“Um…did you want to schedule another session?”
“What?”
“For your back,” he says delicately, gesturing to me.
My back. My back, which he just saw. My back, which makes it obvious to anyone that I can’t play football and haven’t for a very long time. Does he know what happened?
Hell, the whole world knew. I was all over the national news for two weeks and then forgotten. Of course, he probably does.
There is no way to even fake the bravado I had back then that was so appealing to him. Dropping my gaze, I shake my head and shuffle around him.
“No.”
“Well, I… If you…” he stammers behind me as I reach for the door handle, but then blurts, “Take care!”
Take care.There’s a polite brush off if I’ve ever heard one.
It’s official. Whatever appeal he once found in me has worn off. Maybe he was only stammering because he was worried some ex-NFL player he used to screw, who got drunk at a fancy party he didn’t fit in at, and then smashed his car into a guardrail, would make things awkward. I push outside and tromp across the parking lot to my truck, hating myself a little more than I thought was possible.
CHAPTER 6
Remy
Flashing red and blue lights whir past my car down Route 281 as Jamie and I head home from the restaurant we stopped at near the airport. The traffic up ahead slows down.
“Great,” he enthuses from my passenger seat.
I love him, but I can only handle his complaining in small doses. Getting stuck in gridlock after listening to his adventures in Unclehood over dinner will require a little more focus than I’m currently willing to give at the moment. Luckily, we approach a turnoff, and I follow other like-minded travelers who have the same idea as me.
“We’ll take the scenic route,” I inform him.
“Are you up for finding a watering hole on the scenic route?”
I snort, noticing how some of the animation has gone out of him now that his belly is full. After a few blocks, I turn down a street that should eventually cross the one that runs to my house. As we ride in companionable silence, I take in the contrast of the houses to my own. I realize it’s the Monte Vista neighborhood, easily identifiable by the rows of large trees lining the streets and the spacious yards. I always loved this area for the unique architecture of the homes. They’re a mix of historic brick structures and European revival. There is nothing wrong with the craftsman I snagged, but, hey, a guy can admire beauty.
We settle on a quaint but well-kept-looking little bar called Mahoney’s, since it’s the first one we see in the predominantly residential area. Once inside, it’s clear that if the place has a theme, it’s a sports bar, judging by the many posters and signs on the walls and the number of televisions.
“Ah, beer and testosterone. Perfect,” Jamie sighs and heads toward an open high top in the back. Once we’re seated, he rests his elbows on the table and scrubs his hands over his face. I shouldn’t find so much amusement in his misery, but he’s razzed me enough over the years, I can’t help it.
“Are you going to live?”
Huffing a laugh, he picks up a sticky-looking drink menu tower. “Yeah. I feel better already. Thanks for picking me up.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure TSA would have called me if I’d left you at the airport for too long.”
I get a kick in the shin for my remark, but he snickers and calls me an unkind pet name. As I rub my leg, he drops the menu and folds his arms, glancing impatiently around the place.
“I’m guessing this is one of those classy joints where you have to go up to the bar and wait for the bartender to notice you.”
Rolling my eyes, I get up. “I’ll go. You are my guest after all.”
“Mighty kind of you.”
Leaning back on his stool, he threads his fingers behind his head. Judging by his smug expression, he has no problem being waited on. I’m not sure why I missed him, but it’s good to see him in person again.
Luckily, the bar isn’t crowded. Only a few patrons occupy spots along the worn wooden structure. I slide in between two empty stools and glance down the bar to wait for the bartender.
My gaze snags on a bulky frame one stool down, a presence that’s too big to avoid. Just as I go to look away, I do a double-take. I’d know that profile anywhere.
