversion to attention, especially over something as embarrassing as this, made the Delaneys’s need to buy my silence all the more ridiculous. Those people didn’t know me at all.
I wanted my privacy back. To be just one more face in the crowd, doing my thing, living my life. Coeur d’Alene and I were done. Through. Kaput.
Amid the madness came a voice. “Hey.”
Vaughan’s eyes caught me, calming me. Gossip was not the end of my world. A few more days and I’d be out of here. The thought of leaving Vaughan bit, though he’d soon be on his way too. Back to the West Coast and the music biz. I’d make other friends. One day, I might even meet a man I could trust, someone I could make plans with.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” I lied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He leaned over the bar, getting closer, making a safe space just for me and him. “Asshole stole your honeymoon.”
“Meh. Bet he catches crabs.”
“Bet he gets sunburn on his balls.”
“Bet he accidentally gets fed to the sharks,” I said with great venom. “And there’ll be nothing left but this red froth in the churning water, just like in Jaws.”
“Nice.” Vaughan nodded in appreciation. “How do you see that happening?”
I bit my lip, pondering. “Maybe he’ll go out on one of those charter fishing boats and fall overboard. I don’t have all the details together yet.”
One side of his mouth curved upward, eyes set on me. Like, really focused solely on me. I checked my front teeth with my tongue. Nothing there that I could feel. Maybe there was a mark on my face or he’d just realized I was outside my healthy weight range or something.
“What?”
“You look looser now,” he said. “You’ve lost the bullshit plastic smile.”
“Have I?”
“Yeah.” He linked his fingers, exhaled. “All good, babe?”
“All good.” I was so happy he was there with me, I honestly didn’t even mind that he’d used the b-word.
“Don’t need me to hit anyone?”
“Nuh. I got this.”
“Okay.” He turned to his sister. “Nell, look after this woman, feed her.”
“On it.” Once more, his sister grabbed my hand. She towed me toward the kitchen, located beyond a low partition, apart from the gossip pit. Nirvana. Good food. Peace and relative quiet. And all of this with a view of Vaughan, my favorite combo of friend and man-candy, busting his moves at the bar. Awesome. Saved yet again by my tattooed redheaded hero in blue jeans.
Now if I could just figure out a way to return the favor.