I eye him suspiciously. “How do you know what I’m looking for?”
He twists the glass around in his hand and takes another drink. “Oh, just call it a hunch.”
I open my mouth to speak, to ask him how he knows my name, but he strolls off, still laughing. “Hey!” I jump on my tiptoes, but he doesn’t return.
The balcony is empty. I try the glass door to the building, but it’s locked. Of course it’s locked. As I find the sign, I realize it’s the entrance to the bank. How could some random stranger hanging out after hours at the bank possibly know my name?
He must know Reid.
Annoyed, I slowly make my way up the street.
Not even a block north, I spot a window with a giant blue rooster painted on it. I hesitate. The stranger knew if he mentioned it, I would find this place. I sneak a quick look inside. The familiarity of every restaurant that has ever been stares back at me. Why was this one different? I pull the heavy wooden door open to the sound of people chattering.
The place is busy. The young girl working the hostess stand runs back and forth, calling out names off her notepad. I wait at the stand for her to return from taking a family of three to their table. I haven’t even sat down, but I already know I like the place. It isn’t one of those fancy restaurants where you feel you have to dress up. It’s casual with its dim lighting and rustic furniture. The art on the wall is impressive, not something you find in your upscale snobby art gallery. It’s all local folk art.
The girl finally returns, dashing a smile despite her frantic appearance. Her brown, curly hair is stuck out in all directions, only to be pushed out of her face by a canary yellow headband. “How many?” she asks, pen ready.
I glance around, deciding what I should do, but then my stomach growls. A girl has to eat. It might as well be here.
“Just me, I’m afraid.” I lean in closer so she can hear me over the noise of the crowd. “Can I eat at the bar? I’d sure hate to take a table all to myself on such a busy night.”
She glances over her shoulder, following my eyes to the dining area behind her. There are only a few tables open, and each of them could fit a family of six. “Sure, sure.” She waves for me to follow her.
Straight off to the left is a small bar made from rusted tin and driftwood. I have difficulty sifting through the people to follow her. Everyone around seems to be watching the TV mounted above it, as indicated by the synchronized yells of triumph and disappointment. The girl leads me down to the end of the bar and points to an open seat. I quickly take it as she motions for the bartender. “She’s eating at the bar tonight,” she yells at the lady pouring drinks. “Treat her right.”
The bartender gives her a quick nod, and the girl vanishes. I look around, not knowing what else to do, and then I see a white napkin slip under my arm. “You look like you need a drink to go with that dinner.”
I do a double take as I reposition the napkin. The woman doesn’t possess any of the qualities I normally associate with a bartender. She’s older, early fifties, I’d guess, and wears glasses that look like something from the eighties. However, her hair is cut in an exotic crop pattern, giving her a more contemporary look. Her smile is amazing, to the point I find myself grinning back at her. I guess a good personality is all you need to serve drinks. “Just the food and water for now.”
She hands me a menu and returns with a glass of ice water. She shoots me a wink. “The water is on the house.”
After ordering, I find myself people watching, which turns out to be very enlightening. It’s funny how close, but completely different, two places in the same restaurant can be. A young family sits not ten feet away, the toddler climbing in and out of his seat, while the parents talk casually over their food. It’s like there is some kind of invisible force field separating the bar from everything else. Maybe people in this town only see what they want to see. Hopefully that means no one will see me, or at least the real me.
I turn my head reflexively as the bell over the door rings. I notice how the girl immediately perks up at the sound and runs by me with her notepad in hand. It’s an older couple with two teenagers who they probably dragged out for a family night. The boy dips down to catch a glimpse of the game over the bar while the girl types rapidly on her cell phone. A sting of jealousy hits me as I watch the kids walk to their table, the boredom evident on their faces. What I wouldn’t give to have a boring family dinner.
I jump into the bar, banging my knee against the wood paneling as I direct my eyes back to the door. Standing at the hostess stand with his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans and a large, protruding knot peeking out from under his messy hair is none other than Mister Sunshine himself.
I rub my knee under the table, wincing as I try to slump down on my stool. I’m already annoyed with the inconvenience of small town life. I thought surely it would be years before I had any awkward run-ins with random men.
I straighten up as the bartender appears in front of me holding my dinner. She looks at me for a second, eyeing my odd posture. “Are you okay?” She sets the plate in front of me.
“Dandy.” Reid passes by in my peripheral vision. A spark of something feral runs down my spine. I scoot to the edge of my seat to escape it. I don’t dare turn around until I know he’s seated.
I eat my cheeseburger and fries with haste, glancing over my shoulder every couple of seconds. He sits off to my right at a table with three other people. I’m shocked to find out he has friends.
The girl across from him is easiest to see. Her copper hair is highlighted with streaks of purple and pink through the front. She looks like Reid. Identical noses. They have to be related. That would explain her obligation to hang out with him.
The girl leans under the arm of the boy next to her. He’s stocky. His muscles bulge through his t-shirt, but his face holds a boyish charm. His hair is honey-blond and falls in wild curls around his eyes that are squinted in laughter as he kisses the girl on the cheek.
It takes some maneuvering for me to see the girl sitting on the other side. I think maybe she is Reid’s girlfriend, but they sit apart from each other, lacking the obvious PDA of the other two.
She looks exceptionally intelligent.
Her black hair hangs in waves accented by an array of braids that are held together by a beaded band. She listens quietly while the other girl gallantly tells a story.
“Interested?”
I spin around to find the bartender grinning at me.
“In what?” I absently twirl a fry in my ketchup.
She nods behind me, but I don’t have to turn around to know who she means. “He’s single, you know? I could introduce you.” She gives me a wiggly eyebrow to go with her suggestive tone.
“No,” I sputter out, accidentally banging my knee on the board again. “That is not necessary.”
The bartender laughs, adjusting her glasses. “Just thought I’d offer.”
I turn back to look over my shoulder. Reid smiles at the girl across the table as she fervently continues her story. When he isn’t scowling at you, he could be kind of cute, in that bronze-skinned, super hot guy kind of way, which as of yesterday is totally not my type. I scrunch up my nose and turn back around. “So you know them?”
The bartender leans against the counter, her eyes dancing. “What do you want to know?”
“They look familiar.” I draw circles across my plate in my leftover salt.
Her smile curls into a smirk. “Reid Thomas,” she says, pointing to him. “Cuter than a pound full of lost puppies and sweeter than his momma’s apple pie.”
I raise a questioning eye at her. Maybe we aren’t talking about the same person. “Do you get paid for that kind of advertisement?”
She laughs, straightening her glasses. “He’s my nephew. His twin sister, Abner, is my niece.”
I turn back around, appraising the girl with streaked hair. It’s true. They can definitely pass as twins. She really must feel obligated to hang out with him. �
�Abner,” I repeat, trying to make myself remember the odd name.
“Yeah, but I’d call her Abby if I were you,” she says. “Only her momma gets by with calling her otherwise.”
I make the mental note before nodding toward them. “And the others?”
She seems completely delighted that I asked. “The curly headed blond is Abby’s boyfriend, Grady Bradshaw.”
“And the other girl?”
“Miss free love and peace? That’s our Sadie.”
I look at the black-haired girl again, and this time I see the frown. “She looks upset about something.”
“Ezekiel Prescott’s fault, no doubt.” There is a tightness to bartender’s voice as she says the name. “Her boyfriend doesn’t eat here.”
I nod, because I can tell by the gruff tone of her voice that it’s better to let the topic go. I don’t need involved in anyone’s relationship drama. Yet my eyes go back to them. Abby. Sadie. I repeat the names over in my head like I might forget them. Or maybe it’s because I still can’t believe they are real. Did the boy on the balcony know they’d be here?
The bartender watches me, so I force myself to turn around to my food. She leans over the bar as I take the last bite of my cheeseburger. “May I ask you what your name might be?”
I raise my eyes, only to quickly let them drop back to my plate. She studies my face a little too intently for my liking. My first instinct is to lie. It’s always to lie. If this woman knows them so well, then she obviously knew my mother too. Of course, that doesn’t mean she will immediately recognize my name as Reid had, but I don’t know if that is a risk I should take. I remind myself I came here for one reason, and that is to learn about my past, and my mother in particular, so I shouldn’t let this guy who doesn’t even know me ruin it. “Wilhelmina Daniels,” I say softly, looking back up at her.
I expect shock, or maybe disinterest. I didn’t expect to watch her smile, the crooked corners of her oddly painted lips to lift up as she lets out a hearty laugh. “It’s about time you came home.”
She casually reaches under the bar to grab a pitcher of water. She refills my glass as I try to control the dumbfounded look on my face. She obviously notices and decides to take pity on me. “I recognized you the second you sat down on that stool, honey bear.” She lets out another cackle before scooting her glasses back up her long nose. “You were either Fiona’s daughter or her ghost.”
“A-a-and you just knew?”
She ignores my question, turning her attention back to the table behind me. “May I ask why you are sitting here like you don’t have a friend in the world when your family is right there?”
I grimace, my natural reaction to interrogation. It’s like my nose has a mind of its own and wrinkles in disgust against the better judgment of the rest of my face.
Her face turns solemn. “Have you even been by to see Sera yet?”
I purse my lips, pressing them together so hard that when I release them, they let out a resounding pop. Which, of course, is code for no. “It’s complicated.”
One of the rowdy patrons calls for her down at the other end of the bar, but she holds up her hand, signaling for them to wait. And they do. Without question. “How is visiting your family complicated?”
This lady is much more than a bartender. I instantly regret opening my mouth. Involuntarily, I glance back over my shoulder at Reid, who laughs at his sister. He swipes his unruly hair out of his eyes, making the large knot on his forehead more prominent. His smile, which somehow makes you completely forget the ghastly wound above it, is completely genuine. Neither of them is here out of obligation to the other. They merely enjoy each other’s company.
A part of me—a deep, tortured part I like to pretend doesn’t exist—wants to return the gesture, because I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I don’t want to eat dinner by myself or resort to becoming a professional kitty litter cleaner. I don’t want to be that kid in the corner with the labels and record sheet explaining why no one should want me.
I want more.
I’m sure my face clearly showcases the emotion I feel, which means it’s past time for me to go. I grab cash from my pocket and throw it on the bar. “I think I should be getting home,” I say, dropping my gaze. The same shame that has haunted me my entire life forces its way back to life.
Fingers wrap around my wrist, halting my escape, and when I look up, I catch the shocked fury in her eyes. “Did he say something to you?”
“No.” My voice cracks, and the lie is obvious. “It’s not like—” I try again, but her eyes light up with fire. “I don’t want to cause a scene. He doesn’t want me to talk to them, so please let me leave unnoticed.”
Her free hand slaps across the bar top with a resounding boom I didn’t think possible from such a small woman. Every eye in the place turns to her, every voice muted. “David Reid Thomas!”
I wilt in my seat, closing my eyes, trying to pretend this isn’t real, that she isn’t calling him out for being mean to me in front of half the town.
A high-pitched scratch echoes through the room, the sound of a wood chair on tiled floor. I shrink deeper against the bar, but it’s too late. Reid stands at the table, his questioning eyes on his aunt. “What’s up, Cari?”
She lets go of my arm to round the bar, stopping just short of his table, cocking her head and her hip to the side. I grew up around enough hot-tempered women to recognize the gesture. This will end badly for me. In an effort to save my own skin, I slide off the stool and ease silently toward the exit.
“I want to know who the hell gave you the right to tell Fiona’s daughter not to talk to Seraphina.”
I round the hostess stand when she spins around and points at me. Instinctively, I jump behind the brown-headed girl and close my eyes as if somehow that might help.
“Well?” the volatile lady, apparently named Cari, asks again.
Footsteps creak across the room, and I can’t make myself open my eyes.
“Julie.” Reid’s voice is stern but unnaturally pleasant. “Do you mind?”
My shield shifts in front of me, and I peek one eye open to find Reid standing in front me with an I-should-have-known look on his face. I shoot him an innocent smile.
He rolls his eyes, glancing back at the table where his sister and two friends gawk at us. Cari stands in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer to her question.
“I didn’t know she would make such a fuss.” I nervously smile back at the faces around the room. I’ll look anywhere but at Reid at this point.
“You obviously don’t know Carolyn Hughes.” His chin is set tight. He’s trying very hard to rein in his temper. “Besides, this is her restaurant. She can make a fuss if she wants to.”
Abby tucks her purple hair behind her ear and climbs up on a chair to peer over the crowd at us. I turn sideways, trying to hide my face. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make it worse,” I whisper. “I’m leaving.”
I dart toward the door, but he catches the tail of my shirt. I stumble backward as he steps forward, slamming into the stone wall of his chest. His lips touch my ear. “Wait here.”
Immobile, I watch him stalk back to the table, passing by Cari, offering her nothing more than a hard stare. He goes directly to his sister with his hand held out. “May I have my keys back?”
Abby stares down at him from her perch. “Why? What’s going on? Is that really her?”
“Abby,” he begs. “Please?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, displeased with his answer. Abby’s boyfriend, Grady, sticks his hand in her purse that sits on the table and lobs the keys toward Reid. Reid gives him an appreciative smile. “Make sure these two make it home for me, will you?”
Grady gives Reid a quick nod, and the next thing I know, he’s in front of me again, pointing toward the door. I look back at Abby, a twinge in my heart as she gives me the slightest of smiles. Reid catches my elbow and spins me toward the door. The bell rings over our
heads, and the crowd erupts in murmurs behind our backs.
Chapter 4
NAMING THE UNKNOWN
It’s pitch dark. Nothing but streetlamps light our march down the sidewalk. I constantly stumble to keep up with Reid’s long strides. It’s not because I’m staring at his ass in those jeans.
Definitely not that.
He pulls me down an alleyway that is lit only by the dim lamps hanging over the doorways. I point in the opposite direction. “My car is that way.”
“I’ll get it later.” He pushes forward down the alley, never bothering to look back.
We come out on another street where he stands looking up and down the block before motioning for me to follow him across the road. I still look twice each way even though the street is deserted. He waits next to a double-cab, gray truck. He flings the passenger side door open and pushes me inside. “Where are we going?”
He ignores me, slamming the door in my face. Once he’s in the driver’s seat, I shoot him a dirty look and try again, this time a little less friendly. “Where are we going?”
“I thought maybe we’d go to your house, let you hit me over the head again.” He glares over at me, gesturing toward his wound. “You know, to even it out, because I think it looks pretty stupid lopsided like this.”
“Smartass.” I throw myself back into the seat and cross my arms as he backs out of the parking space. “No wonder you’re single.”
He stops momentarily in the middle of the street with his hand on the gearshift, waiting to push it into drive. “What?”
“I said you’re such a charmer.”
He scowls at me. His pissed off face is growing on me. I grin back. With one swift jerk of his hand, the truck is in gear and we zoom down the back street. I fumble to find my seatbelt. My hands tremble as I click it into place.
We are already on the road leading out of town when I look back out the window, watching the lights from downtown fade out of sight. His eyes are fixated on the road, his fingers running along the side of the steering wheel like he’s in a hurry.
Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) Page 3
