Chapter Twenty-Two
I stared at the scrap of paper, my heart in my throat, my hand shaking.
The page had been ripped in half—and ripped from something. The left edge was jagged, like it had been torn straight out of a book.
The words were faint pencil. Scrawled like an afterthought.
Or intention.
My first impulse was to run across the street to Owen. I didn’t—because Rylyn’s footsteps were already behind me. I shoved the paper into my pocket to examine later.
Then I did what I always did when my world tilted.
I worked.
Filling orders. Answering phones. Creating arrangements.
By late afternoon, Halle arrived on a breeze of vanilla and afternoon sunshine.
I stiffened. We were supposed to grab lunch, and between portals, grief, and the minor detail of my life exploding, it had slipped right past me.
Halle didn’t miss a beat. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“You were?”
“I realized when I saw you the other day I didn’t give you my number.” She pushed her business card into my hand.
One glance down and I saw she was a real estate agent—specializing in historic homes in the area. Quite a niche.
“You can text me or call me anytime,” she said.
I reached for a pen and a scrap of paper and scribbled down my number. “Here’s mine.”
She smiled down at it, then asked, “What are you doing tonight?”
The unexpected question made my head pop up. “Why do you ask?”
Because my initial thought was, I’d be alone with Willow, a chatty Tani, the Red Queen, and too many worries to put away on a Friday night.
“Thought we could go out and have some fun. You look like you need it.”
“I do?” I ran my hand over my short hair, wondering if something was out of place.
Rylyn busied herself at a display case as Halle stepped closer to the counter and lowered her voice.
“And I know you want to talk about…” She nodded to the shop across the street.
Owen. Why was everyone so interested in my love life?
“I don’t.”
She grinned. “Sure. Come out with me. I’m heading to Neon Cowboy after my last showing. First round on me.”
Hesitation crawled through me. I glanced down at my chic capris, strappy sandals and gauzy peasant top. So not Neon Cowboy attire.
“I don’t know. I don’t have anything to wear.”
Halle snorted. “Wear your big city clothes. Those guys won’t know what hit them when you walk in.”
“If I walk in like this, I’m going to look like a Vogue intern who got lost on the way to Coachella.”
“I know but it’ll be fun to watch.” She grinned again. “What do you say? We have some catching up to do.”
I cut a glance to Rylyn still fussing with a vase and clearly listening. I thought of the scrap of paper in my pocket. My grimoire outing with Owen tomorrow. The possibility of Sunday dinner with his parents.
And it was all so overwhelming.
Halle was right. I needed a distraction. I needed some fun. I needed to blow off steam.
“All right. We close up in an hour. I’ll meet you there.”
“That’s perfect! See you there.”
And then Halle was heading out of the shop before I had a chance to change my mind.
I quickly busied myself with the last receipts of the day, but Rylyn was watching me intently. Finally, I looked up.
“What?”
The girl smirked. “Neon Cowboy?”
“What about it?”
She shrugged, giving me a once-over. “Nothing. I wouldn’t have figured you for a honky-tonk.”
I laughed. Perhaps not since I’d returned home with a Manhattan wardrobe. But maybe, since I was here to stay, it was time to embrace that small town girl again.
After closing the flower shop, I returned home to change.
I couldn’t wear my big city clothes—as Halle put it—to Neon Cowboy. I’d stick out like a Vegas showgirl at a church potluck. I opted for a faded pair of jeans, a loose-fitting top with flowing sleeves, and my worn sneakers.
Before I left town, I’d donated all my boots because I swore I was never coming back and wouldn’t need them.
The universe, clearly, decided to play trickster.
I tucked the scrap of paper I found in my wallet for safekeeping. Seemed like the best place for it and not lying around at the house.
I drove my aunt’s oversized Cadillac to the outskirts of town where the weathered sign for Neon Cowboy flickered in red and blue—what else?
—neon. The parking lot was already full of muddy pickup trucks and dusty SUVs.
The music thumped through the walls and for a moment, I sat staring at the aging exterior that hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw it.
Inside, I knew the floor was littered with peanut shells.
The bar would be crowded with the locals and regulars laughing and drinking cheap beer on a Friday night.
In the back, the rattle of balls as someone racked them and then the crack as they broke.
The dancefloor was nothing but a small square hardwood floor covered in sawdust for the best boot scootin’.
And the old jukebox in the corner hummed between songs—country, rock, or whatever someone felt like paying for—the glow casting lazy shadows along the walls and floor.
It was old. Not fancy.
But familiar.
The kind of place where everyone knew your name, your face, your business. And nobody cared as long as you bought the next round.
I smiled, pushed open the car door and stepped out into the balmy summer night.
When I heard my name and looked up. There, walking across the gravel parking lot, was Halle. Waving like she was ten miles away instead of ten feet.
“You showed up!”
Golden hair hung in lazy waves over her shoulders. Green eyes sparkled with life and mirth underneath her straw cowboy hat. Her off-the-shoulder boho sundress was paired with a pair of worn cowboy boots and accessorized with a wide belt, a fringe bag, and silver jewelry.
For a moment, I stopped cold as I gaped at my friend. This was a look featured in fashion magazines. A look that women tried to recreate in the city. A look that cost thousands in SoHo. While here was Halle doing it in her effortless way and it probably cost less than a hundred bucks.
If I still worked at the magazine, I would absolutely insist on a spread of boho cowgirl chic.
“I made it,” I said.
“Good! Tonight is about nothing but fun.” She hooked her arm in mine and together we entered.
The music was loud. The air was stale. The beer was flowing. The laughter was boisterous. And for a moment, I soaked it all in and let it thrum through me. This was home. This was right.
Halle led me through the bar to the back with the pool tables. I hadn’t played in so long, I was sure I was rusty. But my heart was thumping with George Strait and for the first time since I arrived in Hickory Hollow, I felt something akin to joy.
The second we made it to the back with the pool tables, I stopped short.
There, with a sweating bottle of beer in one hand and a pool cue in the other… was Owen.
My pulse did something stupid. Of course he’d be here. Of course my hometown would pick tonight to mess with me.
Halle stopped next to me following my line of vision.
“Well, look at that. Don’t tell me this town doesn’t love a set up. Let’s go over!” She started to drag me toward them.
But my feet refused to move. “No, Halle. We should go.”
“What? And miss out on all the fun? We can all shoot pool together. Have a few laughs. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Halle gave me another tug and practically dragged me into the back with the pool tables, right toward Owen and his mysterious friend.
As we approached, he caught sight of me. His eyes widened in surprise and then he smiled which made my insides turn to jelly.
Halle came to a halt next to the pool table. “Well, look who it is. Owen McAllister and Luke Bennett.”
Luke Bennett. Of course. Quarterback star who was destined for a Heisman. Yet here he was still in Hickory Hollow.
“Ladies,” Luke said with a tip of his hat.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off Owen. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled to his elbows, the top buttons undone. Like he’d just got off work and was trying to reset after a long week.
“You remember Piper, don’t you, Luke?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at me, showing off deep dimples that were still killer even all these years later. “Welcome back, Piper.”
“Ma’am?” I said with a laugh. “That makes me feel old.”
Halle, being the sociable one, said, “How about I buy us a round? Luke, come with me.”
She grabbed him by the arm, not giving him a chance to say no, and dragged him toward the bar, leaving me alone with Owen.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.
“I didn’t expect to be here,” I said with a grin. “But Halle… well…”
He chuckled. “She talked you into it.”
I glanced over at the bar to see Halle leaning back on her elbows talking to Luke and laughing at something he said. He was leaned in close. Intimate. Friendly.
“She did.”
He handed me the pool cue. “How about a game of 8-Ball?”
“Sure.” I couldn’t refuse.
Because the last time I played a game of pool with Owen was when we were still in high school and I was still competing.
I intended to compete again. Old habits and all.
He took a swig of his beer and then set it aside to re-rack the table. I watched him. The way he methodically slipped the balls within the rack, ordering them precisely like it was something he’d done all his life.
“We used to play pool,” I said before I could stop the words.
Still bent over the table, he looked up at me, light glinting in his soft gray eyes. “We did.”
But what I didn’t say was we used to get Owen’s older brother, Colt, to buy us beers while we played. Back then, I thought we were being nothing but rebellious teenagers. Colt kept an eye on us and let us drink while we shot pool and tried to outdo each other.
After he graduated high school, Colt disappeared out of Hickory Hollow.
“Do you ever hear from Colt?” I asked.
His expression changed. Like it was a sore subject he didn’t want to talk about.
He shrugged. “Not as much as Dad would like.”
I took that to mean he didn’t visit on holidays.
Interesting.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about me and Owen back then. I competed against him then because I wanted his attention. I wanted him to think I was one of the cool kids who could drink and play pool.
And back then, he never ever acted like he had an interest in me.
Back then, all the girls chased him and Gretchen, AP Chem genius, managed to catch him.
“You always beat me,” I added, thinking about our previous games.
“You always wanted to beat me.” He finished racking and reached for another cue. “Do you want to break?”
“I’d love to.” Even as I said it, my heart fluttered.
My palms broke into a sweat as I lined up the cue ball and took my stance. Before I could shoot, though, he leaned down close enough to brush against me.
“Let’s see what you got, Wakefield,” he murmured, his breath sliding warm over my ear.
My brain promptly forgot how to operate my limbs. He was trying to distract me, and it worked.
I glanced up. He grinned as he stood straight, clearly proud of himself.
“You’ll pay for that,” I said.
I regained my focus and smacked the cue ball with all I had, then watched the balls scatter across the table. I sank two solids right off the bat. I cut him a smug glance.
“I still got it,” I said.
“We’ll see about that,” he said on a laugh.
By then, Halle and Luke were back, each carrying two beers. She handed one to me.
“I propose a toast!” Halle announced, holding her bottle over the pool table. “To old friends and good times.” She looked right at me as she said it.
“Hear, hear!” Luke added.
But Owen never took his gaze off me as we clinked bottle necks. I took a swig of the cheap, cold beer. Nothing ever tasted so good.
Then I took my next shot and missed.
“Are we playing pairs?” Halle asked.
“Yes, and we’re solids,” I said to her.
Halle took up a pool cue, handed it to Luke. Then grabbed one for herself. Owen leaned down to the table, his focus intense as he lined up. He sank two more balls with one shot. Then stood straight, grinning at me as though he won the lottery.
“How’s that?”
“Lucky shot, that’s all,” I said with a laugh. “Bet you can’t get another one.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
He leaned down, lined up with the cue ball… and CRACK. He sank his third.
“You lose, Wakefield,” he said with a laugh.
“You sink another, McAllister, and I’ll buy you another beer,” I said.
He laughed. “You’re on.”
“But—” I added. “You gotta call this one.”
He lifted a brow, trying desperately to hide his smile. “All right then. Twelve ball in the left corner pocket.”
“Tough shot. You’ll never make it,” Luke said, heckling him.
And as I looked up at him, I saw he had his arm slung over Halle’s shoulders. Casual. Comfortable. Like he’d been doing it all his life.
I blinked. Halle grinned.
Halle—head cheerleader and Luke—star quarterback.
Just like old times.
And it felt good to be home.
“We’ll see about that,” Owen said as he leaned down to the table.
His gaze was intense as he lined up with the cue ball. Then took his shot. The twelve ball smacked against the eight and missed the pocket by a long shot.
“Oh, too bad, McAllister. You owe me a beer,” I said with a grin.
He moved to stand next to me. “You’re up, Halle.”
She untangled herself from Luke’s arm and handed him her beer. “Get ready to weep, boys. I’m going to sink the rest.”
Halle lined up but all I was focused on was how close Owen was standing to me. How I felt his body heat. Smelled that faint twinge of cologne I scented in his truck. And how I wanted him to sling his arm over my shoulders.
Tonight, I wasn’t a Guardian. I wasn’t an heiress. I wasn’t a walking target.
I was a girl in her hometown, shooting pool and drinking cheap beer with people who still knew her name.
And for the first time since I’d come back, that felt like enough.