6. Walker
Chapter 6
Walker
Lies Lies Lies
I ’m supposed to be focused on inventory. The bar isn’t open yet, which makes it the perfect time to catch up on paperwork, crank up my play list, and get things done. But instead of counting bottles of tequila, I recount the memory of her fire-red hair against the pillow, the way she laughed, and the way her lips felt on mine. When I close my eyes, I can still taste her.
I bury myself in work, or at least I’ve tried to. I’m desperate to keep my mind off her. It doesn’t work, not even close.
Red lingers in my mind like a song, and I can’t stop hearing it play over and over in my heart.
And then she pulls up in my parking lot.
My pen falls to the counter with a soft clatter.
She doesn’t see me since the bar windows are tinted. But I watch her and suddenly feel nervous and excited.
“What is she doing here?” I mutter even though there is no one to hear.
My heart races. I should go back to my paperwork and pretend I don’t care. It was one night. I shouldn’t care this much. But her showing up here messes with my already tangled thoughts.
She looks different in the daytime. When the door shuts to the bar, sunlight pouring in around her, it almost looks like her hair is ablaze. Even her silhouette hints at the dips and curves of her body. Dips and curves I know intimately. I stand here like some lovesick idiot, watching as she makes her way toward the bar.
She’s here. And I’m about to find out why.
She looks over at me through the hazy bar that is still dark because we’re not open yet.
“Hi,” she calls flatly. But her tone has changed. It’s not playful like it was, it’s serious.
“Hi,” I clip a little too gruffly, nervous at her change in demeanor as I run my hand over my beard.
I hope she’s not mad Cash dropped her car off on his way to the bank. I just wanted to make sure that she had it and wasn’t stranded.
She stops in front of me. Then I realize she looks pissed. Really pissed.
“You, okay?” I ask hesitantly.
“No. I’m not,” she hisses.
“Okay,” I reply, running through reasons in my mind why she could be so mad. The only thing I can come up with is leaving without saying goodbye. Her eyes continue to flare with anger, and she looks like she wants to murder me.
“Did you forget to tell me that you’re married and have a freaking baby before I had the best night of my life? What do I look like to you? Some girl you can take home from the bar and cheat on your wife with? I don’t sleep with married men. I didn’t think to ask if you were married before you fucked me, but apparently, I should have,” she seethes.
What the hell? I look around like I’m being punked right now. I'm waiting for Cash to come out and tell me this is a joke that these two concocted somehow.
She glares even harder at me, which I didn’t think could be possible because she’s pissed right now.
“Are you being serious right now?” I cross my arms and lean back against the bar.
“Dead serious. You can’t just use people. You can’t just screw everyone over,” she says as her nostrils flare. She points a finger at me and yells, “You are not a good guy.”
Okay, I would laugh at this misunderstanding, but she looks like she might cry. And I can’t take the disappointing look she’s giving me right now.
I tilt my head and say, “You came here to tell me that I’m not a good guy?”
“Yes. You suck. I thought you were good. Somehow, I felt something between us. I thought you were different. You just proved to me that you’re just like the rest.”
I know in my heart this isn’t true, but that part hits me in the gut. What has happened to her? Who the hell is the “rest of them” and what the hell did they do to her? I want to hunt them all down one by one for putting this hurt in her.
“Who told you I was married?” I ask, calmly waiting for her answer.
“Maggie Pines,” she scoffs, her eyes narrowing, hands on her hips. Hips that I remember gripping last night, and I have to shake off the memory and focus on whatever this is right now.
Running out of patience, I counter dryly, “Well, I know that’s a lie.”
Her eyes widen, and she utters fiercely, “Are you calling Maggie a liar? I’ll call her up right now.”
I carefully watch her and decide to call her bluff. “Do it.”
“Okay,” she retorts with a huff and then reaches into her purse for her phone. She scrambles to find it.
“Allow me,” I grumble.
I pull my phone out, pull up Maggie’s contact and call her. I put it on speaker and set it on the bar between us and wait as it rings. Her eyes stay on me, still glaring.
“Hello, Walker,” Maggie says in a teasing tone. “To what do I owe this displeasure?”
“Not now, Maggie. Did you tell Red that I’m married?” I cut to the chase. We can resume our usual jabs later.
She’s quiet for a moment. Too long of a moment. Shit. What the hell has she done? I maintain my poker face for Red even though I still have no idea what’s happening.
“I’m assuming you’re talking about my niece, Violet. And yes, I told her that the bartender at the Black Dog was married and has a baby on the way,” she finally says, a hint of amusement in her voice.
And there it is. And wait, what? This is her niece? I keep my poker face in place and focus on Red. She’s still really angry.
That’s all I needed to know to clear up this misunderstanding.
“Nursing home, Maggie,” I quip.
She chuckles, “How was I to know?”
“I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone and slide it back in my pocket.
I know Maggie and I will have a lot to talk about later. Namely how she forgot to tell me that her niece Violet was in town. Red coming here and accusing me of being married has just now outed me and Red to Maggie. Wonderful. So much for keeping my business private in a small town. Pointless.
Her eyes are on me, and they’re still angry, and she’s not backing down. And it’s sexy as hell.
“Do you know my name?” I ask her, now suddenly wondering who the hell she is. Maggie has a big family all over the country and several nieces. But I can’t recall all their names. I’m questioning why none of this adds up. I bet I have more questions than she has right now. But we’ll get to those.
“The adulterer?” she snaps.
I growl with frustration, “Red, I own this bar. I’m not the bartender. Cash is my bartender. The guy who was working last night?” I look at her and wait for it to click. Relief fills me that this is not what she thought it was.
Her eyes close, and she looks down in mortification and murmurs, “Shit. I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks blush a furious shade of pink to rival her bright red hair, a look of pure contrition on her face.
“I hope that clears up some things for you. Anything else you need to know, Red?” I lean back and wait, amused by this whole conversation now that I know it’s bullshit.
“Nope, I’m going to crawl into a hole and die now,” she admits with an embarrassed laugh.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the front seat of her car and glance back at her. “Now it’s my turn. I have a few questions for you.”
She looks at me apologetically. “Sure,” she admits with defeat.
And fuck me if her face isn’t cute as hell right now, all pink and flustered with embarrassment. There’s no way this woman is a crazed fan or here for trouble. She’s too hell-bent on not being a home wrecker, which I appreciate. Cash is a stand-up guy and would never do that, anyway. And I sure as hell would never be that guy, either.
“Why do you have my dog?” I nod to where my dog’s head hangs out the window that’s half rolled down, watching the door, probably wondering why she didn’t get to come in, too.
Her mouth drops in surprise. “Pickles is yours?”
I cross my arms, waiting for an explanation. She looks even more beautiful when she’s mad. I'm not even sure how that’s even possible, but she’s even sexier than she was last night.
“Maggie asked me to watch her,” she stammers, looking confused.
I’ll bet she did. She’s supposed to be watching Pickles while Mack is out of town so she isn’t at the house alone.
“She’s supposed to watch her when I’m working. As a bar owner ,” I add with a smirk. “Not a bartender.”
“Stop,” she groans. “I’m so embarrassed. And technically, you were pouring drinks last night, were you not?”
I laugh and admit, “I was.”
Relief fills me that she doesn’t seem to recognize me. And I know Maggie would never tell her anything personal about me. She’s the one person in this world that I know one hundred percent for sure that I can count on. I don’t have many people like that, but I have no doubts about Maggie. That’s why I knew we could call her earlier when I called Red’s bluff.
“I’ll go get her for you,” she mumbles and heads to her car. My dog wiggles her whole body when she sees Red coming towards her. I sigh. I have the same reaction too, Pickles.
She returns a few minutes later with Pickles trotting to me, her tail feverishly wagging as her whole body wiggles when she sees me.
I bend down and pick her up, holding her to my chest.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks hesitantly.
“Red, I think we’re past formalities. Just ask,” I say dryly.
“Why do you call this the Black Dog? Is it a song reference?” she wonders aloud as she glances around as if looking for clues.
I snort. “My bar has been here for over ten years now.” I nod to my dog. “Hence the black dog. Before her it was Gus. My other black dog.”
“Alright.” Her mouth quirks. “Why the name Pickles? ”
I want to tell her my daughter named her and that I get every pop culture reference she’s throwing my way, but I’m still on the fence with her. I don’t tell anyone about my personal life and not about my daughter. Something about Red feels different but still not going there. I can’t. There are too many things I can’t risk.
Instead, I shrug. “Just a name.”
She stares at me for a beat. “Alright, Cowboy. Sorry I kidnapped your puppy, and I’m sorry I accused you of being an adulterer.” She turns and leaves, and her eyes stop at the corkboard in the entryway of the bar, she looks at the bartender help wanted sign and back at me. She frowns, looks down, and heads out.
This is a plot twist I didn’t see coming.
“I see you met, my niece,” Maggie remarks wryly as she walks in my front door the next day, carrying grocery bags she sets on the counter. Maggie drops off groceries from time to time, and I cook for her as often as she lets me. When Mack is home, she loves cooking with me, too. One good thing about living in the middle of nowhere is that we cook most of our own meals. So, we’ve learned to make all our favorites. Maggie usually spends a lot of her time here, and now that she’s had her niece visiting, I can see why she’s not been around as much. But to be fair, we’ve both been busy. Me with the bar, Mack’s school stuff, and her with her niece and the Dogwood.
“I did,” I counter dryly as I unload the bags and set the items on the counter. “Care to explain?”
She laughs her deep throaty laugh. “She asked about the hot bartender at the Black Dog. I don’t consider you the bartender, and I don’t refer to you as hot, so I assumed she meant Cash. And then Cash returned her car to the motel and dropped off the keys.”
Shit, I hadn’t thought about that. Although I secretly wanted her to see her again, and even though she gave me hell, I enjoyed seeing her when she confronted me. Somehow, she’s even more beautiful when she’s mad.
"I'll be sure to let Cash know that you think of him as hot," I tease.
“You got a thing for her?” Maggie returns with a smirk, ignoring my jab.
“I don’t have a thing for anyone,” I scoff as I fold and lay the empty bags flat on the counter.
She studies me for a moment. “That’s too bad. Violet’s a good girl, and she’ll be sticking around.”
Violet. The name suits her. But she’s still going to be Red to me. And the things we did…I loved every minute that I spent with her.
But then I think about what Maggie said about her sticking around. Interesting. Also, a complication that I don’t need right now. Or maybe I do. Maybe someone like Red is what I’ve been missing in my life if I were to let myself have that.
I shrug, pretending not to care. “I'm glad you'll have her around to help you."
“She’s been helping me at the Dogwood and could use some friends. I was happy to hear she finally had a fun night out. She had a rough time before she came here.”
Still not trusting Maggie’s intentions. She’s been known to be a matchmaker. And her last attempts were terrible. She is never allowed to try to fix me up ever again. And not with her niece. And I’m also curious about what happened before she came here. I wonder what her story is.
“Good, it’s about time you found some help. You’re too old to be doing everything yourself down there,” I say, and she glares at me at the old comment.
“I’m not doing everything myself. I have Red now to help me,” she teases, using the nickname I gave her niece.
“That nickname suits her,” she adds with a grin.
“So, you’ll take her help but not help from Mack and me?” I tease.
“Speaking of Mack, did you talk to her today?” she asks as she changes the subject. She opens a package of cookies and takes one out to eat. She watches me, sliding them over as I take one, too.
“She’s doing good. She mentioned she called you. She was a little sad you won’t make it to her competition, but I’ll take plenty of pictures and videos for you,” I say, taking a bite of the cookie.
Her competition is almost five hours away, and that’s far for Maggie to be gone. I have Cash to help out, but she doesn’t have help like I do. Mack and I are her backup when she needs it. Which she usually won’t take us up on which makes me curious why she let her niece come help her.
We eat silently for a while, and she finally says, “You know it’s okay to be happy, Walker?”
I close my eyes and think about that for a fleeting moment, then reassure her dryly, “I am happy, Maggie.”
“Sure,” she says as she chews and watches me, obviously unconvinced. “The two of you might have more in common than you realize.”
“What all did you tell her?” I turn to her as I snag another cookie.
“Nothing other than you were married and had a kid, apparently.” She chuckles then grows more serious. “You know I don’t talk about you to anyone. No one does.”
I nod, grateful. “I know. Thanks, Maggs. ”
“I’m headed back to town. Just wanted to drop off some groceries so you don’t starve without your child around to remind you to eat,” she counters.
“I eat,” I grumble as I follow her to the door, Pickles trailing behind us, wagging her tail. “And thanks for everything. And pawning Pickles off on Red. I saw what you did there.”
She grins at me, knowing I caught her red-handed.
“Whatever you say. Love you, honey,” she says as she lays a hand on my cheek then turns to leave.
“Love you,” I wave and close the door.
I can’t help but wonder what she means when she says that Red and I have more in common than I think. Maybe because of the guitar. Or the fact that she showed up just like Mack and I did all those years ago.
Mack and I moved to Bridger Falls when she was a newborn to start a new life here, where nobody knew us. We stayed at the Dogwood for the first three months until I found a place for us. Maggie and I became close; she’s like the mother I’ve never had. She helped me through a rough time of transition in my life.
I wouldn’t be where I am now without Maggie and her encouragement and support. I’m glad Red has that if she needs it.
But then I can’t help but wonder what’s she really doing here?
I shouldn’t wonder, but I do.