I don't know why Penny is back in town, but I am more determined than ever to stay away from her.
CHAPTER 2
PENNY
THE NEXT NIGHT I'm in Crawford's bar practically stalking Colton. Okay. Maybe notpractically.
It's only been twenty-four hours since my world, as I had come to know it, turned on its axis. Colton James is different and definitely not the same person I remember him being, but that doesn't change the fact that I love him. I love him more than anything. Time did nothing to change that fact.
I'm still trying to grasp the fact that to Colton I am a stranger, someone who came into town and into his life just a day ago. He doesn't know me, and he has no idea I'm still in love with him. I can't help but be depressed by all of this. But I refuse to give up. I never was a quitter, and I won't start now. If there's anything left to salvage between the two of us, I'm going to find it and hold onto it for dear life. I want Colt back. More than anything.
Colton noticed me when I came into the bar, but he's been keeping his distance, allowing Buddy to fill all of my drink orders. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Colton surreptitiously from a stool at the end of the bar as he takes orders, pours drinks and handles money. He's wearing a pair of light blue deconstructed jeans and a fitted black shirt that saysCrawford's Baracross the chest. His dark hair falls into his eyes once in a while, and I sigh every time he shakes his head. It's short on the sides and longer on top, a style that he never wore when I knew him way back when, but he wears it well now.So well.
I watch the fabric of his t-shirt strain against his biceps, and my mouth suddenly goes dry. I take a long swig of my rum and coke, almost draining the glass; but it does nothing to help with my thirst.
I remember Colton being handsome, but now he's just incredibly hot. He has the perfect amount of dark stubble on his strong jaw, and it's taking everything in me not to stare at him for more than a few seconds at a time. I don't want him thinking I'm crazy…even though I'm starting to doubt my sanity at this point.
Forcing myself to look away from Colt for the millionth time tonight, I finish my mixed drink while glancing around the room. The bar isn't crowded, once again, and I decide to ask Buddy about it when he approaches me for a refill of my rum and coke.
"It's Saturday night. What gives?" I ask, looking around the mostly empty room.
Buddy shrugs. "Ain't been the same since Colt's dad died. William always knew how to draw a crowd in. And then once our cook quit after Colt and I took over runnin' the place, things really started slowin' down."
"You and Colt own the bar now?" I ask, surprised.
Buddy nods. "Yep. Partners," he remarks. He finishes making my drink and sets it down in front of me. I give him money, and he turns away to put it in the cash register. Then he returns a few seconds later with my change.
"Keep it," I tell him.
"Thanks, Penny," he says before plopping the dollars into the tip jar.
"Where's Shirley at?" I ask out of curiosity. Shirley was the bartender here for years. She was old, but the best waitress and bartender I've ever seen.
"She moved to Tennessee to be closer to her grandkids. We haven't been able to find anyone to take her place since she left a few months ago." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's been rough keepin' this place above water, but we're managin'. For now," he mutters.
Then he turns to wait on another person, and I sit and let his words sink in. If the bar goes under, I wonder what Colton would do. He would probably lose everything he inherited. I can't let that happen. Iwon'tlet that happen.
With a smile on my face and a newfound purpose on my mind, I sip my drink and think about how I can help keep the bar afloat all while bringing Colton and me closer together.
* * * * *
"SO, PENNY, HOW was your internship with the State Assembly?" Dad asks during Sunday supper.
I cough, choking on the piece of broccoli sliding down my throat. I hurry up and gulp down my glass of water to swallow it down. Wincing, I clear my throat before answering him. "Um, it…went well," I lie.
Mama eyes me over the centerpiece from across the table. "Oh, really? Because your father called Larry the other day about any positions opening up. So, would it surprise you to learn that Larry informed us you never completed your internship? That you dropped out after only a few months and told them that you were going to enroll in culinary arts school?"
I can hear the disappointment laced in her voice, and I hang my head. "I…I did go to culinary arts school, and I got a certification in baking and pastry arts."
"Baking and pastry arts?" my mother asks in disgust. She takes a sip of her wine and shakes her head. "Since when do you like to bake?"
"I've always loved cooking and baking. Colton's mom loved showing me how to ---."
She doesn't let me finish. Bringing up Colton's mother always was a sore subject between my mama and me. "Penelope, Political Science was your major incollege," she says, emphasizing the word college as if culinary arts school isn't good enough. I know it isn't good enough for her, but it was my dream. My mother sets down her wine glass. "What about your future plans? The internship was going to solidify your spot to work for almost any senator or representative and eventually congress. You threw everything down the drain so you could learn how tobake?"
My mother has always been overbearing, telling me what I should and what I will do with my life. She is also the main reason why it was so hard for Colton and I to be together. She was always fighting tooth and nail to keep us apart. Mama always looked at Colton like he came from the wrong side of the tracks even though his family practically lived next door. Granted, there is a lake and a few acres that separate us, but still…Colton and I were meant to be, but she could never see that. She never wanted that kind of small town life for me. She wanted me to accomplish everything that she never did and never could. And instead of living my own dream, I've been living hers.
"I wanted to try something different," I say in a small voice. I cringe at how weak I sound. "I wanted to be sure I wasn't making a mistake."
