Chapter 11
After our long, awkward pause, which mostly came from me because I was unsure of what to say or do after my revelation. I threw laundry in, changed, and took a very slow walk over to the bar.
Growing up, I wasn’t the popular girl. I was the quirky, awkward girl who more often than not said the weirdest things at all the wrong times. Of course that caught the eye of the quarterback, the man I refuse to name—aside from calling him a sperm donor.
I digress. I preferred sitting on the bleachers with a good book, and on occasion, a flask stolen from Gram, who often looked the other way. Look, sixteen-year-olds will experiment. Gram knew that and let me make my own mistakes.
Granted, one of those mistakes led to a teen pregnancy, but I don’t regret it.
The point is, she was my best friend. Then Eric.
I’ve never had…girlfriends. Even saying the word feels odd, wrong somehow. Not that I’ve never given thought to having girlfriends, just that I never really had the chance. Not as a kid, a teen, or an adult.
Perhaps that’s why I keep dragging my feet through the slush, my dress boots sliding and threatening to take me down. That would almost be easier than making friends.
Sorry, can’t make it. Fell on my bum in these shiny new shoes I’ve worn only a handful of times, and now I’m covered in slush.
They’d probably sit me in front of a fire. My shoes are cute though, so I’ve got that going for me.
I glance back at the B&B, the place that somehow became my safe haven, only to find Arlo standing on the porch in his flannel armor with his arms crossed. Am I so transparent that he knows I’m already trying to make up excuses as to how I can get out of this?
Yes, yes, I am.
With a huff, I trudge up the steps and push open the door to peals of laughter. I almost run right back out, but I push on because I am self-confident like that. I’m not.
The interior is not at all what I expected. I mean, it’s a small town, so a part of me fully expected a run-down bar with a cloud of smoke, but that isn’t what I find.
The first thing that hits me is the scent of fried food, making my stomach grumble with interest. The second is the beautiful wooden bar in front of me. It’s U-shaped with a floating wall behind it. Stools line the bar top, though there’s no one there.
On no, they sit at one of the tables that line the perimeter of the bar.
I find Bloom and two other women in a corner. Feeling eager for the first time in a long time, I force my head up and walk toward them, feigning confidence I’m sure as heck not feeling.
Bloom notices me, and her eyes light up. I’m pretty sure she didn’t think I’d show. I guess I really am that transparent. The other two stop chatting and glance at me.
One is obviously Autumn. She looks like the spitting image of Arlo, only in female form and a lot more feminine.
She’s still tall, but with blonde hair arranged in a bun on the top of her head.
What I don’t expect are the ripped jeans, tank top, and full sleeve tattoos.
She takes me in from head to toe before she cocks her head to the side.
The other woman is a woman I could see myself befriending.
Licking cheese off her fingers, she narrowly avoids getting the stray brown hair flying from her ponytail in her mouth.
Stains cover her shirt and jeans while she sits with one bare foot propped on another chair, her flip-flops about five feet away.
Wait, who wears flip-flops in the not autumn?
She doesn’t even notice me as her tongue finds her margarita straw.
I’m so close to them when my heel finds a notch in the floor and I go flying.
Ah, grace, you failed trait.
I stop my still bruised chin from smacking against the floor as laughter surrounds me.
“That was the best ice breaker I’ve ever seen.” Thick black boots come into my field of vision just before I see a hand.
Groaning, I slap my palm into hers and let the woman I know is Arlo’s twin help me up. “My body aches.”
“I have a cure for that.” Autumn chuckles, leading me to a chair and gently pushing me into it.
“Tequila cures everything,” the woman who licked cheese off her fingers chimes in before holding out the very same hand covered in saliva for me to shake.
Eh, I’ve put my hand in worse situations. I shake it, finding her cherub face friendly as she chuckles.
“Didn’t think you’d take it, but I’m here for it.
” She wipes her hand on a napkin as Autumn throws one at me.
“I’m Paris. You know Bloom, and this is Autumn.
” The awkward round of hellos begins as I try to commit each of them to memory, but with it being just the three of them, I should be able to achieve it.
“You don’t look like a Paris.” Ah, word vomit, how I missed you so.
Bloom’s laugh is like one of those cartoon songs where birds land on her shoulder and raccoons clean for her. “Paris just got off her shift over at the pizzeria.”
“That explains the stains.” I grab the margarita like the lifeline it is when Autumn pushes it over to me. She flops into the chair across from me with a solid thud before stealing a nacho. “What’s the rule here? Are the nachos free game?”
“Consume!” Paris pushes the plate toward my grumbling stomach.
“Wren, how was your first day at the library?” Bloom questions from beside me. Her own drink sits on a napkin, and her chin rests on the top of her hand, her perfectly manicured baby pink fingers dangling down.
“I love it over there, but I can’t figure out Ms. Aberdeen or why the library was closed.” I shove a nacho in my mouth, wondering if I spoke too much.
“Because” —heels clack behind me, startling me into almost choking on a nacho— “she’s a batty old lady.”
“Dammit, Kenz, try not to startle the new girl. She already fell once,” Paris grumbles around the food in her mouth.
This Kenz sits between Autumn and me, throwing her purse on another chair.
Red hair spills down her back in elegant pressed waves, while a button nose holds clear thick-rimmed glasses on her freckled face.
Though she wears a pantsuit, I feel this one might curse like a sailor and drink like one too.
Grabbing the bottle of tequila, she throws it back, chugging before slamming it on the table, clutching the saltshaker and shaking some on her tongue, then sticking a lemon in her mouth.
“Kenzie!” Autumn swipes the bottle from her and cleans the spout with a rag. “Germs.”
“My dear, seasoned friend, do not convince me we won’t finish that bottle by the end of the night. It is Monday, and I need that tequila. Ernie,” Kenzie says the name with mockery, “drove me insane all day, and if he asks me out one more time, I’m going to end up in a jail cell.”
That escalated quickly.
“We’d bury the body before anyone could point a finger at you,” Paris states casually before sipping her drink.
“It would be painfully obvious.” Kenzie peers at me, her green eyes lit with a strange light. “You, tell me more. You fell out a window, yes?”
“Then she tripped over her feet.” Paris points at the floor with a nacho. “Right there.”
“Fascinating.” She reaches her hand out to me, sans nacho saliva, so I take it with a little more confidence than I did before. “I’m Kenzie, I work at the courthouse.”
“Runs it,” Paris chimes in again.
“Well, you are the judge and the pseudo mayor all rolled up into one little rug,” Bloom adds.
“Only because no one wanted to run this little town.” Kenzie’s green eyes squint at me. “You—”
“No, oh no.” I sip my drink, wondering how to broach this topic. “I’m not staying.”
“You sure looked like you were staying when you were talking to my brother on the tailgate earlier.” I can’t tell if Autumn is teasing me or not. It could go either way.
My cheeks blaze with heat. “How?” I almost spill my drink. “Do you guys have cameras set up everywhere?”
“My mother was spying from the windows.” She waves a picture of Arlo and me to everyone. It isn’t even through a screen. “See?”
I snatch the phone from her hands, wondering how Saffron took it. But more importantly, how did she capture the two of us at just the right angle to show both our faces and how we look at each other… I hand the phone back.
“Don’t question it. The residents of this town are like little detectives,” Kenzie says while stealing a nacho.
“You mean nosy,” Paris corrects, sitting up for the first time to wiggle in her seat while muttering under her breath about her butt being numb.
“They just want to make sure you are settling in all right.” Bloom lays a delicate hand on my shoulder, her smile never faltering.
“Or to see what kind of person she is,” Paris chimes in. I’m thinking she has a comment about everything.
“If you’re leaving, what’s the plan with Arlo?” Autumn asks, and once again, she throws me for a loop. She’s tough as nails, and her voice carries like a shotgun. “Test-driving the men in Silent Springs before moving on?”
“Is this an interrogation?” She makes me uncomfortable, and yet I know she isn’t wrong. If the roles were reversed, I’d feel the same way about someone being interested in my brother.
Who is also coming here for Thanksgiving.
“Do you want it to be?” Autumn counters.
“Ladies, put a cap in it.” Kenzie flutters her hands.
“I’ve had enough of this small town today, so don’t make it worse.
And Autumn, what the heck does it matter?
You jump on any stranger coming through this town and ride him for a few days before going back to your bar. Little miss commitment-phobe.”
“Fine.” Autumn crosses her arms and sits back with a defiant expression on her face, telling me this isn’t over.
Look at me making friends.
I glance at Bloom, who avoids my gaze.
Best friends.
“So, back to the library,” Bloom begins. “I hear you are bringing back story time.”
“When?” Paris sits up, her eyes wide and more energized than the entire time I’ve been here. “How long? Will you take my child? Take. Him!”