Chapter One
*Jack*
When I stepped into Magnolia Bar, a modern space with sophisticated décor, smooth jazz playing overhead, and low mood lighting, I did not expect to see over a dozen people crowded around the end of the bar yelling “Chug! Chug! Chug!” while a petite blond woman tipped her head back and polished off what looked like a pint of that new IPA from Trailview Brewing.
Sasha, the no-nonsense twenty-eight-year-old bartender I’d hired right out of grad school, met my eyes and slowly lowered her pumping fist to her side. She ceased chanting and did her best to nudge Sorority Wanna-Be Barbie off the bar top.
My other female bartender, Kayla, caught a panicked elbow from Sasha and turned in time to see me making my way across the bar in quick determined strides.
With wide eyes and a quick word from Kayla, Luca—the kitchen manager—rushed around the wide oak bar and helped the woman back onto a high-backed leather bar stool as the crowd voiced their displeasure at the end of their fun.
Then someone passed Barbie another beer and cheers resumed as she brought it to her lips.
I placed my plastic bag of to-go containers on the end of the bar and walked through the swinging half-door to confront my staff.
Luca wisely scurried back to his kitchen domain while Sasha and Kayla attempted to look busy with customers on the other end of the bar. I turned to the small crowd gathered behind the little blond chuggernaut and gave them my best I’m-in-charge-here-and-you-should-fuck-right-off glare.
They got the message real quick. The group—mostly men, I noticed belatedly—dispersed, but the woman kept drinking, downing her second beer since I’d walked in less than three minutes ago like a frat party champion.
But she wasn’t a college kid. As I looked closer, I realized she looked familiar. And she was closer to my age—thirty-three—than any undergrad. Her short blond hair was styled in loose waves that reached no farther than her chin. She wore a dress that was fitted down to her waist. The spaghetti straps fell across pale shoulders and delicate collarbones. But I could see a red cardigan draped along the back of her stool to ward off the autumn chill.
Oblivious to my inspection, the woman finished the beer and thunked the glass onto the surface of the polished bar before saying “Whoopsie,” and then moving the glass onto a coaster.
My brows rose involuntarily and I finally turned away to corner Kayla who was pulling a red ale from the tap below the bar.
“What the hell is going on?”
Kayla winced. “Um, well. The thing is . . .” She trailed off as she leveled out the glass, focusing on not overfilling it.
If customers wanted to sit on bar tops and chug Pbr like a frat boy, they could damn well walk four blocks east over to Mattie B’s. That was the townie bar where people shot pool and sang karaoke. The floors were sticky and the jukebox was too loud, and the owner had a baseball bat under the counter. And that was all well and good. If I was going to catch a basketball game, hell, that was where I went.
But those were not the vibes of Magnolia. We served a different clientele. We held ourselves to different standards. Sasha or Kayla should have broken up whatever the hell had been going on out here before it ever got far enough to organize and start a chant. Instead they’d joined in, and I wanted to know why.
I took the red ale from her hand and passed it to Sasha who was attempting to slink by to get to the register. “Deliver that,” I said tersely.
Then I pinned Kayla with a don’t-even-try-to-fuck-with-me glare, and ordered, “Talk.”
Kayla glanced over my shoulder quickly before taking a step toward me and lowering her voice. “She came in on a mission, okay? Her divorce is final and we felt sorry for her.”
I released a breath, something suspiciously pity-shaped lodged itself in my throat. But I ignored it. “You overserved her.”
“Jack, I’ve known Bonnie all my life. She is literally the best person. She came and got me and Larry sophomore year when our ride ditched us at a concert down in Greenville. She filled my freezer with casseroles for three months when my mom died. Bonnie takes care of everyone. She deserves to blow off some steam. She is allowed to celebrate her freedom from that asshole she married.”
I swallowed.
That was why she’d looked familiar. She was Bonnie Clark—or Bonnie whatever-her-married-name-was. The Clarks were leaders in this town. They owned one of the biggest farms and agritourism stops in Western North Carolina. I played rec league softball with Bonnie’s cousin, Will.
Shit.
This was messy. And the perfect example of why locals should stick to drinking at Mattie B’s. It kept the drama contained. I didn’t need this in my life. I wasn’t even on the damn schedule tonight.
I sighed long and loud.
Kayla grinned. “Bet you wish you’d kept on going to your apartment instead of checking up on us. Too bad you’re paranoid and anal retentive.”
She totally ignored my glare and patted me on the chest before returning to where thirsty customers waited.
“Sorry, boss,” Sasha muttered when she breezed by. “And sorry about your dinner.”
“My what?” I spun around to where I’d left my saag paneer and felt my mouth drop open.
Drunken Barbie Bonnie was going to town on a samosa from my takeout container. Flakes of fried dough littered the shiny bar top as she closed her eyes and moaned around a mouthful, “Ermahgerd, I loooove these.”
I shook my head in disbelief.
Kayla was right. This was what I got for being a control freak. Work/life balance, my ass.
I approached the little dinner thief and plucked the appetizer out of her hand. “These are mine.”
She squawked, a wrinkle forming between her brows. “I already bit off it. Can’t I finish it?”
“No, you may not.” I popped the lid back on the Styrofoam box. “When the cops catch someone in the middle of robbing a bank, Clyde, they don’t just let them finish the job because they already started.”
“It’s Bonnie,” she corrected. “The other half of the duo.”
I shook my head. “No, Clyde fits you better. You’re trouble.”
Bonnie eyed me suspiciously, or maybe she was seeing double and was trying to figure out which one of me to focus on. “You’re not how I thought you’d be.”
I tucked away the rest of my food— Jesus, did she already eat all my pakora? —then tied the bag closed.
Leaning forward, I placed my elbows on the bar and met her gaze. It was slightly more focused. “Oh, yeah? And how did you think I’d be?”
Her eyes were interesting—honey brown almost with a dark ring around the outside. Not something you saw every day. The frown she was trying her best to commit to looked strange on her face, like her muscles weren’t used to the shape and flitted inadvertently toward a smile when she wasn’t paying attention. Whatever lipstick she’d had on at the beginning of the night was long-gone and now her lips just looked soft and full and pink. She had a slight gap in her front teeth that was oddly endearing.
Then I remembered she’d swiped the dinner I’d been looking forward to and resumed scowling.
“I thought,” she mused drunkenly, “you’d be less concerned with legalities.”
I felt my brows climb high on my forehead, an uncomfortable weight settling in my stomach. At one time, I wouldn’t have been concerned with something as minor as theft or even grand larceny or breaking and entering. But I’d left those days behind. I hadn’t been a delinquent teenage asshole in a very long time.
But it did make me curious what she meant by that and how the hell someone who was publicly intoxicated was staring down her nose at me from atop her high horse.
It just went to show you that small towns had long memories. Once you got labeled a loser, it didn’t matter how many successful businesses you owned or operated, you couldn’t shake the label in the end.
Bonnie didn’t do the polite thing where you looked away once you’d drudged up someone’s embarrassing past. She kept her gaze right on me. “You were two grades ahead of me. I had a free period in the afternoon to help with the yearbook, and Mrs. Crowder’s window looked out over the practice field and the field house.”
I nodded, knowing where this was going. It wasn’t shame churning around in my gut but it was close enough.
“You’d skip out of last period nearly every day,” she said conversationally, no malice or judgement in her tone, a small smile tilting her lips. “I’d watch you get on your motorcycle and roar off down the street. A real lone wolf.”
Then Bonnie cupped her small hands and held them above her ears and let loose a high-pitched howl that had every head turning in our direction.
I fought a laugh as I looked down at the wood-grain surface. But I brought my attention back to her when she said quietly, “You didn’t know I existed. I was just a sophomore, and you were Mister Badass with your leather jacket.”
“Still have that leather jacket,” I said.
But she didn’t seem to notice. “And your attitude and you harem.”
I frowned. “Okay, I don’t think it was a harem.” I heard Sasha make a choking sound to my left, but I ignored her.
“And you still don’t know I exist,” Bonnie said on a sigh. She placed her elbow on the bar and rested her chin in her hand. “We play softball against each other once a month.”
She played third base for the teachers’ team, but I wasn’t about to correct her. Now that I’d placed her, I knew who she was. One time, she’d tagged me out on the ass and then followed me into the dugout apologizing profusely, her face so red, I thought she might pass out.
But other than rec league sports, our paths didn’t really cross—not in any meaningful way. She was right about that.
I didn’t remember her from high school. Mostly because I was too angry and stupid to notice anyone like her. And now, well, why would I?
Bonnie Clark was a bright, shiny do-gooder. I didn’t know what grade or subject she taught, but I was sure she excelled at it. She wanted to mold young minds and support future generations. I bet she came in early, stayed late, and bought classroom supplies with her own money.
In the Venn diagram of Kirby Falls, our circles didn’t touch.
She was in the same category as all off-limits women. She was married, and I didn’t fuck around with that.
I considered her for a long moment. “I know who you are. You’re one of the Clarks. You’re just not one of the farming ones.”
She shook her head in a way that said she was very disappointed in her student. “And you’re still a lone wolf.”
Bonnie cupped her hands again and made to howl, but I pressed my finger against her lips, fighting a smile.
God, she was hammered.
“Can you call someone to pick you up?” I asked. “Where’s your husband?” Then I winced, remembering what Kayla had said earlier.
Bonnie leaned away from my finger, gaze and voice going frosty. “I don’t have one of those anymore.”
I was not touching that with a fucking barge-pole. “How about we call Will or your sister?”
“No, thank you,” she replied primly as her blinks grew slower. “I’m here to celebrate. I am officially divorced and I’m going home with someone.”
Then her eyes closed and her head drooped fully into her hand. Her elbow slid along the smooth surface of the bar until she was slumped over, breathing deeply.
I shook my head. Passed-out Princess Barbie wasn’t going anywhere.
“Kayla,” I called, keeping my gaze on Bonnie to make sure she didn’t fall off her stool, “can you get ahold of someone to come get her?”
My bartender answered, cocktail shaker in hand, “I already tried calling Larry but she’s out on a date. Mac is not answering. I don’t have Will’s number. And I’m not trying her parents. This will be embarrassing enough in the morning. And Sasha and I are closing tonight. You should just take her home.”
I stared at her incredulously. “Me?”
Kayla strained the alcohol into a glass, added a curl of lemon peel, and then delivered it to the woman in front of her before coming to my side. Speaking quietly she informed me, “I heard she moved out of her grandparents’ house over at the farm. So I don’t actually know where she’s staying. Danny kicked her out when he said he wanted a divorce.”
I blew out a breath. Jesus, what a prince.
Kayla and I watched as Bonnie’s mouth dropped open, emitting a small snore.
I reached forward and shook her shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”
Kayla whacked me on the arm and walked off.
Bonnie mumbled and attempted to straighten.
“Where do you live?” I asked.
Her eyes drifted closed again. “Stranger danger. I can’t tell you.”
I placed my hands on my hips as frustration mounted. I just wanted this townie out of my bar. Bonnie Clark was a fucking headache, right between my eyes.
I followed Kayla to the register where she was ringing in an order for deviled eggs with candied bacon. “I’ll finish your shift. Just take her home.”
Her fingers moved across the touch screen deftly but she didn’t look away. “No, I need the tips.”
“I’ll pay you.”
Kayla side-eyed me. “Just like a man. Trying to buy your way out of your problems.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, you have like ten minutes before she pukes all over the bar. Just take her upstairs, Jack. This isn’t that hard.”
“I don’t even know her.”
“You know her enough.” Kayla’s gaze moved over my shoulder. “Or you could let that guy take her home.”
Cursing, I spun around to find a very sloppy Bonnie giggling over some tech bro in head-to-toe Patagonia.
I approached with a scowl but Romeo missed it completely.
“Hey, man. I want to buy the lady here a drink.”
Straightening to my full height, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Seriously, man ? Consent. Go look it up.”
His bright white smile slowly slid into frowny confusion. “What?”
I indicated the woozy blond at his side. “She’s barely upright. Get the fuck out of here.”
Tech Bro opened his mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it. He turned and went back to his table where four other similarly-dressed tourists booed his apparent inability to close the deal with a semi-conscious woman.
If Bonnie minded that I’d scared off her one-night-stand potential, she didn’t show it. Instead, she had a hand pressed to the skin at the base of her throat as she frowned down at the bar top. “I don’t feel so great.”
Fuck, I needed to get her gone.
I clapped once to get her attention. That felt like something a teacher would respond to. “Listen up, buttercup. Since you won’t tell me where you live, I’m taking you upstairs.”
She was still pale but she visibly perked up. “Ohhh, what’s upstairs?”
“It’s where I live.”
“I can vouch for him,” Kayla said, suddenly materializing at my side.
Bonnie’s brows furrowed as she looked between the two of us. But then she released a long breath that I thought might knock her off her chair. “Okay, fine. But can I have the rest of that samosa?”
Leaf You Hanging is coming November 4, 2025!