Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Violet
Three months ago…
Have you come to your senses yet?
Come on, it’s just a house.
Seriously, what do you want that you don’t already have?
Everyone says you must’ve gone nuts.
The last text from my now ex-boyfriend slapped me to my senses. Willis had given me a lot, and for too many years, I didn’t realize he gave me only enough to keep me hanging on. He probably nodded along when the question of my good sense came up with his family or his cultured friends.
I took a drink of the…I peered at my glass of craft beer. The crowd at the local brewery, Reservoir Barrel, maintained a constant din around me with the oc casional burst of laughter. I didn’t know anyone. Or maybe I did, and I didn’t recognize them from when I was in elementary school.
Why was I here?
Because the place was irresistible. And it was away from my happy-as-a-clam littlest sister and her new, handsome husband. I loved them, and I couldn’t be more thrilled for them, but when I was fresh off a breakup of a stagnant relationship, being surrounded by everything I had wanted and didn’t get only made me more frantic about what really was in my future.
Here, I could get lost in the ambiance. I was surrounded by large windows, arching ceilings, and giant silver fermenting tanks of beer. Reservoir Barrel used to be a train foundry and repair shop. The area by the bar was where the train parts were made. On the other side, according to the bartender who’d worked here for a few years, was where the locomotives were housed for repairs.
The brewery was cool as hell and somehow soothing on my nerves.
“Isla around?” a deep voice asked from next to me.
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. He leaned on the bar, his profile sharp. In a place where a lot of burly men frequented, he stood out. When I’d chatted with the server about the heavily male clientele, she said they got workers from the nearby refinery, gasification plant, and the coal mine. Coal Haven was an energy-rich area, but blue-collar men weren’t the only customers.
Cowboy boots were a popular footwear choice. No surprise with the sweeping ranches and farms canvassing the surrounding area. Men and women were either dressed casually or looked like they jumped off a horse and strode in.
Willis would hate this place. My ex didn’t do rugged. The trips to my parents’ house in Billings had taxed him. He loved California too much to be comfortable anywhere else. And frankly, after a couple of trips to Montana with him, I was sick of hearing how nothing lived up to California.
“Isla doesn’t tend bar much anymore,” the girl said. She rested a hand on her hip and looked him up and down.
What’d she see? Without staring, I could only tell that he was a big guy. He loomed over me, and he wasn’t even trying. His shoulders were wide, and his head was shaved. He should be intimidating, but my increased heart rate wasn’t because I wanted to hop away like a terrified bunny. Nor was it from the beer. Heat curled through me, sinking further down, waking a long, dormant part of me that had gone unsatisfied for too long. That part of me liked this guy being close enough for me to smell his fresh linen scent.
Willis’s cologne could get cloying. I could still smell it on my luggage. The items stored at my parents’ should air out in the corner of the garage we’d stuffed them in.
The bartender tapped her fingers against her hip. “Who should I tell her is looking for her?”
“I’ll catch her later,” the guy said. “She mentioned she might stop in.”
“You missed her by an hour.” The bartender gave him an apologetic smile. “I can give her a call? She or her husband, McCoy, might be able to swing by.”
“She’s got my number.” The guy slid onto a stool next to me and bumped my hip. “Sorry.”
He glanced over, and his gaze traveled down my side to where my hip flared out, the part he’d nudged when sitting.
“No problem.” Oh, god. Did I sound breathless?
He was…a man . So was Willis, but my ex didn’t have the presence of this guy. My pulse fluttered. I’d only drank half my glass of beer, but the warmth flushing me was like I was on my fourth.
He lifted his amber gaze to mine. Interest swirled in his eyes, and my breathing stalled, but he only nodded. When he shifted his attention off me, I could pull in air.
Had he checked me out? Was that interest for me or remnants from talking to the pretty young bartender?
“What can I getcha?” the bartender asked him.
He scanned the row of taps across from us. “Can I get a Reservoir Harvest? Tall.”
“Coming right up.” She looked at me. “Can I get you another?”
“No, thanks.” I’d love to order a tall, just like the sexy guy seated next to me. Even more, I’d love to order a flight and try different flavors, but I was driving. One drink was my limit, but I liked the atmosphere. The beer was cold, and the crowd was accepting. I never felt this way when Willis dragged me to his preferred establishments. Only polos and sport coats were found in those places.
When she turned to fill his order, the man propped his elbows on the counter and glanced at me.
Another flash of heat hit me. Did he give me another once-over? I wore a striped violet and cream knit sweater and jeans, and I’d kept my hair in its curly, untamed state. I wasn’t dressed to attract. I wasn’t polished. I used to joke that if I could, I’d wear pajamas to work every day. Willis would’ve had a coronary. He already thought what I did for a living was uncouth .
Resentment stoked hotter. I took a long pull of my drink. The night out was having its intended effect. I had done the right thing breaking up with Willis and moving back to Montana. I might just be in a rental with no real address and no job, but I’d get there.
If I ever second-guessed myself again, I’d just have to watch my sister and her husband. Lily was stupid in love with Eliot. Had a boyfriend ever looked at me with hearts in his eyes?
My heart certainly didn’t race around Willis. Had it ever? Seven years was a long time. I must’ve forgotten.
The raspberry sour played over my tongue. I made an appreciative hum.
He nodded to the girl when she slid a frothy beer in front of him before darting away to check on another customer. “If it’s that good, why don’t you order another?”
I looked around. Was he speaking to me? Men didn’t do that. I wasn’t the type of woman this guy seemed like he would be interested in. Blatantly sexual. Flirty. Confident in how men perceived them. “Me?”
He lifted a brow as if to ask who else? The stunning whiskey color of his hazel eyes pierced right through me. When his attention was on a person, they were captivated. At least I was.
“Yeah. You.” He took a drink. “You’re chugging it like it’s ambrosia.”
“It is.” I tapped the side. “It’s got raspberry in it. Tart Barrel is the name.”
Humor lit his eyes. “Mine’s got pumpkins.”
“I thought about trying that one, but I’m a sucker for sours.”
He slid the glass over. “Have a taste. ”
The responsible woman in me said absolutely not. He could’ve spiked it. He might see me as an easy target. My ex said I was a simple girl who could use some complexity.
Right now, I wanted to be compliant. I took a tentative drink. An ice-cold, sweet beer with only a hint of a fruity tang flowed over my tongue. “Mm. That’s really good.” I licked the foamy head off my upper lip.
His gaze zeroed in on my mouth. “Yeah. It is.”
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
He held my gaze and took a long drink, his thick throat working over the swallow. He was…a lot. Overpowering. I craved more.
“Yeah, it’s good,” he said, wiping his mouth with a big hand.
I slid my glass over. “Try it.”
He gave me a sidelong look. “I used to tell my soldiers not to drink out of something they didn’t open themselves and haven’t had control of all night.”
I sputtered. “You offered me your mug.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I know I’m trustworthy.”
I laughed, my head dropping back. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He took a drink out of my glass and considered the liquid inside. “Not my taste, but it fits you.”
Defensiveness rose inside me. Did he think I’d pick a cheap beer? A weak one? No beer had been quality enough for my ex. “How?”
“Too trusting.”
Surprise and relief prompted a laugh. How little had I been laughing the last few weeks? The last seven years? I swiveled toward him just a little. “So? Army? ”
He took another drink, from his own glass this time, and smacked his lips. “Retired.”
I could see it. He had the gruffness, an edge, that I didn’t normally see in others. Military folks weren’t the people my ex had wanted to hang out with. “What’s your name, soldier?”
Did that come out of my mouth? I didn’t flirt.
He studied me for a moment. “You from here?” he asked.
Had I overstepped by asking for his name? Was I reading our exchange incorrectly? I floundered in the dating world. Was that why I had tolerated Willis so long?
Regardless, I wanted the conversation to keep going. I wasn’t from Coal Haven anymore, but I also didn’t know where I was from. My future employment would determine that. “Just passing through.”
His eyes continued to glitter, but he looked around. “Evan,” he finally said.
His hesitance with his name was almost amusing. “You sure?”
“You’ll take my drink, but you won’t trust me about my name?”
“You didn’t close up when you offered me your drink.”
A gruff laugh left him. “You?”
“Me what?”
“You got a name?”
So his name was a touchy subject. Fair enough. I didn’t want to run into any kids I used to play with on the playground. Then we’d have to catch up, and I’d have to tell them what I’d done with my life. I was tired of faking how much my career didn’t suck the life out of me.
“I do have a name.” I rested my chin in my hand. “My sisters and I are all named after flowers. Want to take any guesses?”
He turned toward me, and our legs fully intertwined. He studied my eyes, then lazily lowered his gaze, caressing it over my mouth, down my neck to my sweater, then to the juncture of my thighs.
My breath caught. I liked his attention there. He was forward in the most discreet way.
“Violet.”
I jerked when he got my name right. “How’d you know?”
Should I be worried? Was he stalking me?
Would I mind if he was? The idea of a guy who knew what he wanted, and that was me, sounded nice at this point in my life.
He dragged a fingertip over my sleeve. “The lines on this. And your eyes. They’re violet.”
“My eyes are blue.”
“Not right now.”
He said it so matter-of-factly I would’ve believed everyone had been wrong my entire life, that my eyes were, in fact, not blue but violet. Like my name. I suddenly wanted this man’s insight on everything. I wanted to know if he wanted me. I wanted to know if that desire was real and what else he was so confident about. I didn’t want to waste my time talking and learn later that he was only bored and I was convenient. Or rather, not convenient enough.
I really had to know if the way this man made me feel was worth it. I needed him to help me confirm that I hadn’t made an epic mistake leaving a seven-year relationship because I was unfulfilled.
I finished the beer I’d been nursing since I’d arrived. “Evan, I’m going back to my motel room at the little place on the edge of town.”
Disappointment crossed his expression, and he nodded.
I slid off my stool. “If you’d like to do more than talk about beer and names, you can stop by. Room five.”
Surprise flashed through his gaze, but I spun. I couldn’t listen to a rejection. I’d go to my room and wait. If I fell asleep and no one knocked on my door, then maybe I should return to my senses and fly back to California.
My nerves scraped over my skin as I left the brewery. The drive to town only took minutes before I was pulling into the parking spot in front of the door to my room. Inside, I rubbed my sweaty palms up and down my jeans.
This was ridiculous. I wasn’t having a one-night stand with some stranger, was I?
I didn’t do that. I was responsible. I was the second oldest of six and the oldest girl. I was a role model. I was sensible, dammit.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep inhale. No. He wouldn’t come. I was being impulsive. I hadn’t thought out my breakup. I walked away from a man and a career I should love. I could still get them both back. Maybe not the job, but there were a hell of a lot more choices to be a chemist in California than Billings or North Dakota. They weren’t in the specialty I was interested in, but I couldn’t have it all.
I licked my dry lips. Heat seared the backs of my eyes. Had I been wrong to leave?
Tomorrow, should I return to Willis?
There was a knock at the door.