The moment I open the door to the oversized-barn-turned-brewery, the sound of some wannabe Dave Matthews guitarist strumming loudly over the quiet din of excited conversation makes me want to turn back around.
I almost do.
But then a hand pushes me forward. “Walker! You got my text.”
It’s Eli. He continues to walk us toward the bar, right smack in the center of the room. If I was going to stay here, which I’m not, I’d find a shadowed corner.
“Huh?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about because I blocked almost everyone other than my sister and Gail. And Tally.
Eli sets his elbow against the bar and angles toward me. “Glad you decided to come tonight. The guys and I have been hoping we’d see you here since last year.”
My brows fold in on themselves. “Why?” It’s a seriousquestion. Why in God’s name would anyone want to hang out with me? Since I moved here, I’ve done everything in my power to actively avoid becoming part of this town.
“Well, mainly because Fletch has a kid and you don’t. And most of the guys on the fire department are married. And Stew smells like cheese.”
I’m sure my facial expression says what I’m thinking:What the fuck?
Eli remains unbothered. “I’m just kidding.” He turns and faces the crowd. “Honestly, most of the guys I played hockey with don’t talk to me anymore since I got hurt and retired. And coming home and starting over feels more like a failure than I’d like to admit. For some reason, you seem like someone who gets that.” He raises his eyebrows, like he’s challenging me to disagree.
I let out a long sigh. “Can we drink and not talk?”
Eli’s face lights up. “First round’s on you.”
I huff a chuckle and nod toward Rosie, who is serving a growing crowd.
The band quiets and it gets a little louder in the bar as people start to chat during the break.
“Hello, guys. What can I get you?” Rosie sets napkins down in front of us, and I order a whiskey for myself and a blueberry beer for Eli. It’s one of the brewery’s specialties. I imagine Tally loves it.
Suddenly I’m bothered that I don’t know what she normally drinks. That I don’t really know much about her at all, except that she can bake one hell of a cupcake, she has an endless supply of different floral-smelling shampoos that I’m constantly stealing, her curves look incredible beneath her multicolored spandex, and she enjoys running every morning.I also know that right before she smiles she bites her lip like she’s not sure if she should show anyone that she’s momentarily happy. It makes me want to punch something because Tally has the kind of smile that should be permanently on display.
I know the way she tastes. The little sounds she makes when she’s surprised. And angry. And turned on.
Fuck, I guess I know a lot about her.
“What does Tally order?” The words stumble out of my mouth as Rosie sets my whiskey in front of me.
She lets out an amused snort, nodding behind me. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Shit. My elbows fall against the bar and my shoulders slump.
“Don’t go shy on me now, Cowboy,” Tally mumbles so quietly only I can hear her. Then she’s pushing in between Eli and me. “Gimme a shot,” she says louder to Rosie.
“Please. The word isplease,” Rosie shoots back.
Tally bats her eyelashes. “Boys, do you want to do a shot with me? My bestie owns the bar, so we can have whatever we want.”
“That’s not how this works,” Rosie grumbles, though she gets out three shot glasses and then reaches for a bottle of Fireball.
That answers one question. Of course she drinks Fireball. She’s twenty-six.
“None for me. We’ve got the festival tomorrow,” I remind her.
Tally bites on her lip before glancing up at me with a grin. “Just one. I promise.”
She turns away from me as Eli grabs his drink and theytap glasses before shooting them back while Penny comes up and sits on the other side of Eli.
