by Talty, Jen
She’d packed her things, moved out, and filed for divorce. Little did she know that three hours after she left, the police would come knocking on her front door and arrest her husband for fraud and embezzlement.
“That’s the right attitude to have.” Dorinda slapped her on the back. “Now, how about you let me fix you up with one of Kirk’s buddies. It’s been forever since you’ve gone on a date.”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Kitty wiggled her finger in front of her friend's nose as they stood at the street corner near the bar they worked at. “I told you, no men until I’m done with my master’s degree.”
“Are you kidding? You’ve been going to school part time for the last couple of years while you pay for your little brother’s education. You’re at least a year from even going to graduate school. That’s another two years without a man.”
“I don’t need a man in my life to be happy and fulfilled.”
“Okay, but you need sex.”
Kitty laughed. “They have toys for that.”
“That’s pathetic.” Dorinda looped her arm through Kitty’s and tugged her across the street. “How about a one-night stand? Lots of men are willing to do that.”
“Oh, please.” Kitty had one or two of those and talk about pathetic. It didn’t matter if the sex had been mind-blowing; it left her feeling used, unsatisfied, and cheap. Almost as bad as Preston had made her feel near the end of their marriage. Not a feeling she wanted to suffer through again. “Remember that guy from the gym?”
“Yeah, well, we all have one of those assholes in our past. But seriously, Kitty, you need to get out. I mean, you work, you take a class or two, you hang with your family and me, but that’s it. What kind of life is that?”
“A simple one,” she said, pushing open the door to McCurdy’s. When she’d been married to Preston, he wouldn’t allow his wife to work. So, she found charities and fundraisers to immerse herself in, and that was fine with him, and while she found it fulfilling, she’d always wanted to be a teacher. Every time she brought it up, he’d give her a million reasons why she didn’t have to work.
She smiled, imagining the look on his face if he knew she was tending bar. He’d flip out.
Her purse vibrated. Digging into it, she pulled out her phone. This time it was a missed call from Preston.
“Block his number.” Dorinda kissed Kitty on the cheek. “I better go be the hostess with the mostess.” Dorinda waved as she made her way to the front of the restaurant.
Kitty stepped behind the bar and into the back room, tossing her purse on the table.
“Hey, Kitty,” Scott McCurdy, the owner of the pub, said. “I heard the little brother graduated college. That’s awesome.”
“He landed a job too,” she said with a big smile. “He started last week. He’s super excited, and I’m really proud of him.”
“As you should be.” He pulled her in for a hug. Scott had become more of an uncle than a boss over the last couple of years. He’d been quite understanding of her schedule and gave her extra hours when she asked for them. “I know you’re only on until six, but do you mind staying until eight? If it’s not busy, I can let you go earlier.”
“Not a problem. I can use the hours before classes start in the fall.”
“You’re one of my best bartenders. It’s going to be hard not having you around full time.”
“I’ll still be working weekends and one or two nights during the week. I’ve got to save some money so I can move out of my parents’ house.” She didn’t mind living with her parents at all, but at twenty-seven, it was about time.
“You tell me what hours and days you can work, and I’ll make it happen.”
“Thanks, Scott. I really appreciate it.”
Scott disappeared into his office.
She sat in the back room and stared at her phone. For almost a year she hadn’t heard a single word from her ex-husband, so what on earth did he want now? On the day of his sentencing, Preston had told her that he’d get his revenge for her testifying against him. Not that her testimony did the prosecution much good since she knew almost nothing, but it didn’t look good that his wife was willing to toss him under the bus.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she unlocked her phone.
Preston: I’ve had a lot of time to think about things, and I want to apologize properly. Can we meet for coffee sometime?
That text had been the first of about twenty starting a couple of weeks ago. She scrolled to the last one.
Preston: I would really appreciate it if you would grow up and stop ignoring me. I just want to talk. I heard Keith graduated. Good for him. He’s a smart young man. Please. Call me. I would like the opportunity to talk to you.
She tossed her phone into her purse and tucked it into a locker. She knew Preston well enough that if she responded, he’d take that as a sign she would welcome him back into her life, and that would never happen.
* * *
The humid Baltimore air smothered JW’s skin, closing off his pores. Dust and dirt from the hardened ground after weeks of no rain, coating his body layer upon layer, had never been as brutal as a summer afternoon in this city. Who the hell came to Baltimore to clear out the cobwebs and have a little downtime?
Johnnie Walker Whiskey did, that’s who. But only because he tossed a dart at a map of the United States and vowed to take a week wherever that dart landed. He’d been hoping for the Carolinas but man, had his aim been off.
He turned the corner from his hotel, his cowboy boots smacking the pavement as his socks squished. God, this would make his boots smell worse than a horse barn, a week overdue on mucking the stalls, on the hottest day of the year. Two young men wearing polo shirts, bright-colored shorts, and flip-flops strode past. JW never wore shorts. Ever. And he certainly didn’t sport flippy things. Hell, he barely wore sneakers, and only if he had to.
Now, shirtless?
He could do that all day long.
But he supposed the same rules about shirts and restaurants applied in Baltimore as it did in the rest of the country.
He had no idea where he was going, only that he figured he’d pass some sort of bar that served food at some point and a little walk would be good, except he hadn’t anticipated sweating so much. Maybe, he should try a pair of shorts.
The image popped into his head.
Nope. He’d rather be hot.
His cell buzzed in his back pocket. He snagged it and glanced at the incoming call.
Luke Hannah.
JW paused. A young mother pushing a toddler in a stroller bumped into his heels. He turned and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
The woman scowled and pushed past him in a rush.
He’d been avoiding Luke for months. Georgia Moon kept telling JW to give the man a chance to at least apologize. After that, if JW never wanted to speak to him again, then so be it.
JW stepped to the side and tapped the green button. “Hello.”
“JW? Did you really answer the phone? I thought I was going to have to leave another message. I’ve left six in the last month.”
And JW hadn’t listened to a single one. “I’ve been busy, and now I’m out of town. What do you want, Luke?” JW leaned against a brick building and tipped his hat over his eyes. A dull ache developed between his temples.
“So, I take it you haven’t opened the large envelope I sent you a couple of weeks ago.”
JW let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. I haven’t.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t have betrayed our friendship like that. I could give you a million excuses on why it happened, but they wouldn’t mean anything.”
“You’ve got that right, and I don’t care.” JW had heard from more than one source that Bella had told Luke lie after lie for weeks to get him into her bed. He’d also heard that Luke hadn’t been her only affair. JW honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass about the circ
umstances.
And he didn’t want to hold on to this anger anymore.
“I’m sorry about what I did. I know you’ll probably never be able to forgive me, and I understand.”
JW’s stomach growled. “Is that all you wanted?”
“No. I’m moving, and I want to sell you my farm.”
“What?” JW wiggled his index finger in his ear. “Why?”
“Robert Brothers is hell-bent on destroying me, and I don’t have the resources you have to fight him or protect myself. If I put it on the market, he’ll buy it within seconds, and if I don’t, I’ll be bankrupt in weeks, and he’ll come in and scoop it up anyway.”
“It makes no sense for him to do that. His property is across the county.”
“He blames me for a lot of things, and we both know Bella hasn’t been kind in the media,” Luke said. “They are out to destroy me, and they are doing a bang-up job of it. Look, JW. Our properties meet at the far northwest corner of your ranch near the creek. It makes perfect sense for you to buy up mine, especially when you’re expanding your school.”
The expansion of the Whiskey Ranch Bull Riding School had been in the works for almost a year. It should have been off the ground, but JW’s arrest had stalled the progress. Buying Luke’s land would give JW and his family an edge over Robert Brothers in the long run. JW might be good at holding grudges, but he was a better businessman.
“Where would you go if you sold your land?”
“My sister has a horse farm down in Florida. I’ll go there for a while until I figure out what to do next.”
JW tipped his Stetson back and pushed from the building. Sweat trickled down his back. “I can help you fight Robert if you want.”
Luke chuckled. “He wouldn’t see that coming, and I appreciate the thought, but I need to get the hell out of Idaho. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Bella fucked me up good.”
“She knows how to make a man bleed out, that’s for damn sure.” The heaviness that had been weighing him down became slightly lighter. He and Luke might never be good friends again, but letting go of all the anger and resentment put a spring in JW’s step. “Call Georgia Moon. She knows where the package is that you sent. Tell her I’m on board, and we’ll give you a fair price.”
“I’m sure you will,” Luke said. “Where are you, anyway?”
“You’d never believe it if I told you. We’ll wrap up the details when I return next week.”
“Thanks, man.”
“See you then.” JW tapped the screen and slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
Leisurely, he strolled about five blocks until he stood in front McCurdy’s Restaurant. He glanced over the menu which consisted of your typical burgers, steaks, wraps, and other standard items anyone would expect from a pub. The door swung open as two young girls, arm in arm, scurried onto the sidewalk.
They both turned their heads and smiled. “Best pub in all of Baltimore,” one of them said, batting her eyelashes.
Pretty enough, but if they were a day over twenty-one, he’d be shocked.
“Can’t go wrong,” the other girl said.
He lifted his Stetson, giving the girls a nod. “I appreciate the tip.” But he didn’t need it. The thick aroma of grilled beef, barbeque sauce, French fries, and whiskey sending his stomach on a low, hard growl had told him that this would be his nightly stop for the week.
If he could stand this city that long.
Not only had he been hoping for the Carolinas, but he preferred the great outdoors, hiking, canoeing, and staring at green mountains.
Not buildings.
He stepped into the pub and glanced around at the packed room. Well, it was happy hour in most places.
“It’s going to be about an hour wait for a table,” the hostess said with a bright smile.
“Can I get dinner at the bar?”
“By all means. Same menu.” The young woman pointed across the room to the back bar, across from a stage where a band looked to be setting up. “That’s Kitty behind the counter. Tell her Dorinda sent you and that I said to take special care of you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He made his way through the room, staring at the back side of Kitty, the bartender, wondering what the hell Kitty stood for and if she got razzed as much as he did for his name.
He took the open seat at the end and watched her hips sway as she shook two metal containers before pouring them into a tall glass filled with ice. Her long red hair was pulled loosely into a braid, cascading down her back, stopping just an inch shy of her belt. She wore jeans that hugged her hips like a saddle on a bull. A black tank top rested gently at the top of her pants, showing off just a little skin.
She turned sideways, and he damn near fell off the stool as she leaned across the counter, sliding the tasty drink across the wood. Her full ruby lips drew into a killer smile.
“I still can’t believe my baby brother is a college graduate and gainfully employed,” she said.
“Thanks to you,” a young man with bright-red hair said.
“Hey, babe, our table is ready,” a blond chick waved from across the room.
“Dinner is on me,” Kitty said.
“Someday, sis, I’m going to strike gold and take care of you for a change.”
“I do mighty fine all by myself.” She tilted her head toward the end of the bar. Sexy freckles dotted her pale skin. Her face said she couldn’t be older than maybe twenty-two, which was way too young for his blood. At pushing thirty-four, he didn’t date anything younger than twenty-eight.
That wasn’t true.
He didn’t date.
At all.
“Nice hat,” Kitty said, her hand waving across the counter with a white rag.
He watched her clear off the space in front of him, mesmerized by her movement, and tried to ignore the fact he noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Why thank you, ma’am.”
She tossed the cloth over her shoulder with an arched brow. “Not sure anyone has ever called me ma’am.”
“First time for everything.” He took his hat off, setting it on the counter, realizing he stuck out like a black Lab in a sea of yellow ones. “Are you Kitty?” He ran his fingers through his short dark hair. The only time he took off his hat was when he showered, went to bed, or when the pastor at his church made him.
She leaned back with a scowl. “Who’s asking?”
“JW and Dorinda over there said Kitty would take good care of me.” He hadn’t meant to put her on the defensive. “Can I call you, Kitty? Or would you prefer ma’am?”
Her smile returned. “I’ll answer to either. What can I get you?”
“How about a Stella and shot of Johnnie Walker, and whenever you get a chance, a menu.”
“Sure thing.” She reached under the counter, her arms pressing against the sides of her breasts, enhancing her cleavage which he couldn’t help but notice.
He dropped his gaze to his lap.
“What’s JW stand for?” She snagged a Stella glass and pulled back the lever, dispensing the brew.
“I’ll tell you on two conditions.”
“I’m not sure I want to know that badly,” she said with a slight laugh.
“Well, I want to know if someone named you Kitty or if that’s a nickname.”
“What’s the second condition?” She flicked the foam off the top with a quick snap of her wrist.
“When you’re on a break, you take a few minutes to tell me what in this town I should do and see.” Well, shit. He’d meant to say: you can’t make fun of my name.
She pushed the beer in front of him as she turned and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. “I don’t socialize with customers.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just asking for recommendations of things to do. I’m here for a week, and all I’ve got on the docket is an Oilers game.”
“I can make some recommendations while I’m working.” She nodded her head at another customer. “Good enough compromise for condit
ion number two?”
He nodded with a big smile. He hadn’t had this much fun talking with another woman since he started dating Bella. Of course, Kitty hadn’t a clue who he was, and if she did, she’d be even more reserved, if she even chatted with him at all.
And he must not forget, Kitty was a female, and he didn’t need one, especially a young one.
“All right then. Kitty is my nickname. My real name is Cat. Just Cat. Not Catheryn or Caitlynn or anything sweet like that.”
He stifled a laugh as he raised his shot. “That’s cute.”
“Adorable,” she chided with a sarcastic grin.
“Is there a reason your parents named you just Cat and called you Kitty?” He downed the rich liquid in one gulp, enjoying the burn as it pooled in his gut. He told himself he was being polite with the lovely bartender, nothing else.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.” She nodded to another customer who waved at her from the other end of the bar. “Can I get you another Johnnie Walker?”
“This Johnnie Walker will take another shot of his namesake.”
“JW stands for Johnnie Walker?” When she laughed, her lips puckered, and all he could think about was kissing them. “I’ve got to hear why your parents named you that.”
“Only if you tell me why yours named you Cat, Kitty.”
“It’s a deal, right after I take care of another patron.” She poured him another shot before making her way down the bar, attending to all the customers, making sure they had what they required while another bartender made drinks for the waitresses.
He should have been spending his time nursing his beer and going over the menu instead of gawking at the cute Kitty with a personality of a tiger and a wicked sense of humor. When she glanced his direction, catching his gaze, he quickly snapped the menu, ducking his head behind it like an idiot who had never mastered how to pick up a girl in a bar.
“Have you decided?” she asked, her hip resting against the counter, arms folded over her chest.
“What do you recommend? What’s your favorite?”
“I’m partial to the corn beef and cabbage.”
