Chapter 9
Three weeks later, Tabitha was back in Mount Laurel.
This time to stay.
Pausing outside The Cockeyed Chameleon, she fluffed her hair, took a deep breath, then stepped inside. The bar was crowded and loud with people laughing and talking, the sharp crack of pool balls in the corner, the driving beat of “Thunderstruck” playing over the speakers.
As she made her way to the bar, she scanned the crowd, but she didn’t see Miles.
Not that she’d really believed he’d be there, but she had changed out of the comfortable joggers, baggy t-shirt and sneakers she’d worn on her drive from Philly into a wide-necked, white bodysuit, her favorite high waisted jeans and strappy sandals. And she’d curled her hair, leaving it to hang loose around her shoulders, put on blush, mascara and a soft mauve lipstick.
Just in case.
She slid onto an empty stool at the far end of the bar next to a pretty, twenty-something blonde chatting up a handsome Black man with a shy smile.
“Hey,” Hayden said with a grin from behind the bar where she was pulling a beer. “You’re back.”
Tabitha smiled. “I’m back.”
Hayden added the beer to four other full glasses. Gathered them together and picked them up. “I’ll be right with you.”
“No hurry.”
Hayden walked away and Tabitha turned halfway in her seat. Scanned the room again.
Still no Miles.
Probably for the best. She’d see him again soon enough, and when she did, she’d have plenty of explaining to do, such as why she lied to him that night about just passing through town, her sneaking off the next morning without a goodbye and, of course, that ugly scene with his younger sister outside his house.
Not her finest hour.
“Get you something?”
At the growled words, she whirled back to the bar and blinked at the gorgeous man scowling at her. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wore jeans and a black T-shirt that clung to the hard planes of his chest, had perfectly tousled short dark blond hair, bright green eyes, and a face chiseled by the gods. His biceps were well-defined, his stomach flat, and his arms and hands covered in tattoos.
He looked hard. Angry.
Dangerous.
Enticing in a only my love can save him way.
He was exactly the type of guy she used to go for, a long, long time ago.
Those days were done. She’d never go back to believing there was some deep, hidden well of kindness, charm, and emotional vulnerability in dark, brooding men.
Sometimes, a duck was just a duck.
And more often than not, an asshole was just an asshole.
“Diet Coke, please.”
The bartender slapped a napkin onto the bar in front of her, scooped ice into a glass, then filled it with soda. He set it on the napkin with a thump as Hayden rounded the bar.
Crossing his arms, he jerked his chin in the direction of the soda. “Ten dollars.”
“Since when is a pop ten bucks here?” Hayden asked as she joined him.
“Since I enacted a ten-dollar minimum to sit at the bar.”
“Uh huh.” Hayden poured two shots of Jack Daniel’s, then set them on a serving tray. “And when did this stupid rule go into effect?”
“Now.”
Hayden shook her head. “I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice. You’re fired.”
The guy didn’t so much as blink. “You can’t fire me.”
“Seeing as how I’m manager of this fine establishment, it seems I can. I’ve had enough of your grumpy ass scaring off customers and generally ruining everyone’s night.” She waved him away as a young, curvy waitress with chin length, light brown hair, arms and legs covered in tattoos—including a lotus flower on her neck—and a nose ring came behind the bar. “Off you go, now. Shoo.”
“She’s right,” the waitress told him as she rang up a tab. “Your vibe is seriously hostile tonight.”
A muscle in the man’s jaw ticked. “You two can’t handle this crowd alone.”
Hayden and the waitress shared a oh, what a silly, tatted up man he is look. “The shots are for table twelve,” Hayden told the waitress who nodded, gave the man a finger wave goodbye, then picked up the tray and walked away.
Hayden sauntered over to a set of double swinging doors at the far end of the bar. Pushed the right one open. “Reed!”
A moment later, a good-looking kid around nineteen or twenty, his golden hair shaved close on the sides and back, the top long and up in a bun, tattoos on his arms, stepped through the left side. “Yeah?”
“You’re helping me behind the bar. Patton has to go home,” she continued, this time looking at the other man. “To his new wife.”
The kid looked between Hayden and the fuming man as they stared each other down, shrugged, then went to the far end of the bar and took an order.
After a moment, Patton stormed off. Tabitha watched him round the bar and stomp his way through the crowd, but he didn’t leave. He turned down the hallway.
Hayden sighed, her frown turning thoughtful. Then she gave a slight shake of her head and turned to Tabitha with a rueful grin. “Sorry about that.”
“I don’t think he left.”
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t. He’s probably in the office out back pouting. Or ripping the furniture to shreds with his teeth.”
“Should you call the police? Have him escorted from the premises?”
“Patton won’t hurt anyone. And I can’t, technically, kick him out since he owns this place.”
“You just fired your boss?”
“I fire him at least three times a week. It never seems to stick.” She nodded at an older gentleman holding up his empty bottle of Bud Light and two fingers. “So, what brings you back to our little part of the world? Just passing through again?”
“Actually,” she said as Hayden opened the two bottles of beer, “I’m moving here.”
“Yeah?” She handed the bottles to the man. Took his empty one and the cash he handed her. Grinned and thanked him when he told her to keep the change. “In that case, welcome to Mount Laurel.” She picked up several empty bottles. “Guess you found something you liked during your last visit here.”
If the wink Hayden sent her wasn’t clue enough that she was talking about Miles, the clear innuendo in her tone sure was.
“There are plenty of things I like about Mount Laurel. This bar for one. And I’ll like it even more if the burgers are as good as I’ve heard. Especially since I didn’t get a chance to try one the last time.”
“Well, you were awfully busy,” Hayden said, clearly remembering witnessing Tabitha race out of the bar that night after Miles. “And they’re better than what you’ve heard. Can I get you one?”
“Please. Medium rare with the works. And a side of fries.”
“You got it,” Hayden said before walking away to take another customer’s order.
While waiting for her food, Tabitha sipped her drink, scrolled her social media feeds on her phone, and politely, but quickly and firmly, shut down each of the three guys who approached her during that time and offered to buy her a drink.
She wasn’t looking for a hookup, a future date, or a relationship.
And it had nothing to do with a certain dark-haired cop who still starred in all her fantasies.
The waitress delivered her food and Tabitha set her phone down, sanitized her hands, then cut her burger in half and divided her fries into two equal piles before digging in.
The manager at the hotel was right. The burger was delicious. She chatted with Hayden and introduced herself to the waitress—Greer—while she ate.
When she was done, she pulled out her credit card to pay, but Hayden waved it away. “On the house.”
“I’m not sure your boss is going to like that.”
“It was his idea. Or it will be, once he realizes what a dick he was.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Positive. Consider it a welcome to town, from The Cockeyed Chameleon to you. And if there’s anything you need, let me know and I’ll see if I can hook you up.”
“Thank you,” she said, putting her card away and pulling out some cash, tucking the bills under the edge of her glass for a tip. “There is something you might be able to help me with. The movers I hired to load my stuff and drive the rental truck here had a job booked in North Carolina in the morning, so they took off. But I don’t get the keys to my new apartment until tomorrow. Do you know of anyone I could hire to unload the truck?”
“Maybe. Hey, Reed,” she called to the young man at the other end of the bar. “This is Tabitha,” Hayden told him when he joined her. “She wants to know if you’re interested in making a few bucks.”
He slowly raised his eyebrows, the tip of his tongue touching his upper lip as he gave her a slow, up/down look before his lips curved in a cocky grin. “What do you have in mind?” he asked with so much innuendo, you’d have to be an idiot not to get his meaning.
She probably should be horrified that this man-child thought she was interested in him sexually, but when she and Hayden exchanged a look, they both burst out laughing.
The kid, Reed, scowled, looking so put out and embarrassed, they laughed even harder.
“Isn’t he adorable?” Hayden slung her arm around his shoulder. “Isn’t he just the cutest thing ever with his big boy tattoos, this patchy stuff on his baby cheeked face” —she patted his cheek where he did, indeed, have a very patchy, golden beard— “and his delusions of grandeur?”
“Get off,” he muttered, shrugging her away, but there was no heat in his tone. “You’re killing my game.”
“His game,” Hayden howled, laughing so hard, she had to bend over to catch her breath. “You think you have a chance with her?” she asked, gesturing to Tabitha, then patting his chest. “You really need to stick with your own age bracket. His game,” she repeated as if to herself, still chuckling. “Oh, kid, some days you truly kill me.”
His scowl made him look very much the badass, but he couldn’t hide the affection in his eyes as he glanced at Hayden. Or the blush staining those scruff-covered baby cheeks
“I need help moving my stuff into my new apartment,” Tabitha said, taking pity on him. “I can handle most of it on my own, but I’ll need help with the bigger items like the couch and bed and dresser.”
He eyed her, his blue eyes assessing, something in his gaze familiar. Unsettling.
She shook that thought off. He was just wary. Wondering if she had an angle he was missing.
One she could use to take advantage of him.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.” She was picking up the apartment key from the downstairs tenant. “Nine.”
He lifted his chin slightly. “How much?”
She didn’t want to take advantage of him, but she was also on a tight budget, what with all those pesky student loans she now had to repay.
But she really, really didn’t want to try to haul her furniture up to her second-floor apartment by herself.
“Two hundred dollars.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Great.” She pulled a sticky note from her purse, wrote her name, new address, and phone number on it then handed it to him with a smile. “I’ll see you at nine.”
She waved goodbye to Hayden, picked up the takeout box, and slid off the stool. Was halfway across the bar when she realized she was smiling. That she felt… not hopeful, exactly. More… optimistic. About her life. Her future.
It was a rare occurrence for her, that optimism.
And for most of her life, a fleeting one.
She used to think that was what made it so special. The impermanence of it.
But this time? This time, she was going to hold onto it.
For as long as she could.