by Viola Notte
****
I was just about to leave when the stranger stepped back out into the bar. Keeping my head low, I furtively glanced his way without him noticing. He had stopped in front of a table with several other men.
“Emerson,” an older man greeted him with reservation in his voice.
The man across the table tapped his nails loudly against the wood and said, “I don’t expect we’ll have any trouble from you now that Judge Pool signed off on the hunt?” He shifted slightly in his chair, and a little ray of light reflected from the small, silver star he wore over his right breast pocket.
Emerson shook his head, “I’ve never given you a lick of trouble, Sheriff, and I’m not about to start. Just make sure your boys stick to the boundaries that Pool drew out; anything closer than five miles is off limits and my problem.”
Emerson nodded a farewell and walked slowly towards the door. I didn’t dare budge. I could feel his eyes on me without ever seeing his face. A knot had formed in my stomach and my mouth had gone instantly dry. Maybe it would have been easier to just look up and say 'hello.' Deep down I know that’s what I wanted to do, but girls like me don’t wind up with men like him. The thought made me wince. Years of size two bleach blondes with nose jobs telling me I was too fat had left a scar. And even though I tried never to let it get to me, I knew that I was never going to be the girl that got the guy. I was destined from birth to be the bridesmaid but never the bride.
“You’re not from around here,” a deep voice suddenly startled me.
I hadn’t realized that he had come my way, and I was entirely unprepared for it. “I, I…Well, I will be,” I stuttered like a fool. I nervously shot my hand out to him to introduce myself, but instead I nearly knocked my Coke off the bar.
Emerson’s hand shot out and he caught the glass before it had a chance to fall, placing it upright and off to the side of the bar. My cheeks had already grown hot and red. ‘Great first impression,’ I thought to myself as I slowly lifted my gaze to his. From here he was even more attractive than I had imagined. He had a week's growth of thick, dark facial hair that shadowed his perfectly chiseled jaw line, and magnificent, deep green eyes that seemed to almost radiate.
“I mean, I just got into town,” I swallowed.
“And you’re looking for a place to rent?” he asked, tracing the circles I had made around several of the classified ads that had looked promising.
“Yes,” I replied timidly.
“Well, don’t let anyone scare you off. It takes some time for the locals to warm up to newcomers. Bear Creek can seem off-putting to strangers."
“How long did it take for you?” I blurted out, my unsettled nerves doing their best to make conversation.
He let out a rumbling laugh that made his entire body shake. “Thirty-six years,” he replied, nodding his head and giving me a smile as he started for the door.
But he stopped suddenly in his tracks and spun around. “Didn’t catch your name.”
“Mila," I answered softly, my eyelashes fluttering as I tried not to look down at the floor like a shy teenager.
“Emerson Steel,” he replied in a low growl. “I'll see you later then. Good night.”
Then he left. I took a deep breath and slowly began gathering up my things. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so distracted by the thought of Emerson I would have noticed the young men who were watching me closely.
'Thirty-six years?' I asked myself. 'Just how old could he be? Was that a joke? Or did he actually mean to tell me he had spent his entire life feeling like an outcast, just like I had?' It didn’t seem possible that someone as magnetic as he was could possibly have any trouble fitting in. I had met men with just a fraction of the looks Emerson had, and even with the most distasteful of personalities they had no trouble fitting in. How could Emerson ever feel like an outcast? I wrapped my jacket tightly around my body and headed out the door and into the cold, snowy night.
My mind was distracted, and my eyes were excited to take in the beauty of my new surroundings. The trees were like nothing I had ever seen in California. Snow-covered pines abounded, and though it was only early November, the entire place looked like a magical winter wonderland, like the kind one sees in Christmas advertisements or Terry Redlin paintings. I could have stood there all evening admiring the forest.
Lost as I was in my reverie, I was understandably startled by a rough voice that called out, "Hey there, sugar," just a few feet away.
For a split second I thought it must be Emerson. I took a step closer, but instantly realized that the man standing next to my truck smoking a cigarette was nothing like Emerson. I took a step back, suddenly startled and concerned for my safety. It wasn’t far to get back to the bar, but with the icy parking lot I would run the risk of slipping before I ever made it. I thought about the mace that I usually carried, but then remembered it was in the damn truck, along with my purse.
“Don’t worry. I just wanted to introduce myself,” the stranger said menacingly, his lip turning up into a little snarl as he took a step forward.
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