33. Remi
“A full moon is nine times brighter than a half-moon.” ~ Tim Rhodes
What am I doing? I asked myself for the tenth time as I walked up to the entrance of The Tipsy Cow. I wanted to turn around, but felt like an outside force was propelling me.
Taylor was clearly here on a date. I should respect her boundaries and leave her alone, just like I had for the past couple of weeks. This was crazy behavior. It was impulsive and borderline stalkerish. I wasn’t impulsive, and I sure as hell was no stalker—all evidence to the contrary.
I stopped in front of the door. My eyes closed as my head fell back, and I exhaled loudly. When I opened my eyes, they were staring at a full moon hanging in the middle of the inky backdrop of a wide-open sky. Maybe that’s why I was acting like this. Misty was into astrology, moon, and sun cycles. She’d told me more than once that studies had shown there was an uptick in erratic behavior under full moons. That must be what had possessed me to get back in my truck and drive here after dropping off my mom’s medication and overnight essentials.
And apparently, it still was, I thought as I watched my hand, almost as if I was having an out-of-body experience, pull open the door and walk inside the bar.
Music was playing through the speakers; people were talking, laughing, and drinking, of course. The place wasn’t standing room only, but it was close to it. I scanned the crowd, and it took me less than five seconds to zero in on my target.
Taylor was tucked in a booth in the corner with her date, Dr. Dreamy. I didn’t know if it was in my head or if there was actually a spotlight on her, but she was glowing. Her expression appeared pleasant as she listened to her date, but not engaged. Even from where I stood, I could see, in her eyes, that her mind was somewhere else. I hoped that somewhere else was with me.
For the first time since I’d seen the two of them walk down her drive, I exhaled a breath of relief. If I’d walked in and she was enthralled in conversation, mesmerized by his witty banter and good looks, it would have been worse than a donkey kick to the balls. But from what I could see, the two had zero chemistry.
I should leave, I told myself. Whatever threat I had perceived was not real. When she looked at me, her eyes came to life, unlike the far-off quality they held looking across the table now. There was no reason for me to torture myself.
On the flip side, one drink couldn’t hurt. A little more recon of the situation might ease my mind so that I might have even a hope of sleeping tonight.
Before I decided whether to stay or go, my decision was made for me. As if she felt my presence like I was Bill Compton and she was Suki from True Blood, her head turned, and her gaze locked with mine.
Despite the dim lighting in the bar, I could clearly see that she was staring straight at me. Her lips parted as her eyes widened slightly. Then, as fast as she’d looked over at me, she turned her attention back to Dr. Dreamy.
I stood there, unsure of what to do next. It’s not like I’d had a game plan going into this. Like most situations with Taylor, I was flying by the seat of my pants. Or, more accurately, the front of my pants. When it came to Taylor, my dick was leading the charge.
One drink, I told myself.
As I weaved my way through the crowd to an empty seat at the bar, my eyes kept drifting in the direction of the corner booth. Every time they landed on Taylor, her attention was still focused on her date. Not once had she glanced back over at me, that I’d seen anyway.
“Hey, Remi. What can I get you?” Kenna asked as I sat down at the bar.
As soon as the question was posed to me, I knew I didn’t feel like drinking. That’s not why I was here. I was here because Taylor Hale owned me, and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do about that.
“Just a coke.” I ordered the same thing I had at the airport bar because I’d wanted to keep my wits about me. Little did I know what a pointless endeavor that would turn out to be.
Kenna’s chin dipped in a nod. “Just a coke it is.”
She filled a silver scooper with ice, then dropped it in a glass before grabbing the soda gun, filling it to the brim, and adding a cherry on top.
I pulled out a five-dollar bill, but she waved it away. “It’s on the house.”
“Thanks.”
Kenna moved on to help other customers, and I posted up on my spot. A few women gave me ‘the eye’ and a few even attempted to strike up a conversation, but I made it clear I wasn’t interested in the kindest way possible.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed—maybe thirty minutes, maybe an hour—before I took the last drink of my soda, which was watered down at that point because of the melted ice.
Before I set the glass back down on the bar top, Kenna appeared. “Can I get you another?”
No, I told myself. I needed to leave. It was creepy that I was still here. The best thing to do would be to go home and debrief The Bachelor with my mom.
That was my plan, but when I opened my mouth, I said, “Sure.”
Kenna’s grin turned lopsided as she made me another drink and replaced my empty glass. I could tell she wanted to say something about the fact that I clearly was not here for social reasons or to get drunk, but before she had the chance, I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I turned and saw Sam Whitlock standing behind me.
“Hey, man. I heard I’m gonna be facing you on the field this year.”
Every Thanksgiving weekend, the fire department and police department held an annual football game. When I’d gone to see Captain Dawson, he’d made it clear that my participation was not optional, even though I wasn’t officially starting at the station until December 1st. I’d played varsity football all four years in high school as a quarterback and made all-state junior and senior years.
I’d had several athletic scholarship offers, but I decided to join the Army instead because I felt it was a safer option. I didn’t have parents to fall back on, and I hadn’t wanted to owe hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loans and tuition if I’d sustained an injury.
“Yep, you are.”
“Can’t wait.” Sam slapped me on the shoulder again as he reached beside me and set a hundred-dollar bill down in front of Kenna, who gave him a look like she wanted to roll it up and stab him in the eye with it. He either didn’t notice that if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under, or he chose to ignore the fiery darts she was shooting him. He just winked and walked away.
Once he left, Kenna slid the hundred-dollar bill off the bartop and crumbled it in her hand. For a second, I thought she was going to throw it in the trash, but instead, she put it in the tip jar.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She pasted a fake smile on her face and spoke through clenched teeth. “Peachy fucking keen.”
She turned and headed down to the end of the bar, and I sat there wondering what the hell actually was the deal with Kenna and Sam. Even after being back in town for a month, I was no closer to solving the mystery. It seemed that in a town where everyone knew everything about everyone, they’d managed to keep whatever their relationship was confidential. No one had access to the top-secret details except them, of course.
My mind was still considering possible explanations for the tension and fireworks the two of them clearly shared when, out of my peripheral vision, I saw Taylor stand up and head to the hallway where the bathrooms were.
I was off that stool faster than a wound-up, spring-loaded Jack-in-the-Box. I barely registered people saying hi to me as I shouldered my way through the crowd. When I reached the hallway, it was empty. I stared at the women’s restroom door and considered entering but decided that would be going too far.
As I paced in front of it, I tried to think of what to say to Taylor. I could tell her I loved her, but I didn’t think this was the time or place. I could ask her what she was doing with Dr. Dreamy, but I was pretty sure I already had the answer to that.
I was still trying to come up with something when the door opened, and she walked out. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me, and she took in a shaky breath.
Without knowing what I was going to say, I just started talking. “I’ve been trying to give you space because I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed, but that seems to have backfired.”
“What are you doing? I can’t…” She shook her head. “I’m on a date.”
“Yeah, I saw. I just want you to know that I’m staying in Wishing Well; I’m not going back to California. And I plan on pursuing you—pursuing this. There is something between us, something you seem to want to deny, but?—”
“Remi, stop. I’m on a date. I can’t do this right now.”
As much as I wanted to argue with her, I could see that she was serious.
“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over. Promise me we’ll talk about this.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled. “There’s nothing to?—”
“Yes, Ana, there is.”
At my use of our code names, her eyes opened, and I saw that they had softened. She’d let me in. Again. “Fine. But not here. Not tonight.”
Taylor brushed past me as she walked back to her date. I started to head back to the bar when I heard a sound behind me. When I looked, I saw Kenna standing at the end of the hallway, looking like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“You called her Ana.”
I was so tired of hiding what had occurred between us. I knew that it wasn’t my place to tell our story, but I wasn’t going to lie. “It’s a nickname.”
She pointed at me as if she’d just deciphered the Davinci Code. “You’re Kyle.”
Right. It made sense that if she knew about ‘Kyle’ she knew about ‘Ana’ too. When I was hiding in the pantry, she’d said that was what she was going to use to weed out the creeps from her Desperately Seeking Kyle ad.
“How is that possible?” she asked. “I mean, did you plan it? Did you know?—”
“No. Our planes both got grounded because of the storm. I had no idea who she was. She didn’t know who I was.”
I wasn’t sure how Taylor would react to Kenna”s in-the-know. Would she be upset? Angry? Relieved? No, she’d be upset.
“Kenna!” Bryson shouted from the bar.
“Coming!” Kenna still looked shell-shocked as she walked past me and went back to work.
When I came out of the hallway, I saw Taylor and the doctor get up and head out. I’d respected her decision not to have this conversation happen here, but it was definitely going to happen tonight.