Chapter 7 Of Celebrations and Afterthoughts #2
In typical Noah fashion, he downplayed his part. “Nah. A lot of people made this happen. Charlie, for instance.”
Hailey brushed her hand over his shoulder. “That may be true, but without you driving the bus, so to speak, the depot would have continued to sit and rot. Charlie wouldn’t have had a building to fix up.”
“Well, it’s been a long time coming, and I’m glad it finally came.”
“Modest, isn’t he?” Amy snickered.
“That’s my barkeep.” Grinning, Hailey walked to the opposite end of the bar to help a customer while Noah took an order from Dixie.
Scanning the crowd once more, Amy zeroed in on Micky, currently lost in conversation with a bunch of motorheads.
She tried waving at him, hoping he’d glance her way so she could flag him down.
But she didn’t want to relinquish her barstool, not when she’d only sat down a few minutes ago.
Someone else would claim it if she got up.
Micky was her ride home, though, and she was ready to submerge her body up to her chin in a tub filled with steaming water and a lavender bath bomb.
After fortifying herself with the soak, she would break her news to him.
Or maybe she’d skip the bath and get it over with on the ride home.
But as usual, he wasn’t looking her way. To him, she was … an afterthought.
She dreaded that short ride home. Maybe she could walk the four blocks through the ice and snow and wind.
Her anger had been simmering ever since he’d embarrassed her earlier today, and she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him during the hours that had followed.
The frosty weather might cool her off, but the inkiness beyond the bar’s windows derailed that idea.
No, she needed that ride. She also needed to get her frustration off her chest, along with letting him know she was moving out so he wasn’t blindsided when the news lit up the grapevine.
Now her gaze was drawn to a cluster of laughing people, all of whom she recognized.
At the center stood Deputy Shane, who had shed his uniform for a spruce-green button-down and faded blue jeans.
He was easy to spot because he was taller than the rest. A secret smile curved her lips as she watched him miming a train engineer laying on the horn.
Such a good guy.
His attention snapped to the front door and riveted on someone who seemed to have blown into the tavern on a gust of wind and a swirl of snowflakes.
She pulled off her scarf, revealing a face that was pretty and pale.
Only when Amy saw the glasses that lent her a sexy librarian vibe did she recognize Estelle.
Trailing after her were Charlie Hunnicutt and his wife, Joy.
Much as she had at the Boarding Call, Estelle zeroed in on Shane and broke out in a brilliant smile as she made a beeline for him. “Shane! Exactly who I was hoping to see,” she trilled.
A stab of envy behind Amy’s breastbone caught her unaware. Where had that come from? The answer was as obvious as the dropping temperature outside. You don’t have pale skin, and you sure as heck don’t give off a sexy vibe … of any kind.
Envy was soon replaced by curiosity, though, at Shane’s reaction to Estelle’s arrival. His expression shifted from geniality to surprise, ending with annoyance that darkened his features.
Whoa! What’s that about? I thought she was his “dirty little secret.”
The group surrounding him parted as Estelle swayed into his personal bubble.
Clearly uncomfortable, Shane seemed to pull back—almost a recoil.
If the man had a poker face—and as a law enforcement officer, he should have one, right?
—it was clearly not functioning. Lids framed by thick, dusty-brown lashes blinked repeatedly, and his light caramel eyes were as round as his mouth.
The telltale reaction was like something from a cartoon show.
His expression shifted once more. This time panic overtook his features. “H-hey, Estelle.”
Unlike the deputy, Estelle shared none of his uneasiness.
Instead, her eyes reflected a desire to devour him.
The woman was smiling like the cat who ate the canary—or who had, in fact, eaten the deputy at some point in the past. The yellow feathers were practically poking out between her cherry-red lips.
None of this was any of Amy’s business, yet a frisson of relief snaked its way through her as she watched Shane back away.
She didn’t care to examine her reaction too closely.
Instead, she wrote off her relief to knowing the big-city girl wouldn’t be luring away the small-town boy anytime soon.
Fall River needed Shane O’Brien. And Estelle was not the woman he needed.
Who that person might be or why Estelle wasn’t the one, Amy wasn’t sure.
Shane didn’t really date, but Amy had an instinct about these things—when it came to everyone but herself—and deep in her bones, she knew she was right about Shane and Estelle.
She couldn’t fault Estelle for being attracted to Shane, though.
Lots of women were. What wasn’t there to like about the handsome deputy whose smile could light up a room but whose lethally serious side came out when he was taking care of their little town or rescuing someone off the side of a mountain?
Heroic, intoxicating stuff that made a girl’s head spin, though it had no effect on Amy, of course. Nope. None whatsoever.
The barstool beside Amy opened up, giving her room to swivel freely, so she faced the bar again and chatted with Hailey.
When Hailey got busy, Amy swung back toward the tavern’s interior.
Shane had joined some of his search and rescue team, and Estelle was still stuck to him like a Velcro strip.
He looked up at Amy, catching her watching him, and smiled.
She smiled back—reflex—as heat rushed up her neck.
She moved her gaze along so he wouldn’t think she was staring at him, taking in the faces in the tavern instead of focusing on just the one that continually drew her attention.
Most of those faces belonged to locals who were her customers too, and they made Mountain Coffee buzz in the morning.
Miners Tavern might have been the heart of the town in the evenings, but her coffee shop started that heart beating every morning.
Yes, she had created that through her own hard work, and she needed to look in the mirror every day and remind herself of all she’d accomplished. Remind herself to take pride in—
“Hey, Aims!”
Amy’s back went rigid, and her jaw firmed at the sound of Micky’s annoyed shout.
Slowly, she turned her head toward him. He was among the same group of guys, and he held up an empty pint glass, which he shook at her, his forehead furrowed in question.
No, more like furrowed in demand, and that demand went something like, “Get me more beer. Now.”
“I got this, Amy,” Hailey sang from the end of the bar. “You’re off duty, remember? Just relax.”
But guilt gnawed at Amy as she watched Hailey pour him a fresh pint.
The guilt might have been spurred on by the look Micky was giving her at this moment.
That look said, “What, is your arm broken?” Though it could also have been, “Why are you sitting on your fat ass while Hailey’s busting hers?
” Not that he’d ever actually uttered those things aloud to her.
His disapproving expression said it for him.
He cocked an exasperated eyebrow, and Amy’s stubborn streak steeled her resolve. Yep, telling him she planned to move out was getting easier by the minute.
Maybe someday she would find a guy who’d wait on her for once. What a nice change of pace that would be!
“You’ve had a tough day, sweetheart. Put your feet up and let me get you a glass of champagne. How about a nice foot massage?”
“Don’t you fret, child. He’ll survive the two-minute wait,” a voice clucked by her ear, pulling Amy from her morass of buried resentment. She swung her head, surprised—yet not—to see Dixie’s ample rear half-seated on the empty barstool beside her.
“I know,” Amy muttered. “But I ignored him, and now Hailey’s having to wait on him.” Maybe Amy had misread his expression, though, and that’s why Hailey had jumped in.
Dixie never held back her opinions—which probably explained why she launched into counseling Amy now.
“That one could use more ignoring, believe you me. And you know I love you to bits, hon, but you have one big ol’ flaw.
” Amy braced herself. “You’re way too nice.
You forgive too easy. You give away too many benefits of the doubts.
” Amy didn’t bother pointing out that Dixie had just rattled off three flaws.
Did being nice and showing grace count as flaws, though?
“You’re not the gal to give him the dose of ignoring he deserves.
As for Hailey, she works here. She’s doing her job, helping her man build his bottom line, which he will then share with her.
This is her business too, so she has a vestment interest, just like he has in her bookstore.
” Vestment interest? Benefits of doubts?
Dixie didn’t slow down. “It’s a partnership, like every marriage should be.
You have a successful business, but if I may say so, that don’t necessarily transfer to your partnerships.
” Dixie elbowed her. “Especially romantic ones. Maybe it’s time our little birdie spread her wings. ”
Amy wasn’t sure whether to be uplifted, insulted, or confused. Or all three.
Dixie patted her arm. Before Amy could slot her emotions into their proper pigeonholes, Dixie slid off the stool and melted into the crowd. How did she do that?
Turning her attention back to Hailey, Amy caught her friend’s eye and mouthed, “Thank you.” Hailey gave her a thumbs-up, and Amy’s shoulders eased a tick.
Inside, she vowed to hug Hailey later. See?
It was the Haileys, the Noahs, the Shanes—and maybe the Dixies—that reminded Amy she had settled in the right place.
A stranger pushed his way to the bar, pausing to look down his nose at her and ruining her hard-won moment of self-reassurance. “My friend and I would like to sit here.” He pointed to a guy standing behind him and then at the empty barstool beside Amy.
Confused, she quipped, “I’m not sure that seat will hold you both.”
“That’s not what I meant,” the dude snapped.
“Okay. So you and your friend would like to sit here. You’re telling me this why?”
“Because this is the only empty stool, and you’re sitting in the other seat we want.”
Talk about some big brass ones! “And you expect me to give up my seat just because you want it?”
“Yeah. I mean, let’s be real. Shouldn’t you be washing dishes instead of taking up a barstool intended for paying customers?”
Indignation sizzled like a bolt of electricity in her veins. “Excuse me? What makes you think I’m not a paying customer? And let’s be real,” she snarled, “what gives you the right to demand any seat you want?”
He pointed at her face and gave her an ugly sneer. “Maybe it’s time you went back to Mexico.”
Momentarily stunned, her thoughts scattered, and she couldn’t articulate …
anything. Her mind was blank. As outrage crystallized into a string of incoherent sentences, she opened her mouth to let this asshole have both barrels, but nothing came out.
He laughed. And that’s when a big hand descended on his shoulder and yanked him around.
“Maybe it’s time you left. After you apologize to the lady. ”