I took the idea of Raleigh’s “teenage survival kit” and sort of went wild with it. There was a twin bed in her room and I’d bought extra sheets for it, storing an extra-extra set in the closet (with an assortment of neutral colors because I had no idea if she was a frilly-pink girl or an all-black-everything girl). I folded spare pajamas and stored them away in her dresser, and even hid the sweets Raleigh had bought inside. When every inch of her space was immaculate, I stood in the middle of her bedroom, taking it all in. I started to feel a little less scared and more… excited? I’d probably gone overboard, and there was a chance Hannah wouldn’t want anything to do with any of it, but I still couldn’t wait to show her.
Too wired to sleep, I got to work on the rest of the house, putting things away in the kitchen, bathroom, and my own bedroom. The early hours of the morning crept by, but I didn’t care; I was relishing in the excitement of this new chapter in my life.
I had a job interview tomorrow at a local bar. I could’vechosen something more stable, but bartending was what I knew and loved. It was also the only part of my old life I could hold onto here.
I dug through my suitcase to find my white button-up shirt and my best pair of jeans, feeling a sudden pang of loss: they looked lonely without my Devil’s Hopyard vest. I looked from the clothes to my phone, having a sudden urge to call Raleigh.
I shook the thought away. I needed to learn to do things on my own.
It was just me now.
Chapter 8
My alarm wentoff way too early after I’d stayed up until dawn. I pulled myself into the shower before I could convince myself to stay in the nice, warm bed. Fed up with my hair tickling my face and lookingtoodisheveled, I tied it back as best I could with an elastic band, forming a man-bun on the back of my head. Small tendrils still fell down into my eyes, but it was a huge improvement and looked a little better.
I remembered to grab my leather jacket on the way out. October in Vegas and October in Salem were about as different as night and day. By this time in Vegas, the temperature would be climbing into the seventies, whereas fall in Salem had the kind of chill that creeps into your bones—and stays there. The snowy season hadn’t started yet, but if the overcast sky was any indication, it was well on its way.
I didn’t know much about the bar I was going to, which meant it must’ve been built in the last decade—one of only a few things to change about the town in my absence.
Liz’s was nestled between a tattoo parlor and a hair salon.What a combination.The three places shared the same brickbuilding, neon signs above each door. The signs over the parlor and salon flashed, but Liz’s was dark. Not a surprise, considering the owner said he was having me come in before he opened to give us some privacy, which I was grateful for. I was nervous enough about the job interview without having people turn their heads to stare when I walked into the place.
In my car, I steeled myself to step back into the cold. It hit me as soon as I turned my car off and the heat stopped blowing. I took slow steps toward the entrance, annoyed that the shivers going through me made me feel more nervous. I was one of the hottest bartenders in Vegas—this small-town owner would be lucky to have me.
My mind flashed back to almost two decades ago, when I’d first approached The Devil’s Hopyard. I don’t even remember what it was called back then. The feeling couldn’t have been more different: sun shining, heat beating down and seeming to tan my skin by the second, then-young-Ryder swaggering up to the front door with the confidence of?—
Okay, maybe not so different. I put on my signature smile, feeling warmer and braver already. So I was starting over again. No big deal. I hadn’t planned on staying in Vegas so long anyway.
I pulled the front door open against a gust of wind, letting out a sigh of relief as I was blasted with heat from inside. I didnotmiss New England weather.
A bell chimed as I stepped over the threshold, and I paused to catch the door behind me. With the exception of the sad daylight filtering in through the windows, the room was dark. Where the Hopyard had three bars, this place only had one, but it was gorgeous. I itched to run my hands along the deep, polished mahogany. Gold accents played along the shiny taps and dim spotlights illuminated the bottles lining the shelves.
Booths occupied the wall to my right and tables dottedalong the left, separated by an aisleway down the middle. A pool table took up the empty space in front of the restrooms, and an old jukebox sat in the back corner next to a door that opened, a man walking through it.
My heart picked up pace before he even came into full view. Holy hell. I’d never felt my temperature spike—or my dick harden—so fast in my life.
He had his face in his phone, dark, sideswept hair blocking him from seeing me. His black V-neck stretched tight across bulging muscles. Jeans that seemed perfectly tailored to his body hung low on his hips. My hands were jealous of the way the denim curved around his ass. I tried to take a quiet breath, but my body forgot how, and I coughed instead.
His head snapped up, fingers frozen mid-text. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.” He pocketed his phone and rushed to me, hand outstretched. “I’m James.”
As he moved into an errant beam of sunlight, my eyes were drawn to the silver streaks in his hair and the shine of the silver chain around his neck. I placed my hand into his—and nearly dropped it again at the shock of his cold fingers, but he held on tight, shaking it.
“Ryder,” I said. “Sorry, still readjusting to the cold.”
“I’ve been here for years—I don’t think you ever adjust.” He dropped my hand and motioned for me to follow him. “Come sit down and tell me how in the hell two twenty-five-year-olds wound up running one of the hottest bars in Vegas. If I hear The Devil’s Hopyard one more time, I might have to fly out and see it for myself.”
I laughed and trailed behind him. “I wondered the same thing when they first took over, but they really know their shit. The two of them make a good team.”
“Siblings?”
“Best friends, and husbands. They’re so cute it’s nauseating.”
I noticed James was watching me out of the corner of his eye as he busied himself with pulling chairs down. I tried not to squirm as his eyes raked over my body. I shifted, trying to cover my erection without being too obvious. Why had I chosen to wear such tight jeans? I usually wore thembecausethey were tight, but now they were working against me.
“How long were you there?”
“The bar itself? Or with Double Trouble?”
James grinned, revealing perfectly white teeth. “Were they that bad?” He laughed at my “don’t get me started” look. “Either one.”
