Preview of When I Should’ve Stayed
1
Clay
Saturday, May 24th
On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it to make yourself a third wheel on a date with strangers?
Generally speaking, I’d rate it at an eleven. It’s tacky and borderline narcissistic—something I’d watch the wealthy pricks from my old life in New York do with sickening confidence and something I’d ride them for every time.
But this isn’t New York, and this date I’m considering cutting in on isn’t just a date.
“Oh, Drew! You’re too much.” Blond curls fly over her shoulder as she turns coy eyes to the schmuck in front of her, and I lean into the bar to watch her in action.
A real-life man-eater, this unbelievably beautiful woman I know through town lore as Josie Ellis, has been inside my bar every Friday night for the last four months, each time with a different man. She teases and taunts and flirts, her siren’s call luring them into the calm waters of overconfidence.
They study her green eyes, tanned skin, and colorfully tattooed arm like there’ll be more to see at the end of the night, and she leans into the attention to hang on their every word. They long to make her theirs, to feel the heat of her around them, and to brag to their friends about the one they managed to bag.
But her eyes dance with secrets and plans of her own—something I recognize from all the times before—and it won’t be long until this guy, just like all the rest, falls flat on his face and trudges out of here with his tail between his legs.
Not once have I seen her leave with her date. Instead, their faces turn ruddy red with anger and embarrassment, arguments breaking out between them as she shakes a finger in dismay, holding her own and grinning in satisfaction.
Besides the various gossip I’ve picked up throughout town, I don’t know much about Josie Ellis, but her constant display in my bar proves she’s a strong, independent woman who does what she wants and makes no apologies for it. Though, it could be said, there’s a whole other layer to her that is soft and warm and loving. She lives with her sweet grandma, Rose Ellis, and attends church with her every Sunday. She works at Harold Metcalf’s diner, and oftentimes, people request to have her as their waitress.
This woman is loved and adored by the entire town. Even Sheriff Pete Peeler talks about her like she’s his own flesh-and-blood.
But tonight’s version of Josie Ellis isn’t ooey gooey. It’s calculated. Strategic.
I watch closely, studying the big man with a beard and muscles who’s easily two times her petite size, and wait for him to break. There’s a frisson of danger in the air, although she doesn’t let on, and I have to wonder if this little game she likes to play is eventually going to catch up with her.
I grab my bucket, rag, and spray bottle of cleaner and head for the table behind theirs to get a closer listen. Sure, it needs to be cleaned, but I’ve also got a bar full of customers waiting on drinks and a twenty-two-year-old named Colby to do my bussing. This isn’t what I should be doing by any stretch of the imagination, but since all of this is going down in my very busy bar, I feel I have a responsibility to finally get to the bottom of it.
“What do you say we get out of here and make this date a little more interesting?” the chump asks just as I arrive within eavesdropping distance. He leans in to get a better view of her plumped-up cleavage, and his big, meaty hand grabs ahold of her tattooed arm.
I spin around the table and clean from the other side as she flutters her eyelashes and fake laughs, expertly extricating her arm out from under his in the motion. I’m impressed but not convinced pulling her arm away from this guy is going to be enough to keep her safe when she flips the switch.
“I don’t know, Drew,” she hums. “I think we can make this date a lot more interesting without leaving here at all.”
“We can?”
“Oh yeah,” she says eagerly, leaning into the table and resting her chin on her fists.
I slow the motion of my wipe with anticipation. Four whole months of watching her show, and I’ve never actually had the pleasure of hearing what she says to them before now. General busyness and false decorum have kept me trapped behind the bar.
Obviously, I’ve let all that go.
Drew’s excitement is undeniable as he suggests, “Should I meet you in the bathroom?”
I have to hold myself back from snorting. Fuck, this guy is going to crash so hard.
She tilts her head to the side, secret mischief narrowing her eyes. “You probably take a lot of women to the bathroom in places like this, huh?”
His eyebrows draw together, and a tingle of concern-induced anticipation shoots all the way to my toes. It’s been a long time since I fought, but I’m pretty sure I still know some of my old moves.
“No way, baby,” he says and reaches out to run one beefy finger down her cheek. “I just really like you.”
Right.
“That’s ni ce ,” Josie comments, ending the final word in a hiss of sarcasm. Her face morphs from smile to serious in a second. “Or, at least, it would be if I didn’t know it was total fucking bullshit. ”
Oh shit. Here we go.
The man’s big head jerks back in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Drew Hadish,” she rattles off his full name and doesn’t stop at that. “Thirty-one years old, married, two kids under three with your high school girlfriend turned wife, Hillary Bosworth. Grew up in Rodesh but moved to Hilsborough last year for a job at the factory with a two percent pay raise and health benefits. That’s you, right?”
“What the fuck is this?” he demands then, standing from his seat and leaning into the table threateningly. She leans back in her chair with a grin, somehow managing not to look scared at all.
“You’re a cheater, Drew,” Josie chastises, and her eyes are so expressive they basically blink out the words fuck you . “You have been for a while, and now, you’re caught. I suggest you grant Hillary the divorce when she asks and you don’t contest the child support.”
“Are you a fucking PI?” Drew slams his ham hock of a fist down onto the table, and I’m shocked when Josie doesn’t even flinch.
Instead, she just shakes her head and offers a nonchalant shrug. “I’m just a girl.”
“You better fucking watch yourself, girl ,” he threatens, jerking forward so hard the table scoots toward her, and unable to stop myself, I jump in.
I drop the bus rag and stand up tall, putting myself in front of him so I’m the only thing he can see. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“Fuck you, dude,” he spits and bumps his chest against mine. “Fuck your bar and fuck this cunt!”
“I said, get the fuck out of here,” I demand, clenching my jaw and pushing a stiff arm into his chest when he tries to posture toward me again. “Now!”
He bends around me to point an angry finger at Josie. “You’re through. I’m gonna tell every fucking dude I know about you and what you’re doing.”
She has the audacity to laugh in his face. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do the same for you.”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Aw, what’s wrong, Drew?” Josie taunts, even blowing him a sarcastic kiss in the air. “I thought you liked me? I mean, just a moment ago, you wanted to take me into the bathroom and fuck me, remember?”
He lunges at her, and I grab him by the throat to stop him, sending him backward with a shove. “Get the hell out of my bar!” I shout before turning back to Josie with a scowl. “Stop.”
She holds up her hands innocently before blowing another kiss at Drew over my shoulder. I roll my eyes and turn around swiftly to stop yet another lunge, carting him all the way out the front door this time before stopping.
His boots scramble on the gravel of the parking lot as I release my hold on him with a shove. “Don’t come back, understand?”
“Don’t fucking worry, bro.” He scoffs. “I won’t set foot in this piece-of-shit town ever again.”
I stand at the door as he climbs into his old black Bronco and revs the engine, flooring it out of the parking lot and spraying gravel everywhere. Tad and Randy Hanson, a couple of brothers who’ve just arrived for a drink, have to jump out of the way, but they laugh and shake my hand as they pass me on their way to the entrance of The Country Club.
“Night’s off to a good start, I see?” Randy taunts with a smile as Tad waggles his eyebrows.
“It seems we missed the show.”
I snort. Yeah. It was some show, all right. Honestly, I can’t decide if Josie Ellis is downright crazy or the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.
Randy and Tad walk inside the bar like they didn’t almost get run over by the angry bastard in the Bronco, and I silently wonder if everyone in Red Bridge is off their rocker.
If I watched someone tear ass out of a place like that, I’d think twice about coming inside. Not here, though. If I’ve learned one thing about Red Bridge, Vermont, since I moved here a few years ago and opened The Country Club, it’s that they live for the drama.
Watch it, be it—they don’t care. As long as it’s interesting.
Trust me, supposed small-town, simple life is far from boring.
They hold the door for me as I follow them inside, and I scan the place for troublemaker Josie Ellis. She’s at the bar now, yakking it up with other waiting patrons, and I don’t think twice before heading straight to her.
I don’t know all the details of her little game with these clueless dicks, but after tonight, it’s clear the woman has created her own real-life version of that show Cheaters in my bar. And for the past several months, I’ve unknowingly sat back and watched it all go down.
But now, after I just had to shove some aggressive asshole out by his damn throat, there’s no way I can let it continue.
I tap Josie on the shoulder until she spins around, her wild blond curls fanning out behind her as she does. She’s an unbelievably pretty woman—there’s absolutely no question in my mind how she lands all these dates—but I’m afraid if she keeps on like this for too long, someone’s going to rearrange her perfectly delicate button nose.
“Cute little stunts you’ve been pulling in here for the last four months, but this was the last one, got me?”
She narrows her eyes. “Fine.”
“I’m serious,” I push, and she purses her lips as a few ladies around her hover close, trying to listen.
“And I said fine ,” she emphasizes, holding eye contact with me in challenge. We stay that way for a long moment, and then she widens her green eyes dramatically. “I won’t bring any more dirtbags in here. Promise.”
Satisfied, I nod and head for the end of the bar to get back behind it and catch up on all the waiting drinks. However, her voice is just loud enough for me to hear it when she tells Sue Nagel, “I’ll take them somewhere else.”
Against my better judgment, I stop in my tracks, turn around, and walk right back over to her. “Did I just hear you say you’ll take them somewhere else?”
“Yeah.” She narrows her eyes again. “And?”
“I don’t know if you noticed, honey, but that shit is dangerous. If I hadn’t been there to step in, you could have gotten seriously hurt. I can appreciate what you’re doing, but it’s not smart.”
She shrugs. “It’s worth the risk.”
“See, that’s where we don’t agree.”
“Good thing we don’t need to, then.” Her laugh is defiant as hell, and I start to think I might be the crazy one when I find myself loving the way her green eyes shine and her full lips part with each chuckle. “You’re not involved,” she adds with a cheeky smile.
“I don’t know, I look pretty fucking involved, if you ask me.” I hold out two knowing hands, palms up. “I just threw a guy out of my bar over it.”
Her pretty green eyes roll heavenward. “I told you, I’ll go somewhere else.”
I sigh, gesturing toward a stool at the end of the bar. “Sit down. Please. Let me catch up on all these drinks, and then we’ll talk.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“’Cause I’ve been watching you for a while now. And I kind of like your smile the way it is.” And because you’ve become a mystery I’d really love to solve.
Her lips part in surprise, and Sue elbows her in the side before turning around and pulling out a stool.
I hope and pray and hold my breath. And smile so big my chest hurts when Josie finally sits down.
I’m almost sure it makes me a fool, but I think this girl might just be something special.
…