“Fancy getting the guitars out?” Oliver said. “It’s been years since I’ve had an impromptu jam session and Keren was telling me how talented you were.’
Scott looked at her, his eyes darkening.
“It was complimentary,” she said. “I told Olly about the first time I heard you sing.”
His brow creased.
“When was that?”
“I was seven. You were in the school Christmas concert and you sang solo.”
The memory visibly registered with him. “You remembered that?”
She nodded, biting back the comment she had lined up about his balls dropping.
“I’ll call back and grab my guitar,” Oliver said. “But maybe leave the Christmas carols for a few months?”
The Last Temperance Bar was fairly busy; regulars and tourists huddling round tables and crowding the bar. Abby was putting on a show behind the bar, twirling glasses and juggling shakers, accepting compliments and tips and declining any offers of dates.
“What can I get you to drink?” Oliver asked as they found a table that was just being vacated. “Cocktail? Wine?”
“I’ll have a margarita,” Keren said. “And a glass of water.”
He gave her another dimpled smile and headed to the bar, leaving her with his guitar.
“Hey,” Patsy Mason, Severton’s new doctor sat down opposite her. “You don’t mind if I perch here? I get that you’re on a date with Oliver, but I figured they’ll both be abandoning us for the stage in a moment.”
Keren assessed her, seeing the smile that was a little tight and the eyes that were a little wide. She was nervous. But then she was a new person in a town where everyone really did know each other and had done for a long time. It wasn’t that Severton was wary of newcomers; it wasn’t, but Keren got that moving anywhere new was intimidating.
“Sure. Although we won’t be alone for long. The rest of the Maynards and their hangers on will be here in about ten minutes, as soon as word gets out that Scott’s doing an acoustic set. How are you finding Severton?” Keren said, realising she was going to go through the same set of questions as she had with Oliver.
Patsy nodded, looking at the table. “It’s different. Which I needed. Really friendly and… I think ‘quirky’ is the best way to describe it. Scott told me you came back here after qualifying as a dentist?”
Keren gave her the history, feeling proud of herself for not saying anything derogatory about her nemesis. “I don’t know if I’ll stay here though,” she confessed at the end. “I’m not sure how I’m moving forward.”
A pitcher of margaritas was placed in front of them by Oliver. “Sorry, ladies. I know this isn’t usual date protocol, but Scott said that you wouldn’t mind?”
Keren shook her head. “Go ahead. Do your thing. Sing a song for me, just don’t let Scott pick it.”
Oliver smiled and nodded, heading back to setting up the stage.
“He’s nice. Good looking. Good with money. Why would you want to leave that?” Patsy said, pouring the margaritas into the salt rimmed glasses that were more like fish bowls. Abby had clearly got the message. Friday night was alright for tequila.
“First date. And yeah, you’re right in some ways. But I’d like to meet someone and settle down. I’m not sure I’m going to meet anyone in Severton. I’ve either dated them already or know all the secrets that would put you off.”
Patsy laughed. “Online dating?”
“Have you seen what’s on there for our age group?” Keren said, really hoping that Patsy was the same age as her and not five years younger, some child medical protégée.
Patsy laughed. “I have. But what makes you think finding a decent man in the city is any easier? You’re loaded with metrosexuals in suits who spend more time in the bathroom than you do. Or they want a wife to stay at home and look after the kids while they take their mistress out on the town.” She looked at her drink. “If I sound bitter, it’s because I am. I didn’t move here because I’m looking for husband, I moved here needing a change. I was fed up with the anonymity of working at a huge medical practice where patients never saw the same doctor. Sorry to rant.”
“Feel free. But just so you don’t have raised hopes, this isSeverton.”
“With some very attractive men. I mean, I don’t think I’m Scott’s type,” she said, looking a little forlorn.
Narrow escape, Keren thought, but again, refrained from saying it aloud. “Course you are. You’re gorgeous and intelligent. You have a great job. The question should beis Scott your type? Rambling musician and bartender that he is.”
“Bar owner,” Rayah appeared looking as if she had just been on a photoshoot. Keren knew the truth: she’d simply looked in the mirror while applying make-up instead of throwing it on as she’d left the house. And she was wearing clothes as opposed to nightwear. “And he makes more money from this dive than he ever would’ve if he’d stayed in music. He’s not stupid, even if he is my brother. Hi Patsy.” She eyed the margarita jug. “I’ll get another two while I’m up. Sorrell’s on her way with Zack and Alex is bringing that weird girlfriend.”
