Whatcha doing?
Me
Just leaving the bar.
I set my phone on my leg and start my truck, cranking up the heat. The late-April air holds a chill but also the promise of warmer days and nights to come. Before I can put the truck in reverse, my phone vibrates with his reply.
Wyatt
Come out. Just started a little fire.
I snort when I read his message. If I know Wyatt—and considering we’ve been friends since grade school, so I know him pretty well—there’s nothing small about it.
Me
It’s been a long day, man.
Wyatt
Bullshit. Get your ass over here. Don’t make me come lookin’ for you.
I sigh and drop my phone on the console before pulling out of the parking spot. When I reach the four-way intersection in the middle of downtown, I consider just heading for home. My own bed, an action movie on TV, and thoughts of a certain new bar owner plaguing my dreams, both awake and while sleeping.
As if on my own, I turn the wheel in the opposite direction, heading toward one of my oldest friend’s place. Not that I want to go to some bonfire gathering on a Sunday night, pushing ten o’clock, but I know Wyatt well enough that he’d just drive to my place and bang on the door until I opened it.
I’m not sure what to expect by going to Wyatt’s, especially at this point of the night. He’s not a huge partier. Hell, none of us really are anymore. Most of us seem to have gotten that out of our systems in our twenties. That doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy a rowdy night every now and again. You know, the night where you’re relaxed enough, comfortable enough, and the drinks are flowing. However, we always have someone who stays sober to make sure no one drives who shouldn’t, even in a small town like Cooper Town, where you can walk from one end of city limits to the other in a short amount of time.
Wyatt
Don’t be a loser. Get your ass over here.
I shake my head and make my decision, heading toward his place.
It doesn’t take long and I’m pulling into his long driveway. Wyatt lives just outside of town on six acres. It’s a small farm, a mixture of a little livestock and a patch of timber he uses for hunting deer, squirrel, and turkey. I head to where the fire is burning strong, the orange glow lighting up the night sky.
When I park my truck next to his, I climb out and say, “Sure it’s big enough?”
Wyatt chuckles. “Never,” he responds, pointing his beer at me. “I did call for backup.”
I reach into his cooler and grab a bottle of water. “I’m not on duty, and I don’t work for this department,” I remind him, even though it falls on deaf ears.
“Anyway, what’s up with you?” he asks, returning to his seat on a log near the fire.
“Not much. Just finished working,” I confirm, taking my own seat on another stump positioned near the blaze.
“Sorry I missed Charli’s birthday. We had a couple of cows get through the fence, so after Billy and I wrangled them, we spent some time fixin’ the damage.” Billy’s his brother, who was in Charli’s class in school. Together, they own a decent number of acres in this area and farm corn and soybeans.
I nod in understanding. When you have a farm, even a small one like this, it’s not your typical nine-to-five job. Things happen after hours. “No problem. We’ll catch you next time,” I tell him.
“So, tell me about the hottie.”
My eyebrows raise, and even though it’s dark, I can see the mischief in his eyes as he stares at me. I don’t ask who he’s talking about, because that would be an insult to both of our intelligence. Besides, we’ve known each other too damn long for that crap. “She’s interesting.”
“How so?”
I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling the heat of the fire more so than before. “Well, she’s not like I expected. She’s funny and caring. She seems to listen to what everyone is saying, and even though she wants to make the bar her own, her changes aren’t terrible. She named the place The Tipsy Lizard.”
When I look at my friend, he’s smiling. Widely. With a cocky glint in his eye.
