8. Harrison
Chapter 8
Harrison
S ilas laughs obnoxiously at me. He can’t get enough of the dates I’ve been on, telling me I should make a podcast or a stand-up skit based on these stories.
“I’m telling you, if you put these stories out there, the right girl will fall into your lap.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t think there is a normal girl out there. Let alone the right girl for me. Hunter got lucky; the girls in Cassidy’s group are the only four normal women out there.”
Silas’s eyebrows shoot up and then a wide grin sets across his face.
“Wait until I tell CeCe that, she’ll have you by the balls.” CeCe is Silas’s sister, and I will stand my ground when I say that girl is absolutely not normal. When I first met her, she had an entire roll of bubble gum tape stuck in her hair, so her mom had to cut it all off. She came out in sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt to play football in the park. It took me three games before Silas told me she was his sister and not his brother. Since then, she’s been the only little sister I’ve ever known, and she fits in with the boys just fine.
“You go ahead and tell her; she’ll probably take that as a compliment.”
We swing the door in big sweeping motions a few times before letting the heavy metal go and watch it slam firmly shut. I’m standing outside the back of the bar while he’s on the inside.
“It’s about damn time you put a proper door back here,” I yell.
“What? Can’t hear you!” he yells back dramatically.
Reaching forward, I grab the knob and work to make it turn, except it doesn’t budge. Mother fucker locked me out. He locked me out after I stopped everything I was doing to come over here to help him.
The Draft has been here for a long time; the old metal door had seen better days, and the rusted edges were catching more and more. The rubber runner at the bottom had rotted and chipped away, breaking any kind of waterproof seal, so whenever we’d have heavy rain, it would flood into the back of the bar. Installing this thing was a two-man job. The old door seemed heavy, but this new door was as heavy as one of my girls, and each adjustment caused my arms and back to ache. Once it was installed, we had to make a few adjustments at the bottom to get the seal we needed without it catching so Silas could open it with ease for deliveries.
“Open the damn door!”
I’m met with silence. Letting out a heavy sigh, I make my way around the building to the front. If he locked the front door too, I’ll break a window to get in. My keys and tools are inside. Silas and I both hit thirty, but that doesn’t mean we stopped playing games and having a good time. We’re both responsible adults when we have to be, and when we don’t have to, we don’t make the other person feel guilty about it.
I pass the dumpster and turn the corner onto the sidewalk, causing a woman to startle.
“Holy shit!” she whisper-yells after a loud gasp. Taking a step back, I put my hands up in surrender, not knowing if this lady has pepper spray or something. A man coming out from behind a dumpster is scary for anyone, even in our small town. I blink a few times before taking her in. She’s definitely new around here; I would recognize this girl if I’d seen her before.
She’s almost as tall as me, and that’s saying something since I’m over six feet tall. She has this creamy light skin with a lovely yellow undertone. It reminds me a little of French vanilla ice cream. She looks icy, too. Her skin stands out in stark contrast to her long, black hair that is twisted into some kind of braid I’ve never seen before.
Dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a long, black, cloak-like sweater, she looks like a modern witch. Black eyes are framed by full lashes. As stunning as this girl is, she is the opposite of my type. She’s tall and thin, with a dark and sinister aura.
She shifts her gaze to meet mine and blinks a few times.
“Easy, little witch, I mean no harm.” I joke and shrug playfully.
I watch as her shoulders relax a pinch before she rolls her head to the side as if releasing the tension in her neck.
“I should hex you after a scaring me like that,” she spits out quickly, before turning and walking into the bar.
Damn, she’s hot in that untouchable, domineering kind of way. Her words were so crisp and articulate, I know she can’t be from around here. Maybe she’s from the city, paying a visit. Then I remember that it’s the offseason and a Tuesday. Family in town? This girl is a real-life sorceress, that sinful goth girl fantasy that all men have but pretend they don’t.
She can tie me up and pour a little wax on me, I think for a moment and chuckle.
I take long strides up to the door of the bar and slip inside. Silas is already back at the bar, pouring drinks for some regulars and talking away. The little witch has seated herself at the bar where I usually sit. I’m leaving to head back to the farm to greet my new guest so she can have it. I wonder for a moment if she could be my guest, then think better of it. She has to be staying at the B and B. Farm life isn’t for this girl.
Walking over to the bar, I step around the back.
“Oh great, you work here. Can I have the menu?” Disapproval coats her tone. I could tell her I don’t work here, and that’s not how we talk to people in this town, but don’t. I just scared her a moment ago, and she’s got her hackles up. I walk over to the stack of papers next to the register. They’re plain cardstock with a menu and drink selection. There aren’t a lot of food selections here, just a small seasonal menu. The food is damn good, made by Silas and his sister. Right now, smoked brisket, seasoned stuffing, corn salad, and breakfast pot pie are on the menu.
Her long, delicate fingers take the simple menu from mine. I didn’t realize hands could be so attractive. Just like the rest of her, they’re slim, yet appealing. Her nails are pointed with the tips painted black. Her lashes flit as she blinks and looks up at me.
Can someone look down on you while looking up? She is .
A humming noise leaves her and the hairs on my arm stand at attention.
Did this girl really hex me?
“What do you want?” I ask.
“The customer service here is top-tier,” she quips.
“There’s a diner across the street, witch. Try the service over there.” Sharon is home already, so I know she won’t get the five-star service she’s looking for.
“You’re telling me to leave?” Her voice is husky and even.
“I’m telling you to pick what you want, not comment on the service.”
“The brisket and corn salad.” She lets out a huff and slides the paper back to me.
“To drink?”
“Water.” Her eyes hold me. I can’t move.
“Won’t you melt?” I joke. A smile almost appears, but it’s gone before I can see it.
“I guess you’ll find out,” she breathes as she leans across the bar closer to me. I’m frozen under her gaze. What if she’s Medusa reincarnate, and I’m turning into stone as we speak? My brows furrow, and her eyes form thin slits as a smooth closed smile slides across her face.
“Stop harassing my customers!” Silas pushes me aside and stands in front of her. “Sorry about that darlin’, he puffs up like that from time to time. What can I get for ya? Drink? Food?” Silas is putting on more charm than usual. Taking a moment, I look over the two—they’re fitting. Her goth look to his grunge. I know their attitudes are on par, too.
It doesn’t sit right with me.
“She wants the brisket, corn salad, and some water,” I state, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t harassing her; I was getting her order. You were busy. ”
“I’m not busy,” he says to me without looking. “That’ll be right up.” He pours her water and sets it in front of her on a coaster. “Anything else?”
She shakes her head with a sweet smile. “No thanks.” All purr, no hiss.
Silas walks backward toward the kitchen, giving her an easy smile before turning away.
I grab my tool bag off the floor and sling it over my shoulder. “So, you don’t work here? Just an impostor?” I hear the tapping of her nails over the noise of the bar.
“I help out wherever needed around here.”
“Didn’t seem like much help at all,” she quips.
I don’t want to go at it with this girl any longer, especially when I can tell my buddy already has an interest in her. This means while she’s in town, I might have to see her more than I’d like. I round the corner and start to walk past her, giving her a curt nod.
She brings the water to her lips and takes a long pull, her throat working as she swallows. She holds direct and hard eye contact with me while doing so before pulling the lip of the glass away. I think she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Gooseflesh runs up my arms. She’s not melting, but she’s making me feel like I might.
I grimace, and she gives me a quick, satisfied look. Before she can do anything else, I turn and leave for home.