Flare Up

by Shannon Stacey

  Chapter Seven

  Wren sipped her vodka and soda, straining to hear the conversation from the other side of the small, round table they’d crowded around. The bar wasn’t very big—more of an upscale cocktail lounge, really—and they kept the music low, but the acoustics weren’t great and the more people around them drank, the louder they talked.

  She and Cait had chosen to take a Lyft over together, and when they arrived, she’d been greeted with varying degrees of warmth. Everybody was nice enough, of course, but she was aware that Ashley, in particular, was a little cool.

  It was a well-deserved reminder that everybody at the table was Team Grant. She knew none of them would be here at all if he wasn’t okay with it, but they also weren’t going to magically forget what she’d done.

  She wished Olivia was here. She’d only met her once—when Derek brought her to Aidan and Lydia’s Labor Day barbecue—but she’d liked her. She was quiet, like Wren, though not shy.

  Cait’s knee bumped hers under the table in a way that had to be deliberate. When Wren looked up from her drink, Cait gave her a questioning glance so she smiled and tried to look like she was having fun.

  Cait leaned close. “Do you want to leave?”

  Apparently she wasn’t a great actress. “No, I’m good.”

  The exchange got the attention of the other women, though. They’d been talking about baby stuff, since the news had broken that Lydia and Jamie were both expecting, and Wren had offered her congratulations, but she didn’t have a lot beyond that to add. She didn’t have a lot of experience with babies.

  “How is everything at Patty’s?” Jamie asked her. “Do you have everything you need?”

  “I do. Just the bare minimum of course, but I don’t need a lot.” It was hard on her throat, talking loudly enough to be heard by everybody, but at least she wasn’t coughing at the moment. “Grant took me shopping the day after the fire and I got what I needed to be able to go to work. And, you know, brush my teeth and stuff.”

  “And stuff to shave your legs?” Ashley asked and Wren blushed when the other women giving her expectant looks made the meaning of the question sink in.

  “Well, it’s February, so I don’t really have to worry about it yet,” she said. She’d thought about Grant when she was at the store with Patty, though, and had a moment of optimism. “But I did buy a razor, just in case.”

  More laughter, and then Lydia stood. “Enough sitting around, talking. Let’s dance.”

  Cait groaned. “The dance floor is smaller than my bathroom.”

  “So we’ll dance close,” Lydia insisted. “Wren, let’s go. It’s time to have some fun.”

  Maybe heat from too many dancing bodies in a small space turned up the alcohol’s effects, but Wren had a lot more fun than she thought she would. Even though she had to stop to cough now and then, she didn’t want to sit. None of them could dance worth a damn, but they did it anyway, laughing and twirling and shaking their asses.

  When her body needed a short rest, she went to the bar and asked for a soda water with a splash of cranberry—hold the vodka. Not only was it cheaper that way, but she had too much on her plate to deal with a hangover, too. Nor did she want to stagger, drunk, through Patty’s house in the wee hours.

  She was leaning against the bar, sipping her drink, when a man approached her. He was good-looking, she supposed. Dark hair and beard, with an okay build. A little thin for her taste, but he dressed well. And he was smiling at her in a bland, nonthreatening way.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Frank.”

  “Hi.” She wasn’t giving him her name.

  “Is it your first time here?”

  She wondered if that was his standard opening line or if he spent so much time here, he recognized the regulars. “Yes, it is.”

  “Cool place. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Smiling in what she hoped was a polite, but tinged with fake regret way, she held up her glass. “I already have one, but thanks.”

  “I can buy the next one, then,”

  He was persistent. She’d give him that. “I’m here with friends, actually. But it was nice to meet you, Frank.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” It actually seemed like he wasn’t going to get pushy with her, which was a pleasant surprise. “Maybe I’ll see you around another time.”

  She just smiled and he walked away, probably to find another woman not wearing a ring on her finger.

  It wasn’t the first time a man had tried to speak to her in the last few months, but he was definitely one of the more attractive of them—both physically and in personality. Not a single one of them had piqued her interest. She’d felt nothing since the day she left Grant, and had zero interest in dating or sex.

  After Frank disappeared into the crowd, Ashley appeared next to her. After getting another drink—hers with vodka—she didn’t walk away. Instead she took a sip and then looked at Wren.

  “Having a good time?”

  “I am, thanks. It’s good to get out.”

  “That guy wasn’t bad looking, you know. And he seemed really interested in you.”

  Wren snorted. “I think I’m one of the few women here not wearing a ring.”

  “And you’re gorgeous, which doesn’t hurt,” Ashley added. “I noticed you didn’t really give him the time of day, though.”

  Wren got the feeling the other woman wasn’t making idle small talk. Tonight, they were all out as friends, but when push came to shove, Ashley was married to Grant’s lieutenant. If Danny was the kind of guy who vented at home, Ashley might know just how hard Wren leaving was on Grant.

  Rather than play coy, she just said it straight out. “When I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t love Grant. In that moment, I thought it was the best thing for him. I have absolutely no interest in dating anybody else.”

  “I hate you a little bit,” Ashley said, her tongue no doubt loosened a little by the cocktails. “But I loved you two together. I loved who he was with you, so I’m rooting for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ashley slung her arm around Wren’s shoulders. Definitely the cocktails. “I mean it. If you need anything, we’re here for you.”

  “Wren!” This time it was Jamie, yelling to her. “Come dance, girl!”

  They were determined she was going to have a good time, so who was she to say no? After sucking down the last of her soda water and setting the empty glass on the bar, she danced her way back to her friends.

  * * *

  Gavin crossed his arms and sighed. Again. “This is a really stupid idea.”

  Grant looked up at the neon sign with the fancy wineglass logo. Or maybe it was a martini glass. Hell if he knew. Frosted beer mugs were more his style. “That’s like the tenth time you’ve said that.”

  “Won’t be the last, either, because it’s a really stupid idea.”

  “The place looks packed. They won’t even know we’re here.”

  “The place looks packed because it’s barely bigger than our engine bay, and there are five women in there who know us. We’re not going to be able to hide, they’re going to know we’re here, and you’re going to look like a creepy douchebag.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll just tell them I was trying to stop you, then I’ll kiss Cait and buy them all a drink and they’ll love me. You, though? They’ll just think you’re a moron.”

  “Okay, maybe it’s a slightly stupid idea. We need a better one.”

  “I’ve got one. We go back to Kincaid’s, have another brew and shoot some more pool.”

  “Maybe we could go in and you tell Cait you need her keys because you can’t find yours and you locked yourself out, or something. Or maybe—” He stopped when Gavin waved to somebody. “Who are you waving to?”

  Gavin nodded his head toward one of the windows, where Cait was waving
back. With Wren at her side.

  “Shit.”

  “I told you so.”

  The two women exchanged words and then laughed. A few seconds later, Jamie appeared next to Wren. She laughed and then yelled something over her shoulder. A moment later, they were all in the window, looking out at them.

  Through the corner of his eye, he saw Gavin pull his phone out and send a text. “Who are you texting?”

  “Cait. Trust me, I want to get out ahead of this.”

  Grant watched Cait read her phone and then burst out laughing. Naturally, her phone got handed off to Wren and then all the other women so they could all laugh. “What the hell did you tell her?”

  “I told her you ate some bad seafood and I found you wandering the streets.”

  “Funny.”

  “They think so.” He looked down at his phone again. “She said they voted and since we came all the way over here, we can go in for one drink.”

  “They have beer, right?” It didn’t look like a beer kind of place.

  “Let me get this straight. We left Kincaid’s to come all way over here so you could see Wren, but now you might balk because of the beverage choices?”

  “I wanted to see Wren. She wasn’t supposed to see me,” Grant muttered.

  “You know that’s stalking, right?”

  “Okay, yeah. In hindsight, this was a really stupid idea.”

  “If only you had a friend to tell you that.”

  “We should go.”

  Gavin laughed and gave him a shove toward the door. “Nope. You dragged me here to crash their girls’ night and you’re not backing out now. Face the dance music, my friend.”

  As soon as he walked through the door, Grant wanted to walk back out. The dance music wasn’t obnoxiously loud, but it wasn’t his thing. And there were a lot of smells happening. Good ones—perfumes and lotions and hair sprays or whatever—but enough of them so he felt an urge to sneeze. It couldn’t be good for Wren, he thought.

  But then he saw her and it didn’t matter where they were. He was barely aware of Gavin joining Cait or the laughter that followed whatever he said to her.

  Wren was walking toward him and she was smiling. “Bad seafood, huh?”

  His cheeks got hot. “Really bad.”

  “That story smells a little fishy to me.”

  “Oh, Wren, no.” He laughed with her, though. “How many have you had?”

  “Just one, actually.” Her eyes sparkled in the club lighting and he wanted to kiss her, but he held back.

  He looked around and then steered her toward what looked like a quiet spot. “I guess I should explain about tonight.”

  Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “I’m pretty sure crashing a girls’ night is a huge no.”

  “It is. I know that. And Gavin already pointed out I’m a stalker, a creepy douchebag and a moron.”

  “That seems a little harsh.”

  “Maybe.” He peeled off his jacket because it was about nine hundred degrees in the club. “I should explain, though.”

  “Okay.” She tilted her head, waiting.

  “I...don’t really have a good explanation.” He shoved the hand not holding his coat into the pocket of his jeans. “For months, I worried about you. I wondered if you were okay and where you were. Maybe, subconsciously, I still feel that, but I had the ability to answer those questions tonight. Where you are and if you’re okay. Does that make any sense?”

  “It does.” There was a sadness around her eyes now, and he hated himself for chasing away the happiness. “I won’t disappear again. I shouldn’t have before and, no matter what, I won’t run.”

  “Fair enough.” He grinned. “I’ll stop being a creepy stalker douchebag, then.”

  She laughed and put her hand on his arm. Heat flooded through him and he shifted his jacket, just in case. “You’re not a douchebag. Gavin just got two beers from the bartender, so let’s go sit down.”

  “You sure you should drink a beer after eating bad seafood?” Lydia asked, throwing a chip at him from one of the baskets of nachos on the table.

  He caught it and popped it in his mouth, shrugging. It was going to take a while to live this one down, and rightly so. But all that mattered was that Wren was laughing again. The women who considered him a part of their extended family had obviously welcomed her back into the fold.

  Fitting all of them around the table was tight, so Wren was pressed against his side. He could rest his arm across the back of her chair, but he resisted. He’d already made an ass of himself tonight. The next move was hers.

  His phone buzzed and he pushed his chair back enough so he could fish it out of his pocket. It was a text from Lydia, and he looked at her questioningly.

  She rolled her eyes and then looked down at her lap. A few seconds later his phone vibrated in his hand.

  Did you follow us because you were afraid we were being mean to her?

  And then the second text.

  You suck at being discreet.

  After making sure his phone angle would keep anybody—especially Wren—from seeing the screen, he responded.

  She’s the only single one, so I was afraid you’d try to find her a man. And I just needed to see her.

  We wouldn’t do that to you.

  I know. I’m an idiot.

  At least you’re self-aware.

  He snorted and shoved the phone back into his pocket to signal he was done with the conversation.

  “Everything okay?” Wren asked as he scooted forward again.

  “Yeah. It was nothing.”

  The dance music changed to a slower song, and Cait hauled Gavin to his feet. “You’re going to dance with me.”

  “I love when she’s bossy,” he said, doing what he was told, and they all laughed.

  Grant wanted to dance with Wren. He sucked at dancing, but he’d get to hold her for three minutes, give or take. But he’d already decided the ball was in her court, and he didn’t want to push any more.

  “Go dance with Wren,” Ashley told him. Apparently she’d decided to run onto the court and hit the ball herself.

  “That’s up to Wren.”

  “You came all the way here,” Wren said. “I guess I should at least dance with you.”

  She nudged him so he stood up and then gave her his hand. He’d intended just to help her up, but she didn’t let go. Hand in hand, they walked to the small dance floor and then her arms were around his neck and his hands were on her waist. He didn’t pull her any closer, but it was enough.

  “So what were you and Lydia texting about?” she asked as they swayed to the music.

  “I would be the world’s worst secret agent, wouldn’t I?”

  “The absolute worst.”

  “She asked if I followed you guys here because I was afraid they’d be mean to you.”

  She laughed. “Since we’re all adults, it makes more sense that anybody who didn’t want to be around me simply wouldn’t have come.”

  “And for the record, I didn’t follow you here. Gavin pulled up the location of Cait’s phone with his and it showed us you were here.”

  “Oh, that’s so much less creepy, then,” she said, and then she laughed loudly enough so heads turned, until it turned into a cough she muffled against his chest.

  He felt his cheeks get hot and he decided not to say anything that would dig him a deeper hole. Instead, he just enjoyed dancing with her until the song came to an end and the music changed back to a fast, bass-heavy club mix.

  “Okay, you two had your fun,” Cait said when they got back to the table. “Time to go.”

  “You’re really throwing us out?” Gavin tried to snake his arm around her waist, but Cait held him at arm’s length.

  “We really are.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Ashl
ey called out.

  “I guess it’s time to go,” Grant told Wren. “I’ll see you...soon.”

  “Thanks for the dance.” She leaned closer. “You should go before they physically throw you out. That would be embarrassing.”

  Once they were out in the cold again, Gavin looked at him and shook his head. “Sometimes being your wingman is a pain in the ass. You used to be cool.”

  “I seem to recall some less than smooth moves when you started dating Cait, dumbass.”

  “True. But nothing this lame.”

  Grant wanted to argue the point, but there wasn’t really anything he could say, so he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go shoot some more pool.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You look happy tonight, for somebody who lost her home,” Mr. Belostotsky told Wren when she showed up at the market for her shift on Sunday afternoon. “Don’t you think so, Mother?”

  Mrs. Belostotsky nodded. “She does. Did you find a new place to live, then?”

  “Not yet, but I’m renting a spare bedroom from my friend’s mother.” Wren had no intention of mentioning Grant or the girls’ night out.

  “That’s good,” Mr. Belostotsky said.

  She had no idea what their first names were. When she’d seen the Help Wanted sign in the window and gone inside, he’d introduced himself as Mr. Belostotsky and his wife the same way. And he called her Mother, and she called him Dearest. It was cute and always made Wren smile, even if it struck her as slightly old-fashioned. Neither of them had very strong accents, but strong enough so they were probably both first generation. They were kind and paid her on time. That’s all she cared about.

  “You’ll tell us if you need anything?” Mrs. Belostotsky said.

  “I will. You’ve already been so generous. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “And you make sure you rest if you need to. You’re a sweet girl. We like you.”

  Wren was slightly horrified to feel her eyes well up with tears, and she gave them a quick swipe before smiling at her employers. “I like you, too.”

  Then, before she could get any more emotional—Mrs. Belostotsky was a hugger—she headed for the back room to get started. The work wasn’t hard, consisting mostly of doing the tasks Mrs. Belostotsky didn’t want to do anymore.