Ryan yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m so tired. I shouldn’t have had that second whiskey sour.”
“Same here. I hope I sleep tonight. Since making the move, I’ve had trouble. It’s so friggin’ quiet here, no sirens, no neighbors fighting at two a.m.”
Ryan laughed, her keys jangling in her hand. “Oh, I know. When I first came here, it took me several nights to get to sleep. It’s funny what your mind gets used to.”
“No kidding.” Skylar’s boots scuffed against the gravel lot.
“I’m parked over there,” Ryan said, gesturing toward a blue SUV under a flickering streetlight.
“I’m right here.” Skylar pointed to her own SUV. “I’ll wait until you get in your car.”
“Okay.” Ryan wrapped her in a tight hug. “Love you.”
“Love you too. Be safe.” Skylar squeezed back.
“You too.” Ryan’s footsteps crunched across the lot. Moments later, her car lights flashed, and the horn chirped, prompting Skylar to press her own key fob.
Once Ryan’s taillights disappeared from the lot, Skylar climbed into her SUV, the leather seat still warm from the day’sheat. She looked back at the neon beer sign glowing in the bar window and shook her head.
“Damn, why did you leave?” She started her SUV with a rumble, pulled out of the lot, and drove home along the empty streets. She knew she’d be dreaming of those dark eyes that had caught hers, that handsome face with its hint of stubble, and that killer smile that had made her stomach flip like she was sixteen again.
****
Rawley shouldered his way back through the sweaty crowd, jostled by elbows and hands holding drinks. When he finally reached the bar, he leaned over it, his stomach plummeting when he saw two other people on the stools where she and her friend had been.
“Damn it,” he muttered, scanning the crowded room. Maybe they’d just gone to powder their noses or reapply that cherry-red lipstick the blonde had been wearing. He slid onto the still-warm barstool, the leather squeaking beneath his weight, and drummed his fingers on the countertop. He’d wait a few minutes. The blonde had disappeared to the ladies’ room earlier, but she’d returned almost immediately. Perhaps the line had been too long, and she needed to try again now. “You’re reaching, man,” he muttered.
“Hey there, Rawley. Thought you’d ducked out on us,” Laura said, her bracelets jingling as she swiped a damp rag across the sticky bar surface.
“Bathroom line was murder.” He shook his head. “Practically needed a map to get back.”
Laura’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Two women were asking after you, seemed mighty interested.”
“Oh yeah?” His pulse quickened. “Which ones?”
“Already gone. They wanted to know if you’d left.” She shrugged apologetically. “Both beautiful, the blonde seemed really disappointed when I said you’d gone.”
“Blonde?” Rawley leaned forward. “Last stool, right there?”
“That’s the one. Had beautiful blue eyes. Sitting with a dark-haired woman.”
Rawley’s shoulders slumped. “Just my luck.” He drummed his fingers on the bar. “Thanks anyway, Laura. Think I’ll call it a night. Tell Dom I said hello.”
“Will do. Sorry about your missed connection.”
“It’s fine.” He forced a smile. “Probably just a tourist passing through, and Lord knows I don’t need to get tangled up with someone who’s already got one foot out the door.”
“No. They both said they’d just moved here.” Laura smiled.
Rawley grinned as he touched his Stetson, navigated the maze of bodies, and stepped into the wall of humid night air that greeted him outside. Sweat immediately beaded on his forehead as he cursed under his breath. Fall couldn’t come soon enough, this summer was going to be the death of him.
****
The following Saturday, Skylar sat at the kitchen table, cradling her blue ceramic mug between both palms, the coffee inside black as tar and twice as bitter. Through the window above the porcelain sink, heat rose from the asphalt driveway in translucent waves, distorting the dusty juniper bushes beyond. Lord, she hated hot weather, the way it plastered her thin cotton blouses against her damp shoulder blades, the way her hair expanded into a frizzy halo. Give her instead the amber light of October, with its frost-tinged dawns and honey-gold dusks. She yearned for the embrace of oatmeal-colored cable-knit sweaters, the comforting creak of her boots, the whisper of that burgundy cashmere scarf against her neck. This infernal heat had drivenher to purchase the pine-scented A-frame nestled among the towering ponderosas near the Sierra Nevada. She’d flee there whenever the California thermometer climbed past eighty, seeking refuge among cool granite and whispering pines. She’d definitely been born in the wrong state, though she cherished California’s familiarity, she’d never been one for salty air and scorching sand between her toes. She was glad Montana was a little cooler and she had her A/C on high.
Her phone vibrated against the wooden table with a harsh buzz. She turned it over to see Ryan’s number and her beautiful face, on the screen and pressed the green button.
“Good morning,” she answered, voice still morning rough.
