Seeing Red (Bliss Peak #2)

Prologue

The first time I laid eyes on True St. John, she was dancing.

Alone.

In a crowded bar.

With her eyes closed and face turned to the ceiling, she swayed along to the tune of Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” coming from the jukebox in the back of Lucky’s Tavern.

Somehow, the crowd around her seemed unfazed by her presence, but I couldn’t pull my eyes away. So, I sat there from my spot at the bar and watched her with a strange pit forming in the center of my chest.

She danced with ease in the tight space. Like she was the only one there.

Or maybe that had more to do with my perception.

For all I knew, she was the only one there.

Her hands fisted the skirt of her dress so it wouldn’t tangle at her feet.

And she kept swaying.

And swaying.

And I kept watching her, mesmerized by the fact that she was so caught up in her own world she didn’t think to be self-conscious.

How did she do that?

Lose herself so completely in the music that everything else faded away?

I absently reached for my beer to take another sip, only to realize I’d already finished it while watching the woman with the beautiful Fro that reminded me of a glass of merlot.

The sultry notes of Sade’s voice continued to fill the bar, the words soaking straight through to my soul.

I keep crying.

As if on cue, a single tear coasted past the curve of her umber cheek and toward her ear. But she didn’t wipe it away, and she didn’t stop dancing.

I was close enough to see a sad smile round her full lips. The lone tear dissolved almost as quick as that smile, and the pit in my chest began to thrum with a dull ache.

Was it a breakup? Was that the reason she was dancing with such abandon? Was she mourning the end of something she thought would last forever?

Before my mind could summon more questions, a soft voice broke my trance, pulling my attention back to the bar in front of me.

“Can I get you another Blue Moon, honey?” The bartender, Trinity, stared at me with warm eyes and I smiled without thinking. It was hard not to in Bliss Peak. Everybody was so damn nice, it was damn near impossible not to be in a good mood when you set foot outside your door. The people in this town made it their business to make sure everyone was okay.

“One more,” I answered, staring vacantly at the empty glass in front of me.

“I got ya, honey.” Trinity was gone for a full minute before I noticed Sade’s voice no longer filled the bar and had been replaced with Tanner Adell’s.

My eyes flew to the jukebox in the back corner and a frown claimed my face when I realized the dancing woman had vanished.

An instant sense of loss washed over me, and that dull ache in my chest tightened to an uncomfortable pinch at the awareness that the stranger was gone.

Was she okay?

Where had she gone?

When Trinity brought over my next beer, I asked her about the woman who’d been dancing in the corner and a wistful smile tipped up her lips.

“That was True St. John. Pauly and Ruby Jean’s granddaughter.”

For some reason, hearing who she was related to made invisible puzzle pieces click in place. Ms. Ruby had the same magnetic pull about her, making it impossible not to feel something in her presence.

But why hadn’t I run into True before?

“She come here often?” I asked before Trinity could turn away to serve someone else.

The bartender’s smile slipped just a fraction, and her words were cryptic when she said, “We’ll see.”

We’ll see.

I sipped my beer, remembering the way she’d lost herself in the music, wondering what it felt like to completely submit to something and let it move through me.

It seemed freeing. Cathartic. Peace-inducing.

Halfway through that second beer, I tapped out and settled my tab, knowing I needed to drive to the other side of the mountain to get home. I wasn’t a lightweight, but I didn’t need anything impairing me while I pushed my truck to make the climb up to the resort.

For the whole twenty-minute trip home, I repeated True’s name over the soft hum of the radio.

“ True St. John .”

Ruby Jean’s granddaughter.

Liked Sade.

Liked to dance.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was something.

Where had she gone tonight? Was she safe?

I didn’t know why the answers to those questions mattered so much. She didn’t even know me. So why was my mind obsessing over whether she was okay?

As much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the sight of that damn tear from my head or the way she looked when it fell. There was melancholy clinging to her, but peace hadn’t been far behind. She didn’t look upset, she looked resolved. And I wanted to know what that was about. Even though I knew the chances of me seeing her again and getting to ask her were slim to none.

Still, I tucked the questions away in the back of my mind in case the universe was listening and we crossed paths again.

What I didn’t know was the next time I saw True St. John, she would be on my best friend’s arm.