Chapter 27 #2
Alyssa glanced over at him from behind the bar, and her face lit up as he claimed the first open stool he came to. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey.” He forced a smile he didn’t feel.
“What can I get you?”
“A beer.”
“Sure. Something to eat too?”
He shook his head.
Her smile faded enough to suggest she'd noticed something was off, but she didn't ask if anything was wrong. Instead, she grabbed a long-neck from the cooler, twisted off the cap, and set it in front of him. “Run you a tab?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
As she moved down the bar, he wrapped his hand around the bottle and took a long pull, letting the chilled liquid slide down his throat. It wasn't enough. He stared through the rows of liquor bottles lining the shelves on the wall across from him without really seeing them.
“You look like a guy who needs something stronger than a beer. Bad day?”
The comment drew his attention to the man next to him.
He looked to be pushing forty, dressed in faded jeans and a well-worn T-shirt.
Expensive name-brand sneakers covered his feet—no ranch hand Seth knew would be caught dead wearing them.
Dark tattoos covered both forearms, with another disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt on the left side of his neck.
Brown hair that needed a trim framed a face that had seen its share of hard living.
A small scar cut across his right cheek, and his nose suggested it had been broken at least once and never quite healed straight.
Brown eyes studied him over the rim of a beer bottle.
There was something vaguely familiar about the man, though Seth couldn't have said why, and it really didn't matter. He had bigger things on his mind. Right now, he wanted to get a buzz on and forget about Shylo and her betrayal.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like that.”
The man took a sip of beer before extending his hand. “Troy.”
He accepted the handshake more out of habit than anything else. “Seth.”
The silence stretched between them for a couple of minutes before Troy nodded toward one of the televisions overhead, where the Royals clung to a one-run lead in the seventh inning. “You think they're gonna hang on?”
Seth shrugged. “Ask me after the ninth.”
Troy chuckled. “Good answer. But I hope they do—I’ve got fifty bucks on the game.”
Silence stretched between them again.
A few minutes later, Marla Oberman and her husband, Al, walked past on their way to the door. She tapped Seth's shoulder. “Hi, Seth. Stop by the store tomorrow. I have some stuff Paige wanted.”
He nodded. “Will do, Marla.”
“See you then. Have a good night.”
He gave the older couple a small smile. “You too.”
After they left, Troy watched them disappear through the front door before taking another drink of his beer. “Everybody seems to know you.”
Seth let out a low chuckle. “That’s life in a small town.”
“True.”
The lull returned, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
Seth welcomed it. He nursed his beer while the game continued overhead, paying just enough attention to notice the scattered cheers and groans from the handful of customers following the Royals.
Usually, he'd have been right there with them, but tonight baseball couldn't compete with the thoughts he couldn't shut off.
Every time he pushed Shylo from his mind, another memory took its place.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked in his bed, sated from mind-blowing sex.
And how she'd climbed into his truck that afternoon, pretending everything was normal.
It had been anything but normal.
He was a fool.
Had any of it been real?
Alyssa eventually worked her way down the bar, checking on customers as she went. Troy slid his bottle toward her, then glanced Seth's way. “You want another?”
He glanced at his own empty bottle before nudging it toward Alyssa. “Yeah.”
If a few more beers took the edge off for a little while, he'd take it.
Going home wasn't an option. Not yet. He wasn't ready to be alone with his thoughts, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to drive back to the ranch where Shylo might still be waiting. He couldn't imagine Shane telling her to take a hike, despite the shock of learning she was his half-sister.
If that was even the truth.
He hadn't stuck around long enough to find out. One thing, however, was certain. She'd lied to him.
While Alyssa exchanged their empties for fresh cold ones, Troy nodded toward a flyer taped to the mirror behind the bar advertising the upcoming Rodeo Bonanza.
“Looks like a pretty big deal around here.”
“It is,” Seth said. “Brings in people from all over the state.”
“You go every year?”
“Every year. Pretty much the whole town gets involved, so it's hard not to.”
Troy nodded. “Bet this place gets packed.”
“It'll be standing room only.”
Seth took a swallow of his beer before curiosity got the better of him. “So what brings you to Hazard Falls?”
“Work.” Troy shrugged. “Short-term construction job over in Wexler. A couple of weeks, then I'm outta here. The motel up the road had the cheapest rates I could find, even if it looks like a throwback to the seventies.”
“Yeah, it hasn't changed much over the years.” Seth took another drink. “The owners keep it clean, though.”
“I got that impression.”
The conversation wandered from one impersonal topic to the next.
None of it mattered. It was a meaningless conversation between two strangers, but maybe that was exactly why Seth didn't mind it.
Troy wasn't asking about the ranch. He wasn't asking why Seth looked like hell.
He wasn't someone who knew Seth well enough to see through the act.
The second beer disappeared faster than the first. The alcohol softened the edges of his anger without dulling the hurt beneath it. But Shylo still slipped back into his thoughts anyway, and each time, he chased her away with another swallow. It wasn't working nearly as well as he'd hoped.
By the time Alyssa wandered back their way, both bottles sat empty.
“You boys need a refill?”
Before he could answer, Troy nodded. “Let's have two more beers.” His gaze drifted to the shelves behind her. “And two shots of whiskey each. My tab.”
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “You celebrating something?”
“Surviving another day, honey.” Troy flashed a lopsided grin. “Hell, join us.”
She laughed. “Not with whiskey. I'm a tequila girl.”
“Then tequila it is.”
She gathered the empty bottles, grabbed two fresh long-necks from the cooler, and set one in front of each of them. Then she lined up five shot glasses on the bar, filled four with whiskey, reached for a tequila bottle, and poured herself a shot.
Seth hid a smirk behind his beer. He knew the “tequila” bottle actually held water—something Lou had come up with years ago when she first started tending the bar when her father had owned the place.
Customers enjoyed buying the bartenders a drink.
By swapping out the liquor for water, the bartender stayed sober enough to work, and everyone left happy.
And of course, the customer paid nothing for the complimentary drink.
Troy picked up one of his shots. “Cheers.”
Alyssa tapped her “tequila” shot glass against each of theirs before tossing it back with the same convincing wince she always put on for customers. Seth and Troy downed their whiskey a second later.
“Need anything else?” she asked, grabbing the empty glasses. “Maybe something from the kitchen?”
Troy looked at Seth. “You hungry?”