“It’s more than that,” I mutter, half to myself.
Riley raises an eyebrow. “Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Red gives me a sideways glance, not missing a beat. “You’re a hard man to read tonight. Must be the heat gettin’ to you. Let’s just have a drink, huh?”
Before I can respond, I hear a familiar voice behind me. Jesse Murphy, with his easy smile and casual demeanor.
He slides into the booth across from us, his eyes already scanning the room, trying to keep up with the flow of town gossip.
“Clint,” he says, grinning, “What’s got you in a twist?”
I shrug, not sure how to explain the feeling gnawing at me. “Just keepin’ an eye on things.”
Jesse tilts his head, picking up on my tone. “Ooh, dear, you really are in a bad place.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine. Just drinking.”
Jesse leans back in the booth, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure you are. I’ve known you long enough to see when something’s eating at you. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we can drink.”
Before I can answer, Carrie Jo Porter walks through the door with a laugh, shaking her head at something her boss at the Buckhorn Diner, Betty Lou Winslow, says.
I offer them a half-wave, but as Carl Benson joins our table, I’m soon drawn back into the conversation.
“Well, that was something else, wasn’t it?” he declares. “What a celebration. But did you see the argument between Sammy Brooks and his wife?”
Ireallydon’t have time for gossip, but I guess that’s what I’ve gotten myself into. Just walking into this bar, I should have known it’d go this way.
I give Carl a half-hearted nod, trying to keep my attention focused on my beer, but it’s hard to ignore the crowd that’s gathered around the table.
Red’s grinning, ready to dive into the drama, and Jesse is genuinely enjoying the distraction, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the table.
“Yeah, Sammy and Meg are always on edge,” I mutter, trying to sound casual. “I swear, every time they get into it, it’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”
Carl laughs, clearly enjoying the gossip. “You’re right. But you know, I can’t help but wonder what’ll happen when they finally pull the plug on that marriage. The whole town’s gonna be in on it.”
I take another pull from my bottle, trying to tune out the noise. I don’t care about Sammy and Meg, not tonight. Not when my mind’s still tangled up in the mess at High Ridge.
But the conversation around me doesn’t stop. Carrie Jo sits down next to Red, and Betty Lou walks over to greet the group.
“Well, well, well,” she says, planting herself at the end of the table with a mischievous grin. “If it isn’t the usual suspects. How was the parade? Did Sammy and Meg provide their usual entertainment, or did someone else steal the spotlight?”
“Always Sammy and Meg,” Carl replies with a chuckle, but he’s glancing at me every now and then, sensing that I’m not quite as invested in the gossip as the others. “But I did hear that you might have some gossip, Carrie Jo. Something about an online romance?”
She blushes so brightly she might as well turn the whole tavern red. “I just wanted to meet someone that I haven’t gone to high school with.”
The conversation around me fades a little as I glance toward the door, half listening, half trying to ignore the constant buzz of the tavern. But then the door swings open and more people walk in.
Violet.
And Dakota.
My breath catches in my chest. Everything slows.
Her auburn hair catches the low light as she moves through the door, her silhouette framed by the dusty glow of the streetlight outside. She’s wearing a loose shirt and a pair of jeans that hug her just right.
She walks with that grace of hers. She knows she’s not just another face in a crowd, but someone who’s worth noticing.
It’s hard to look at her because she’s so beautiful.
