We shall see which one Mister Mysterious is.
I take my time getting out of my car, looking around the parking lot.
I really did miss this town.
If the packed parking lot is any indication, the bar must already be bustling inside.
Walking up the steps, I swing the door open, and I’m instantly met with the smell of cigarettes and burgers. Making my way in, I don't bother looking around. I head straight to the bar.
"Hey, June!" I shout to the elderly bartender on shift tonight as I settle onto a barstool.
I've known June since I was a little girl. Oddly enough, she used to babysit me and Kasten. She’s rough and tough and always perfectly grumpy.
"Izabel Landry…” She eyes me over, unimpressed. "I'd ask what you'd like, but by the lack of meat on your bones, I'm choosing for ya. Joe is in the kitchen tonight, he'll whip you up a big-ass burger. You need it." Her tone is dry and unamused.
She turns and walks away toward the kitchen, leaving me standing there, actually speechless and unable to react.
I hear a deep chuckle next to me, feeling someone drop onto the barstool to my right.
I don't look up. I shake my head and mumble in amusement, "The saying rings true. There is no place like home."
Then a smooth, somehow familiar voice to my right calls out, "Hey, beautiful." I turn to meet the blue eyes of Mister Mysterious from the fuck-me app. Those eyes—just as familiar as the rest of him. But why? What the fuck am I missing here?
I chuckle, unimpressed. "That's really the best pickup line you've got?"
He shrugs. "If you want a total replay as your reminder, I'm down."
Huh?
His hands grip my thighs, spinning me on my barstool. Before I know it, he's facing me, staring into my fucking soul, grabbing the barstool between my legs, and pulling me to him.
It all clicks just as he leans in, mere inches away from taking me by the mouth.
I push him back, gasping. "You're the fucking guy from the bar!"
He backs up, throwing his head back on a laugh. "Yeah, Firecracker. I'mthefucking guy," he says, tone smooth, and my center clenches.
His eyes hold mine, gaze intense, and it does something to me. Not just physically—I want to knowmoreabout him, but I’m cautious.
What the fuck!?
This is not how this was supposed to go.
Wait.
I say slowly, "That was two years ago in Arkansas. . . And, now, you just so happen to be in bum fuck Sugarland, Louisiana?" My confusion grows as I try to piece together why he was in my college town, and, coincidentally, why he's now in my hometown. All the alarm bells in my head start blaring.
Without breaking his eye contact, I open my clutch on the bar and grab for my mace.
“Are you fucking stalking me!?” I shout, holding up the can of pepper spray. "I may fuck around, but I will not be finding out!"
He holds his hands up as he pushes back from me a bit, and I can see his chest begin to heave with anxiety. "Wait. I'm not fucking stalking you! Is that what you think?!"
Still holding the mace directly in front of his face, I stand and take a few steps back.
"Iz, you okay?" A familiar voice calls from the pool tables across the bar.
"Yeah, Jimmy. I got this."
