Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kylie
Walking into Bilbee’s Tavern was like turning back time.
As she walked in, the floorboards groaned like she was inconveniencing them with her presence.
Mismatched wooden chairs were pulled up to scarred-wood tables, nothing matching.
An enormous bar gleamed in the low light, a wall of spirits begging to be tasted.
Each bottle seemed to have its own history, Kylie nearly swooning as she took in the enormity of it all.
Two wood stoves pumped out plenty of heat, but as she took more steps inside, she realized it was erratic. One spot was blazing, the next – frigid.
Nothing was consistent, which suited her state of mind just fine.
For the last two days, she’d wrestled with her conscience, prepared for her December 28 interview, and put the finishing touches on Christmas plans.
Texts and the larger family Zoom call seemed to suffice, Kylie’s surprise at her mother’s lack of a request for a private phone call filling her with mixed emotions.
Now here she was, Luke’s surprise invitation a few hours ago making her happy.
Come join me and the gang at Bilbee’s, his text had said. Mom is watching Harriet for me. Let’s have fun.
Fun. Remember fun, Kylie? she told herself. You had it before Perry.
You can have it again.
Kylie took a deep inhale through her nose, the familiar scent of woodsmoke and sour beer surprising her. Deep in her memory somewhere, the scent was imprinted in her. Years of coming here with her parents, and especially her father, were all still stored away in memory.
Not much had changed, other than the electronics, big, flat screen televisions perched high over the bar, an array of five of them on different sports channels, the volume turned low but captions on.
Bilbee’s was old, the tavern created in 1788, though the building was even older, the porch a bit crooked, the whole place drafty but warmed by wood stoves that were always on in winter.
“Kylie?” Rider Bilbee looked like an older, balder, more tattooed version of his teen self, but she recognized him instantly.
“Rider! How are you?” Christmas music floated through the bar, an instrumental she’d heard a thousand times but couldn’t name.
His eyes jumped to a spot over her shoulder, face changing slightly, suddenly on guard. “I’m good. How about you?”
Instinct made her want to look behind her, but something in her said she didn’t need to.
Yet.
“Back in my hometown, you know? Nothing’s changed here, except for the wall of televisions.”
He chuckled through his nose. “Plenty’s changed, but plenty’s stayed the same. Heard you moved to New York City and came back here because you were with Prissy.”
“Prissy?”
“That’s what we call Perry Nordicbeth.”
Kylie nearly choked on her surprise, laughing so hard she had to grab the back of a chair. “Prissy?”
“He’s a jerk. Luke’s better. And speaking of,” Rider said, eyes scanning the room, clearly watching for some kind of danger Kylie didn’t see. “Luke and the rest of ‘em are back by the pool table.”
“The rest of them?”
“You’ll see. Quite a crowd. Before you go back, what can I get you?”
“A Shirley Tem – ” The words died out in her mouth as Rider caught her eye and smiled, instantly going from grumpy biker to friendly bartender as the old familiar drink from her childhood came out of her from muscle memory.
“You’re over twenty-one, you know. You can drink the devil’s juice now,” he mock whispered.
That made her laugh even harder. “How about a lemon drop martini?”
“Not a beer drinker?”
“I’ll drink it if I’m in the mood. Tonight I want something sweeter.”
“So does Luke.”
As Rider said the words, Kylie felt a hand on her hip, possessive and stark.
“Hey there,” Luke murmured in her ear, the affectionate gesture earning looks from everyone in the room.
Kylie imagined them all calculating their dates in the betting pool.
“We’re about to get teased,” she whispered back.
“It wouldn’t be our hometown if we didn’t.”
Our hometown.
Kylie hadn’t felt at home like this in… fifteen years. She was, of course, literally home right now, but this was more than location.
This was belonging.
Rider’s easy talk with her. The familiarity of the tavern. How people gave her quick nods of recognition, or smiles and waves. It was all so easy.
And with Luke’s arms around her, it was even easier.
“We’re really doing this?” she said softly.
“Doing what?”
“Being open in public?”
As she turned to look at him, their eyes locked, Kylie suddenly awash in emotion. Every part of Bilbee’s receded, the woodsmoke scent fading, the creak of floorboards as people walked muting, the shouts of joy around the dart board turning to a simple hum as Luke took her hands in his and grinned.
“We are,” he said as Rider appeared with her drink, holding it aloft.
His mouth twisted with disapproval.
“Not yet. Hold out for a while,” he replied as Kylie took the drink from him, the first sip delicious.
Luke sighed, then gave Kylie a quick kiss on the lips as she carefully held the cocktail, half her mind focused on not spilling, the rest of her enjoying the kiss.
“So much for the Don’t Bang Your Nanny clause,” said a gravelly voice from behind them, though the tone was playful.
“Darren,” Luke said in a tone of warning.
Kylie raced to pattern match the face and the name. The man standing behind them was about ten years older than Luke, with a long chin and a mouth that didn’t seem to smile often, though keen, sharp eyes spoke to intelligence.
“I’m Darren Chassi,” he said directly to Kylie, weathered hand extended. “You probably don’t remember me. I was off at college and veterinary school when you lived here.”
“I feel like I’ve heard of you. Mel was my horse riding instructor at camp.”
“Yep. My wife – er, ex-wife.”
Luke’s eyebrow shot up at the mistake.
“Yes! Mel. Nice to meet you, Darren. Or, meet you again.” She giggled like a little girl. “It’s very disconcerting to be here,” she confessed. “I used to come in here with my dad. I feel like I’m frozen in time.”
“You’re not,” Luke said, eyeing her appreciatively. “But I can understand the feeling.”
“Can you? You stayed here.”
“Just because I haven’t experienced something doesn’t mean I can’t empathize with it.”
Luke motioned for her to follow him, Darren staying at the counter to chat with Rider.
Winding between tables, Luke was greeted by every single person, though she noticed he did a double take to the right.
A big guy in a t-shirt that stretched across impossibly-large biceps was playing pool in a corner, tattoos covering both arms, his head shaved bald.
Leaning over a pool table, he was taking a shot, one eye closed, the expression on his face distilled down to a single word:
Mean.
Kylie had to look away, because her drink would slosh, so she took a sip instead, watching Luke’s back.
And backside.
It was a far better view.
A lively group was Luke’s target, Kylie instantly recognizing Colleen, Kell, Rachel, and –
“Is that Moore Mottin?” she gasped.
“It is.”
“He looks so mature!”
“You mean old? You realize we’re three days apart,” he groused.
“No, I mean… is he wearing a suit?”
“Yep. He runs the jewelry store, remember? Took over from his dad a few years ago.”
“Right.”
“Got off work and came straight here.”
“And that’s Jake! From the handyman family.”
“Jake Forsythe. Yep.”
“Does his family still run Love You Handy Jobs?”
“Sure do.”
Kylie started snickering. Luke stopped in his tracks and turned around, eyebrows up, as if he knew exactly what she was about to ask.
“And do kids still prank them by stealing the Y off the sign?”
“Not only do they still do it, now there’s a secret teen ritual where they have to steal it and take a picture for social media. Most of them post on Snapchat now so they don’t get caught.”
“Why on earth don’t the Forsythes change the name of the company? I’d imagine the Love Committee goes nuts every time there’s a picture of that sign floating around.”
“Why do people resist change, Kylie? If I could figure out the answer to that, I wouldn’t be a cop.”
“What would you be if you weren’t a police officer?”
“That’s a very philosophical conversation for a fun night out at a tavern. Let me get more drinks in me before tackling it.” He kissed her forehead and turned around.
Darren had joined them, and Jake was standing, a puzzled look on his face as he peered at Kylie.
“I know you.”
“You probably bet on her,” Luke growled.
“No, I mean… didn’t you babysit me?” Jake was about five years younger than the rest of them. A flood of surprise shot through her, but then she realized he was right.
“Yes! Your mom had me watch you while she sang in the community choir! I forgot about that.”
Jake let out a low whistle as he sized her up, Kylie starting to get embarrassed in the moment. “I didn’t. You were my first crush, Kylie.”
Jake Forsythe was built like Kell, big and broad, with muscle that came from working with his body for a living.
A natural redhead, his hair had deepened to a rich auburn, his neatly-trimmed beard a shade darker.
Hair long and around his collar, he looked like he could easily live in an artist’s colony in a gentrifying warehouse district in New York or Boston, or work as a lumberjack in the woods.
“I’m sure I wasn’t your last,” Kylie said diplomatically, as Luke wrapped his arm around her waist and gave Jake a very clear signal to back off.
A single nod from Jake to Luke was enough to clarify matters.
Platters of appetizers scattered around the big table, it was clear everyone had been here a while. Rachel scooted over to make room for her.
“Sit!” she urged, Kylie finding a spot, Luke creating a second one by giving Kell a nudge. Soon, they were seated at the table, Kylie sipping her drink, taking it all in.
It was like everyone from her childhood grew up and decided to have a reunion, except this was daily life.
Weird.
Weird, and so good.