Lincoln stood behind the bar,laughing at something Frank said as he wiped the top with an old rag. I watched their interaction with a smile from my seat beside the old man. It had quickly become one of my favorite things.
It’d been five days since I drove across the Tennessee state line.
Five days of absolute bliss at Lincoln’s side, getting lost on mountain back roads and visiting his favorite spots in town.
Five days of avoiding my family’s cabin, choosing instead to sleep in a stranger’s bed and have the best sex of my life.
Five days of knowing all of this had an expiration date I refused to acknowledge.
We spent our days driving up and down mountain roads with the windows down in Lincoln’s old Ford. He showed me the little house where he’d grown up and took me to his favorite restaurants. The rest of the time we’d spent in his bed, unable to keep our hands off one another. We talked in the quiet moments after sex. I’d learned the way he took his coffee, howhe preferred chicken to steak, and the scent of his favorite candle.
This familiarity was something I’d never experienced before. If Lincoln’s long, lingering touches were anything to go by, he hadn’t either. We were like two magnets, our force too strong to ignore.
The night after my momentary freak out on the highway, Lincoln hadn’t let me out of his sight. I’d come to work with him every night, watching him talk to strangers and friends alike. I’d tried to stay out the way of paying customers, but Frank and Lincoln were having none of that. The old bar owner welcomed me with open arms. I liked him. He was the type of gruff old bastard who didn’t take any shit. Best of all, he had more dirt on Lincoln than I ever imagined possible.
Honestly, Frank reminded me a bit of my dad. He’d told me about his years spent as a bull rider. By my calculations, his time likely overlapped with Dad’s. I’d almost asked him about it a time or two, but I decided against it. Family was the one line Lincoln and I hadn’t crossed.
“Last call! Get your beers, pay your tabs, and then get on home.” Lincoln’s voice boomed out over the low buzz of conversation. Groups began gathering their belongings, meandering toward the door with glazed eyes and high spirits. I downed the rest of my beer and grabbed an empty grey tub to pick up half-drunk glasses.
As the last customer walked out, Lincoln flipped off the flashing neon ‘open’ sign and locked the door.
“You look good in neon, darlin’,” he said, stealing a kiss and the tub of dishes. “Grab the broom for me?”
This had become our nightly routine. He always washed the dishes while I swept and mopped. Sometimes, just like the first night, he wandered over to the jukebox and picked a song. Then he’d sing into the worn brown handle, putting on a concert meant just for me.
It was my favorite time of day.
Each time, it made me want to dance along with him. I favored the slow tunes, the ones he’d croon softly as he wiped down the bar. I wanted to hear him whisper them into my ear as he swayed to the beat of the familiar song.
I’d just grabbed a hold of the broom when Frank’s voice made me pause.
“You got a great girl there, Linc,” he said, tapping his fingers on the bar top.
“Yeah, I do,” Lincoln said, a smile in his voice.
“When’s she going back?”
My grip on the handle grew tighter. I peeked around the corner, watching them even though I knew better.
I learned from an early age what eavesdropping would get you. That was how I found out dogs didn’t just go to a different farm to live out the rest of their days.
“Dunno,” Lincoln said. “I haven’t asked her.”
A pause. “Don’t you think that might be a good idea?”
Lincoln shook his head as he closed the lid to the dishwasher. He braced his hands on either side of the sink, letting his head drop between his shoulders. “Probably, but I don’t want to. Not yet. Besides, what if she decides to stay? She said she was looking for an escape, a place to clear her head… What if this is that?”
I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the handle. This had gone too far. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t stay. The thought had crossed my mind a million times since I’d walked through the front door of this bar and into Lincoln’s arms. I had a life back in Texas—my family, the ranch, and a job I didn’t completely hate. Dad wanted to bring me on full time at the ranch to alleviate his stress, and I was excited about the prospect of doing something worthwhile.
God, why hadn’t I left earlier? There’d be no way to leave without hurting one or both of us. There’d been so many signs togo. It’d felt too good. And what was that saying about things being too good to be true?
For five days, I’d felt blissfully free from all responsibilities and burdens, letting myself be blissfully happy. But things were changing. Getting too serious too fast. I would’ve been a damn liar if I said I hadn’t thought about staying in this state.
In this bar.
In Lincoln’s arms.
But I couldn’t linger any longer. I pushed open the door leading back into the bar as Frank began to speak, but he saw me and stopped. I looked toward Lincoln, who gave me a soft, tender smile that broke my heart into a million pieces.
