Brynn
phone buzzed on the bar. She leaned over and looked at it, and immediately turned as red as her hair. All at once, she stretched her arms over her head and let out the biggest, fakest yawn I'd ever seen. "Oh man, today really wore me out though," she babbled. "Last days are so chaotic. I think I should head home."
I glared at her.
"What?" she said, squirming guiltily.
"Was that from Cole?" I said leaning forward to try to see her phone screen.
She snatched her phone away, turning even redder.
"That is a blatant newlywed booty call if I have ever seen one," I laughed, sitting back. "Fine. Go home. Fuck your husband. It's fine."
Autumn was almost magenta as she gathered up her things, which made me laugh even harder. "Have you done it in the basement yet?" I called as she scurried out the door. "Try the basement this time!"
I was still laughing as the door slammed behind her. But my laugh died away as I tried not to feel jealous.
No, I needed this summer to work out myself, I told myself, ignoring how hollow that pronouncement felt.
"She sure left fast," my father said, sidling up to the side of me and grabbing Autumn's half-empty bottle. "Didn't even finish her drink."
"I know. It bothers you when people leave drink undrunk, doesn't it?" I teased my dad.
"No skin off my back," he shrugged. "They pay for it either way."
"You don't charge Autumn to drink here," I reminded him.
He shrugged again. "Guess I'm an idiot then," he said.
I sat up straighter in a protective huff. "Stop, you're not an idiot, you know I hate when you talk about yourself that way."
"Yeah, well, I have my idiotic moments," my dad said. His voice got a little softer, and a little heavier, that ragged note around the edges that I hated to hear.
"Hey, stop it!" I said, reaching over and smacking the bar in front of him. "Snap out of it."
"I'm fine," my dad grumbled."
"You sure? You're not thinking about her?"
"I think about your mother every damn day," my father grumbled. "Doesn't do anything, doesn't mean anything."
I could feel my cheeks heating in a familiar righteous rage. "Sure it does."
"I know you would like me to just reach with a melon baller and scoop out the part of my brain that was with her for all of those years, but I can't do that, Brynn," my father said, looking me in the eye. "Your mother's not like a limb I can just amputate off my body. She was my wife for eighteen years."
"She still is your wife," I reminded him coolly. "Wherever she is."
"Don't you start on me," my dad warned.
"I'm not starting. I'm merely reminding. The papers for the divorce are all worked out, you know that. Just waiting for you to sign them. You have ample grounds on abandonment."
"Yes, well," my dad grumbled, looking down and wiping away a nonexistent spot on the bar. "I have a feeling that's not what she wants."
"She doesn't get to have an opinion on anything anymore," I said, trying and failing to keep the anger from rising in my voice. "If she wanted to have her opinion matter she could've stayed home. Stayed with us."
My dad sighed and didn't say anything and all at once I felt like an asshole. "Hey, go home," I said. "Take the night off. It's not too busy in here."
"Really?" My dad did his eyebrow arching routine again. "This is your first night of the summer, and you want to spend it in my smelly old bar?"
"I love your smelly old bar," I told him. I grabbed his rag out of his hand and flicked him with it. "Come on. How often do I do this?"
"Fine," he grumbled. "Don't burn the place down."
"Don't give me any ideas," I called as I slid behind the counter. I heard my father muttering all the way back out to his car and grinned.
I wiped a few glasses, and refilled a few drinks, but on the whole it was a quiet night. I was considering closing up earlier than our usual 11 PM, but it was the night before the real tourist season started. This was the last night that our bar would really belong to us, and I wanted to keep it open for the locals for as long as possible.
But as the clock crept closer and closer to eleven, I started wondering if maybe I should just pack it in.
When the door slammed open, I was irritated by whoever it was that finally showed up just when I decided to go home. Then I sat up a little straighter and saw Everett McCabe walking towards the bar.
"You look like you've had a pretty shitty day," I remarked as he sat on the stool.
It was true, there were deep circles under his eyes, and his normally crisp, pressed appearance was rumpled and faded looking.
But even with all of that, he still made my breath quicken a little.
He ran his fingers through his thick, slightly too long hair, leaving it standing up straight in their wake. "And what would my Boy Scout security detail like to drink tonight?" I prompted.
"Just give me something strong," he said, sounding exhausted.
"Good idea," I said, reaching for a top shelf bourbon.
"The master saleswoman, pushing me towards the top shelf stuff, huh?" he said, perking up a little bit.
"Come on, I know you have more money than God," I teased.
"You do?" He arched an eyebrow. "How in the world would you know that?"
"Small town," I reminded him. "I probably know way more about you then you'd like me to."
He coughed into the back of his hand a little. "Now you've really got me curious," he said and was there a twinkle in his eye? Did Rett's eyes really twinkle or would he consider that frivolous and against some internal protocol?
I set the bottle in front of him. He looked down and then back up at me skeptically. "I'm only drinking this is if you drink with me," he said smiling.
There was a deep dimple that shadowed his left cheek, giving a slight asymmetry to his normally smooth and perfectly handsome face. When he smiled, that mask he wore came alive. I found myself smiling right back, remembering how he'd come alive that New Year's...in the closet...
"What the fuck?" I said, shaking my head to clear it. I shrugged, grinning. "I'm not actually working. I don't really even have a job right now."
"Then cheers to that! Wish I could say the same," Rett said, lifting his glass. "Are we doing this as a shot?"
"Oh yeah," I looked down at the shot glass. "You're probably supposed to sip it right?"
"Whatever. Drink," he ordered me.
We both tossed them back.
"Ah, that hits the spot," Rett said as I coughed. "Glad I came by here."
"You're just using me to get free shots," I accused him.
He cocked his head. "You used me that New Year's," he reminded me
I was really proud of myself for not blushing. "I did. You are very useful," I said with a grin, knocking back another shot. "And you were useful last night too."
Rett nodded satisfied. "I pride myself on being useful."
"Like a Swiss Army knife?" I teased.
He patted his pockets. "I have one of those you know."
Feeling the effects of the alcohol, I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the bar. "Oh, is that what you call it?" I said, biting my lip.
I expected him to go red and back off, but he leaned forward. Maybe he was feeling the alcohol too. "I don't know, you saw it that night. Is that how you'd describe it?"
"It was dark," I stammered and succumbed to the blush that was crawling across my cheek.
He smiled and sat back, and sipped his drink as I poured mine right down my throat. He let that awkward silence stretch out a beat too long before he finally asked, "Were you closing?"
I nodded vigorously. "I was about to, yeah."
"Did you walk here?"
I nodded again. "I did. My place’s only three blocks away."
He stood up. "I'll walk you home now," he said calmly. "Since you're tipsy."
My first instinct was to wave him off. I don't like it when people fuss over me. I doubly don't like it when people fuss over me because I'm a girl and need to be protected or whatever.
But there was something in his tone that allowed no room for argument. So I went for teasing instead. "Now I'm using you as a security detail," I said, coughing against the back of my hand.
He smiled and stretched out his hand, beckoning me without a word, and for some reason I'll never quite understand, I let him lead me.
I locked up and set the alarm and then we walked out into the warm night. Rett rested his hand lightly on the small of my back. Casually enough to be friendly, but somehow...not.
"As your security detail, I need to know. Are you feeling secure?" he asked.
I walked two steps and then stumbled as my right foot caught my left. "Yes," I giggled. "But I don't feel very steady on my feet." Without meaning to, I pressed up against him and his hand slid up to steady me, gripping my upper arm.
There was something about the way he held me, so tight and firm, it was like leaning up against a tree trunk. I could feel the warmth of his skin under his dress shirt, and all around us were the mingled smells of bourbon, his laundry detergent, his aftershave, and something undefined that just smelled like him. I'd last gotten a good lungful of it that night in the closet and it was a scent that made me feel safe and wary at the same time.
We walked quietly, me leaning on him as helped me navigate the cracked pavement which turned into a rutted gutter which turned into a field, before we turned the corner to my street. We walked in the middle of the road, unworried about any cars coming by and I swear we both slowed as we reached the front of my house. I didn't want him to stop holding me, and he didn't let go.
As we walked up the porch, my motion sensor light clicked on and with it my thoughts clicked back into reality. "Well, thanks," I said, stepping back and trying to figure out why my head was swirling.
But Rett wasn't looking at me. "Do you have boots?" he asked, looking off to the side.
"Boots?" I asked. "Yeah, I have a bunch of boots. I'm a bit of a boot addict." Why was I babbling?
Rett pursed his lips and pointed. "With tread like that?" he asked.
I look where he was pointing. There just under my front window was a single boot print, deeply sunk into the mud.
"No," I said as my voice grew fainter. "That's not mine."