Chapter 2
TWO
LANCE
It’s hard growing out of the mold your small town puts you in.
Lance the player. Lance the playboy. Lance the jock turned drunk. Lance the arrogant.
Lance. Lance. Lance.
I got so tired of the small town gossip that I decided to just fucking own the titles. Who cares, right? Might as well just let them see who they made me.
I’m not a drunk, though, never was. That is one title I won’t let them make of me. Having a father as a drunk was something I had no choice in. But, alas, he’s six feet under and it’s better that way. I’m better that way.
But since there’s a damn assumption about me drinking too much, I just tend to hangout at the bar on the outskirts of town so I don’t have to bump into anyone I know. There are some older locals, but it’s usually some folks from Mason Pointe who are trying to hide from their town, too.
Like a small town bar full of misfits and unwanted folks, we don’t judge here and we certainly don’t pry into each other’s lives. We just order our drinks and go about our night.
It’s the perfect hideaway and I guess it fits with the name of the dive bar:
The Lost Cowboy
We’re all just lost men trying to find a place in this world, succumbing to the vice of cheap beer and darts.
“Another, Lance?” the bartender asks, reaching for my glass. I nod and hand it to her as I adjust the ball cap on my head.
Lainey Tills is a sweet girl, but she’s got to get out of this town. She’s got big dreams to be a country star in Nashville and is working this job to save enough for a place there. I make sure to tip her extra whenever she serves me.
There are weekend nights where we have some singers go up on stage for an hour or two and Lainey has done it a couple of times. That’s how I know she’s fucking good at what she does. She sings from the soul and her original songs are better than the covers she occasionally belts.
She hands me a full glass before getting another patron. I immediately start drinking the ice cold beer before heading back to the darts area where I met a few guys earlier. They’re tossing darts and laughing as I walk up.
They’re deep in conversation about their weekend plans of getting last minute Christmas gifts and going to the square to get Christmas trees. It’s Friday night and Christmas is next weekend, so everyone is hustling to get things done in time.
“What about you, Lance?” one of the guys, Tanner, asks. I give them a look before laughing and Tanner’s brows pinch in confusion.
“I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”
“Really?” another, I think his name is Derrick, asks. The third drinks his beer. I’m gonna be honest, I have no fucking idea what his name is. He’s wearing a Carhartt jacket, so I’ve just called him that in my head.
I shrug. “I go to my mom’s for dinner, if that counts. But I don’t decorate my place or go out of my way to go to events.”
“Kinda like Scrooge.”
The comment stings like an insult and I feel like I need to get out of there. We’ve been playing darts for an hour already and this is my third beer from Lainey. I could do an Irish exit, but that’s not my forte, despite my reputation of being a dick around this town. Plus, I got a tab to close out.
“I’ll own it,” I joke. The guys all look at me, and Carhartt is still drinking his beer.
I hold back from rolling my eyes. They’re probably from Mason Pointe. Some are cool, but the majority that I meet from that town are pricks. Worse than the titles I’ve been given around here. They’re living proof of them.
“One more round?” Tanner cuts in, pointing to the darts board with his beer cup. The other guys nod and grunt in agreement before they start a new game. It’s like they’re in their own world again without me. I don’t bother telling them that I want in. Because I don’t.
I chug the remaining beer and book it to the bar to pay my tab. Lainey sees the look on my face and doesn’t bother asking, and before I know it, my card and receipt are on the counter.
“Thanks, Lain,” I say while signing and giving her a hefty tip.
She puckers her lips. “Not staying late tonight?”
I shake my head. “Gotta get to bed, you know grandpas and their bedtimes.”
She laughs, her blue eyes brightening under the neon signs above. “Sure. You’re so old, Lance. Just get home safely, please.”
“Always do,” I tell her confidently. I hear some whoops and hollers near the front door, and Lainey laughs.
“It’s working!”
I almost ask her what she’s talking about, but she’s already moving to get someone’s drink order.
I head to the entrance where a group of six is coming in. There’s a couple kissing and I roll my eyes and huff out a breath. They get out of my way just in time when I’m nearing the doorframe. The draft from outside is cold and I silently curse myself for not bringing a jacket. December in Tennessee isn’t that cold, so I wore a long sleeve. We’re not expecting snow until January.
Before I can make it out of the bar, I bump into someone and she makes a yelping sound. The flash of red instantly blinds me and I grab her shoulders to steady her.
“Sorry, Darlin’,” I say almost immediately. She lifts her head and there’s whooping and hollering behind us.
What the hell is going on at this hour? Are people going insane tonight?
“Fuck, sorry, wasn’t watching where I was going—” When she finally looks up, her green eyes catch mine and it’s like the world stops.
Katherine Pearson.
This is the last place I’d expect Miss Pearson to end up. Is this a dream? Am I truly so drunk that I’m imagining all of this?
“Lance?” she asks loudly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I drop my hands from her shoulders.
“Kiss already!” Someone yells behind us. I pinch my brows, wondering what the hell they’re saying that for.
“Fuck, she didn’t.” Katherine sighs. She’s looking up and I follow her gaze.
A damn mistletoe is hanging above the bar door. I hear a laugh and it’s?—
“Lainey,” Katherine and I both say at the same time.