Chapter 4
Chapter Four
WEST
West Brooks showing up at a dive bar on the side of the highway wouldn’t have made anyone’s list of likely sightings.
Hell, I’d only stepped foot in the place once, and that was weeks ago when I tagged along with Miles when he needed to check in with the bartender.
We hadn’t stayed long, and I’d felt the itch to leave the second I walked in.
The second time was different.
I was alone. I wanted a drink.
And I was trying to resist the pull to climb back into the car and head straight for Atlanta.
Fiddlers was packed, buzzing with energy that rivaled the constant noise of the city. The walls seemed to vibrate with conversation and clinking glassware. There was music in the background but it wasn’t loud.
Miles and Easton raved about Fiddlers. Before their lives turned into lovey dovey shit, they would tell me everything that would go down at the infamous dive bar. It never interested me much, but it always made me happy that they had a place like that to go.
I found a spot in the corner and sat down, keeping distance from the bar, but close enough to watch everything unfold. I didn’t want to be approached, I just wanted to watch and try to see what my brothers saw in the old place.
That’s when I saw her.
The bartender moved like she owned the damn place. She was efficient, effortless, and sharp. Her blonde hair was pulled back, a few strands loose around a face that was frustratingly familiar.
I watched her while I slowly nursed a bourbon, trying to place where I’d seen her before. The longer I looked, the more certain I became that I had known her. Somewhere.
Then the drunk guy, who also held a hint of familiarity, leaned over the bar, slurring too loud, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. He pushed into her space with the confidence of a man who’d never been told no.
She didn’t flinch, nor did she look rattled. But she did draw a clear boundary that the drunk guy ignored completely.
Then he dropped his glass.
It hit the floor and shattered, the sound cracking like a shot across the room. Every conversation dipped for a beat and all eyes shifted toward the bar.
That was when she snapped.
She rounded the bar, a towel flying off her shoulder like a white flag that meant anything but surrender. She was storming toward him with murder in her eyes.
I didn’t think. Didn’t plan. I just moved toward them, hoping to somehow mitigate the impending battle.
The petite bartender was either going to break his face or break herself trying, and neither seemed like a good idea.
“Easy,” I said, catching her wrist mid-swing.
She froze at my touch, her entire body taut with rage.
I stepped in front of her, gently pushing her behind me and shielding her. The drunk squinted up at me, breath thick with beer and stench.
“You’re done here,” I said evenly.
“Don’t think so, rich boy,” he growled, though he swayed when he said it.
Cute nickname. It meant he knew who I was but that didn’t shock me. Most people around Harmony Haven knew I existed.
I tilted my head, saying nothing. Daring him.
He blinked a few times, but backed down. He shrugged and faced toward his buddy. “Rich boy is lucky I’m tired,” he muttered. “Let’s spare him tonight.”
I didn’t move until they were out the door and the room's energy shifted back to something almost normal.
Then the bartender shoved past me, hands on her hips, her glare hot enough to singe skin.
“I had it handled,” she snapped.
“You were about to shatter your fingers on his jaw.”
She lifted her chin, fierce and unyielding. “Would’ve been worth it.”
“No doubt,” I said, allowing a small grin. “But you’d hate sitting in the emergency room with a cast.”
Something flickered in her eyes. She was somewhere between irritated and amused. Without another word, she turned and disappeared behind the bar, dismissing me like I was just another headache in her already long night.
I stood there for a beat, unsure if I should sit back down, or leave. But I felt her eyes on me. Even with my back turned.
I made the decision to slide back into my seat, but the bourbon didn’t taste the same anymore.
It had gone warm, forgotten.
Still, I stayed and watched. Not her this time, but everyone else.
The way they carried on like that hadn’t been the first time something like that happened.
Like it wouldn’t be the last. It bothered me more than it should have.
It was a dive bar, after all, that kind of thing always happened, right?
When my eyes scanned back to the bar, I saw the feisty bartender working like nothing had happened. She was serving drinks, throwing out smiles, and ignoring the glass that still sparkled in the creases of the floor.
But I saw the way her hand trembled when she poured the next whiskey. The way she blinked too long, like she was trying to reset. Drunk bastards may have been common in a dive bar, but that didn’t mean it was easy for the people who had to deal with it.
Two voices behind me caught my attention. I didn’t turn to look and they had no idea I could hear them, but I tuned in when I heard what they were discussing.
“Those two are only going to make her life harder now that Officer Brooks is gone.”
“And you know Jeff won’t do a damn thing. He likes their beer money more than he likes protecting his staff.”
I never turned around or asked questions. Just let the names settle in my mind. Jeff must have been the owner. Miles used to tell me about the trouble the Murphy brothers caused, so it was safe to bet that the guys I’d just faced down were the same ones he’d always complained about.
I shouldn't have given a shit. I had my hands in enough things to keep me busy for a lifetime. The other thing I should have been doing is figuring out how to fix my lie with Mr. McConnell. The only thing I could come up with was telling him we broke off the engagement, that it wasn’t meant to be.
But that would definitely make him backtrack, wondering if he could trust me. I was a fixer. I wanted to fix everything, probably to make up for the one thing I couldn’t fix.
Me.
My phone was already in my hand and a plan was being formulated before I could think of what a shitty idea it was. But I was on a roll that day, why stop now?
I was tapping a name from my contacts and held the phone to my ear as I got up. I left enough cash on the table to cover everyone’s tabs that night and made my way out the door as it was nearing midnight.
The parking lot was packed, but quiet, and I leaned against the hood of my car, eyes flickering between the neon sign of Fiddlers and Marcus, who was standing ready by the car door.
“I need to talk to you about a place in Harmony Haven,” I said into my phone. “I have an idea.”
My eyes went back to the bar, noticing the cracks that somehow held the place together. It was important to the community. It was important to my brothers. And for some reason, it flickered through my mind that it was important to her.
And I had the ability to make it better with just one fucking call.