Page 39
Haha. Very funny.
Killian
But I’m sorry I haven’t texted or called. I’ve just been busy with Scar and the kids.
Fallon
Uh-huh. Anything you want to tell us about how things are going with you and “Scar”?
Fallon
And the kids.
Killian
Nope.
It’s like I’ve stepped into a movie or something. Besides the strong scent of beer, the room is more like a barn than a bar, with dark wooden walls and beams lining the ceiling. There are warm lights dotted across the beams, shining down on the surprisingly busy dance floor. Some kind of country Christmas song I don’t recognize is playing, and people are actually line dancing. Clover Pines knows how to throw a party.
“I didn’t realize Canada could be so …” I gesture at the bar as I look around. “Cowboy.”
Scarlett chuckles at my reaction, leaning back against the polished bar. “Welcome to the boonies.”
“I like it,” I say, but even I can hear how much it sounds more like, “I like you.”
She draws her lip between her teeth, but her eyes are twinkling.
It was easier than I expected to get her to agree to come out tonight. And by that, I mean I asked Piper for suggestions on how to convince her, and Piper sent Scar a text that just said: We’re going dancing at Grizzly’s on Saturday. Wear the jeans with the stars on the pockets. They make your ass look great.
Scarlett did. And they do. I’m trying my best not to look, but shit … I’m looking. The jeans hug her curves perfectly, and she’s wearing a red shirt that seems to be held together at the front only with a flimsy string tied in a bow. The way she’s leaning back exposes a sliver of her midriff, peeking out right above the waistband of her jeans. It’s a big problem for me.
If she notices the way I can’t keep my eyes off her, she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, for a change, Scarlett actually seems relaxed. She was a little antsy when we first dropped the kids off at her parents’ place, but halfway through dinner (“pre-gaming”, Piper called it, despite the fact that Clover Pines’s only sit-down restaurant doesn’t have a liquor license) she loosened up a little.
“Piper, Scar. Your usual?” A tall man with a messy mullet—does everyone here have a mullet?—stops behind the bar.
Scarlett turns around, and I manage not to look at the red star patches on her ass for all of three seconds. Christ.
“Hey, Braedon. Yes, please.” Scarlett peers over her shoulder at me, an eyebrow raised in question.
I join her at the bar. “What’s your us—” Braedon sets a can of Red Bull on the bar. I should have known. “You’re not drinking?”
Scarlett shakes her head, her dark hair reflecting the sparkling lights like a mirror. “But I don’t mind driving, so you can.”
“I’m good.” I order a Coke, and Braedon pops the top off a glass bottle before sliding it to me. “Do you not drink at all?” I haven’t seen her drinking anything but water and energy drinks. She doesn’t even drink coffee.
Scarlett shrugs. “Not often. I don’t really like the taste, and I don’t like to drink around the kids, anyway. You?”
“I’ll usually have a pint if I go out back home, but my days of waking up hungover are behind me.” I shudder, remembering the pounding headaches I used to get in my early twenties.
Piper drains the bottle of beer in her hand and gestures to Braedon for another. “I wrangle twenty-one six-year-olds five days a week. It’s a miracle I only drink at the weekend.” Christ. I don’t know how she manages it. “Cheers,” she says, clinking her beer to Scarlett’s can and then my bottle.
“Cheers,” I echo, my eyes on Scarlett as our drinks meet, and her lips curve into a smile.
“Do you dance, Killian?” Piper asks, and I look out across the dance floor.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not like that.” It’s incredible how they all move in perfect unison.
Piper hums. “Maybe not, but I did see something very interesting when I was googling you.” Oh god. She pulls up a screenshot on her phone and clears her throat. “Killian Michaelson, age eleven, from Riverside Primary School, took home second place in the North Wicklow Junior Championships solo boys division,” she reads out as my cheeks burn progressively warmer. I don’t know if I should be impressed or alarmed by Piper’s stalking skills.
