Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Scott Hamilton was hot.
Well, he'd always been hot, but this was grown-up hot. Apparently I'd been too mortified at the store to realize the teenager I used to know had become a mountain man.
In high school he was adorably cute, and kind, but also kind of a badass. He didn't fall in with the cool clique. He played sports but wasn't a jock. He got good grades but wasn't a nerd. He was just...Scott.
"Did I hit you harder than I realized?" He cocked his cute head to the side. Besides the brown flannel shirt, he wore a Lost Creek Bigfoot t-shirt underneath, worn jeans, and equally worn brown boots. He had his ball cap on backwards with his light brown hair curling along the edges.
Scott was a snack.
"I'm just surprised you recognized me," I blurted with the finesse of a teenager.
I really needed to stop thinking about high school.
He jerked back a little. "Seriously?" His eyes swept over me in a way that made my toes curl.
What the heck was that about? "Uh, yeah?"
His eyes narrowed. "Is this why you've been avoiding me?"
"Me? No." I sputtered and flailed. "Okay yes. Maybe."
Everything about him softened from his broad shoulders to his brown eyes. "Oh thank goodness. I thought you hated me."
Wait...what? "Why would I hate you?" And why did I keep blushing from head to toe? I had to be beet red by this point. Plus my boots were entirely too small for this amount of toe curling.
"I don't know. But you've been home since October and we haven't spoken once. You duck into doors or hide your face. I've been convinced I accidentally did something in high school that you've hated me for all these years. Plus Joanne comes into the bar all the time. You and Joanne are joined at the hip. Therefore, you clearly hate me."
"No! I, okay, let's back this up." I flung my hand at the store. "I saw you in there and you didn't recognize me."
"When?" his voice jumped two octaves.
"Literally the day I got back into town." Had I had this wrong the entire time? Months of stressing for nothing?
He frowned. "I...don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"You were looking at soap and I was buying crackers. There were a bunch of tourists buying beer."
"Oh shit." He went white. "Now I know what you're talking about. Shit. Shit!" He yanked off his hat and ran his big man-hand through his hair, spinning in a small circle before he plopped the hat back where it was and pressed his hands together like he was about to say grace. "Those assholes had made my life hell the night before at work. I saw you when you walked in. I planned to come over and say hi but those jerks." He shook his head and sighed. "Look, I left out the back door because I was afraid I'd lose my shit on them. I didn't want to make a scene. I didn't want to start a fight with five guys. And I definitely didn't want to get arrested. So I left. It had nothing to do with you."
Well, that was a version of events I hadn't even considered. But it made sense. That group was unusually obnoxious. "So you did recognize me?" Something fluttered inside my chest.
"Of course. When you started avoiding me I thought I'd done something wrong. That's why I didn't say anything at your dad's funeral. I didn't want to upset you on that day of all days."
That was sweet. And kind. I pressed my hand to my forehead. "I'm so, so sorry. This is all just a mix-up."
He let out a chuckle. "No, it's okay. I'm just relieved I don't have some deep, dark, completely forgotten transgression from a decade ago to make up for." Even his voice did things to me. It was smooth but soft. Warm and inviting.
I needed to escape before I did something crazy...like kiss him. "Well it's good to see you, Scott. And I do mean good ." I started fumbling with my keys.
"Good to see you, too. Hopefully we'll run into each other again soon."
I nodded and stuck my key in the door while he stepped around me.
Oh, we'd be running into each other again real soon. And now I was actually looking forward to a couple of hours of serial killer talk.
"Yes, but the way he chose his victims is what really kept me turning the pages." Liam Goodrich was doing the bulk of the talking about the actual plot of the book. "He didn't choose his roommates. He always picked someone else on the block."
"I thought that was so smart," June Sinclair gushed. "And he was careful not to leave any connections."
"Until he kept the dog," Aunt Sharon groaned. "How does a serial killer who enjoys murdering people care more about the dog?"
My gaze strayed to the bar where Scott was now doing inventory. He had a pencil he kept clamping with his teeth or sticking behind his ear. Every time someone said murder or death or killer he shook his head.
I had a feeling he wasn't a huge fan of the serial killer focus of the book club either.
"Because dogs are amazing!" Aviana Rendall laughed. "Isn't that right?" Her Australian Shepherd, Barnaby, drank up her attention.
"Barnaby is the only one of you who isn't borderline psychotic," Scott grumbled.
Still Standing looked very different from the last time I stepped inside. I assumed those changes coincided with Scott taking over from his Uncle Jerry. The section we were seated in had been completely transformed. The booths were renovated with new polished wood and buttery leather, the floor was clean and free of peanut shells, everything gleamed. It even smelled like vanilla. An array of bourbons and whiskeys neatly lined the shelves behind the bar.
The other half of Still Standing looked exactly the same, but cleaner. I was pretty sure the pool tables were new, too.
"Just because our favorite kind of plot involves murderers doesn't mean we are too!" Maeve said it like she said it every time she saw Scott.
He pointed his pencil at us. "The first time someone around here disappears, I'm turning every one of you in. Except maybe Mackenzie. I don't think you've totally corrupted her yet."
My heart did a weird swooping thing in my chest.
" You could corrupt her instead." Maeve winked.
Scott's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"
I sat there in stunned silence. My love life had never come up with Aunt Sharon or Maeve before. It certainly wasn't something I expected them to joke about in the middle of a murder mystery book club.
Aviana grinned. "Maybe we should start a romance book club that meets a different week." Then she put her chin in her hand and bounced her eyebrows first at me, then at Scott.
Oh hell.
This wasn't just an intervention to get me out of hiding. This was a setup.
Scott tossed his dish towel over his shoulder and leaned forward on the bar. "I find my own dates, you murderous little book nerds. And so does Mackenzie." He looked right at me, nodded once, and went back to work.
But my heart was still stuck in my throat. My toes kept curling and my heart kept beating out of rhythm. It was a sudden, strong reaction that led me to believe my body liked Scott, but my brain was having a hard time keeping up with all these changes.
Plus what did that mean? I find my own dates.
"Did you like the book, Mack?" Aviana asked, a look of pure glee on her face as she scratched Barnaby's ear.
"Uh...yes and no." I tried to force my brain away from thoughts of Scott and onto the book by staring at Barnaby. "It was a very interesting plot and the characters were fascinating, but now I'm terrified a serial killer is going to walk into my apartment and murder me."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scott freeze. The corner of Aviana's lips turned up and her eyes twinkled. "But we don't have serial killers in Lost Creek."
"Yet," I muttered. "We're a small town in the mountains. A killer could slip in, do a murder, and slip out. He could hide in the wilderness, coming and going as he pleased."
Yeah, my imagination had gone into overdrive.
"Or..." she drawled, "you could have a big, strong bar owner protect you."
Harrison Smith groaned. "I was on board with getting them in the same room, but this is too much. You have to stop."
Even sweet Harrison was in on this? I'd been betrayed by everyone. "What made you guys think this was a good idea?" Sure Scott and I knew each other, but there was a pretty big leap from that to potential romantic partners.
As if there was some sort of secret signal, they all began gathering up their stuff. Aunt Sharon and Maeve slid out of their booth and came closer. "Look," Maeve said first, "your dad asked us to make sure you found your way back. We tried getting you out of the house with Joanne. Didn't work. So we're pulling this card now." She glanced past me to the bar where I could only imagine Scott was either hiding or glaring daggers. "Your dad always liked Scottie, and Sharon and I, well, we see things others don't."
"Like what?"
Aunt Sharon cupped my cheek. "He's always watched you, and you've always watched him. Why neither of you ever made a move, we're not sure. But you're both here, you're both single, and you could both use some excitement in your lives. Let him make you lunch, huh? See what happens."
This had quickly become the strangest day of my life. "You set us both up on a surprise blind date?"
She gave my cheek a pat. "Sure did. Have fun, sweetie!" And with that, the entire TBCIMA book club left.
And I was alone in an empty bar with Scott Hamilton.
"You like mac & cheese bites? I had enough for the group already in the fryer."
I spun around. "We're letting them get away with this? What happened to I find my own dates? " I didn't know whether to be angry, embarrassed, or relieved.
"Well, I also don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He shrugged. "We're back to being friends, aren't we? Let me feed you." There wasn't a trace of pity on his face.
In fact, he looked hopeful. What was happening? And why did let me feed you sound so damn sexy? "Okay. Sure. Fine. But you don't have to."
Scott rolled his eyes as he stepped around the bar. He pushed open a swinging door. "Do I look like the kind of man who does anything he doesn't want to? Kitchen." He jerked his head.
"No you don't." I scurried past him and into the small but very clean room.
"Besides, this is hands down the most fun that group has ever been. You got them to stop talking about murder. You might be my new favorite person." In the middle of the room sat a large stainless-steel table. Scott pulled out a stool. "Take a seat. You're in luck. I have a bourbon tasting group booked for 2pm so I was about to prep their lunch, which means you don't have to subsist on jalape?o poppers and nuts."
"No chicken wings?"
He shot me a look. "That's on the rotating menu. If I keep them around all the time Big Al turns this place into a mess. Bones everywhere."
"Good to know some things never change, unlike this bar. Someone's been busy." Still Standing was the very definition of a dive bar. Well, it was. Now it was borderline fancy.
Scott's cheeks turned slightly pink as he turned away, busying himself with the fryer. "Uh, yeah. Uncle Jerry grumbled and said it was a waste of money, but now that our profits have doubled, he's keeping quiet."
I whistled. "Doubled? Nice work."
"Thanks." He set a plate in front of me with cube-shaped fried macaroni and cheese and a white dipping sauce. "How does a salad and a pimento cheese chicken sandwich sound?"
My mouth instantly began watering. "You're seriously making me lunch?"
The intensity of his gaze took my breath away. "I'm seriously making you lunch, Mackenzie. You in?"
For the first time in a long time, I wanted to take a chance. “I’m in.”