I popped my bag down on a wooden bench that ran around the wall and followed her back out to the bar. I glanced over at the other barmaid, she was gorgeous, and much taller than my five foot five. She had long brunette hair, an olive complexion, full lips, and a figure any girl would die for.
“Hi, Amy, I’m Grace,” she smiled. “Don’t worry about Shelley—she comes across a bit harsh, but deep down she’s a softy. That’s Clint.” She indicated to a guy of medium height and medium build, with short, spiky, sandy-blond hair, who was busy chatting to some pretty girls at a table. “He serves the tables and collects glasses, and we stay behind the bar. Sing out if you need me.” Grace moved off to serve a gray-haired man with a wide, purple-veined nose.
The night was busy. I settled into a routine quickly, pouring a merry-go-round of beer, spirits, and the odd shots. We didn’t get a chance to chat much, but when we did, Grace was nice, quick to laugh, and bubbly. The bar began to fill up shortly after six. All the seats around the bar were filled, except for two at the very end where the man had sat yesterday.
When we got a reprieve in serving, I asked Grace, “What’s the deal with the empty stools at the end of the bar?”
“Everyone knows when Karson and Ethan are in town, they are reserved for them. If you sit there, let’s just say it won’t end well for you.”
“Karson.” His name rolled over my tongue as if I were tasting it.
Grace nodded, leaning in she said in a low tone, “He’s the owner. He looks tough and he is. You don’t want to piss him off.”
The warning washed over me like a cool wave. She must have taken in the look on my face because she patted my shoulder and said, “Just keep your head down and do your job and you’ll be fine.”
Could Ethan be the same guy I met yesterday? Danger seemed to ooze from his pores, so it probably was. Were both men so violent that the whole town was scared of them? I turned to ask Grace, but she had drifted off and was chatting to a man at the bar.
“Amy, come meet Matt.”Grace waved me over. “Matt is the town sheriff.”
I looked across to meet brown, curious eyes. Matt had dark short hair, and a smooth olive complexion. He seemed young for a town sheriff, no more than thirty I guessed.
“Amy, it’s nice to meet you. How are you finding Church Heights?” He spoke in a quiet, steady tone.
“It’s nice. I like it.”
“I heard you like to run.”How does he know I like to run? “Don’t venture too high up the mountains. The weather can change in an instant. The mountains can be treacherous, and we get the odd bear. We’ve had a few hikers disappear over the years. The last one was a young girl, not much older than you.”
“Did you ever find any trace of her?”
“No, we searched for days, but we found nothing.” He dropped his gaze to the bar, fiddling with a coaster. “It’s like she just vanished.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise. So far, no bears—just the odd wolf,” I reassured him.
He jerked his head up. “Wolf? Are you sure?”
“Only the one, a big black one . . . why?”
He stared at me. “How big?”
“I’m not sure, I haven’t been too close, but maybe . . .” I held my hand above my waist, “about here. But it seems harmless enough.”
His eyes flared. Grace chuckled as if the height was exaggerated, and maybe it was, everything seemed bigger when it could eat you.
“What?” I said to Matt, ignoring Grace.
He shook his head, relaxing and took a sip of beer. “We just don’t see many wolves around these parts anymore. Most of them were wiped out years ago.”
“It’s not the wolves you have to worry about—it’s the ghosts,” Grace said in a spooky, playful voice.
Matt smiled at her, amused, then gulped the last of his lager down. “Thanks for the beer.” He collected a beige cowboy hat off the seat, put it on, and nodded. “See you around, Amy.”
I watched him saunter out the door and then turned back to Grace. “Ghosts? Really, Grace?”
“Legend has it, Amy.” She grinned and moved back down to the end of the bar to serve.
Vampires, ghosts... what was next? Werewolves and dragons? I huffed a laugh and shook my head. Too many bored people with wild imaginations—all par for the course when they spent years in a small town, it seemed.
I was busy serving when a vibration prickled my neck; it was that inexplicable feeling of being watched. I turned involuntarily, like someone had called my name. Crystal-blue eyes hooked mine, the same ones I’d lost brain cells to yesterday.
