I threw back the rest of the drink and choked it down. I needed to get over it already. Gray was gone and he was never coming back to this place. Hell, I never wanted to come back to this place either, and I’d taken up residence in it. I slid my glass to the bartender and she promptly poured me another one, and I figured my measly tip money could be put to some sort of use. I tapped my foot along with the music and enjoyed the break, though people kept giving me odd looks.
I could only imagine what I looked like to them.
“Well hello there, pretty thing.”
I looked over at the bartender before my eyes settled on the man that had walked up.
“What kind of trouble did you get into tonight?”
“Spilled some drinks at work,” I said flatly.
“Well, let me buy you a glass of what you’re drinking to help you erase the memory.”
“No thanks,” I said.
I had three men at various stages of intoxication offer me drinks. Like I wasn’t already covered in them. The unwanted attention forced me to close out my tab and abandon my post, pushing me closer to the crowd of people gathered to hear the band. I didn’t need another glass of wine anyway. Three had been enough, and with it settling into an empty stomach, my worries about work were already melting away. At least if I lost my job, I had enough money to get to another town and hole up in another shitty motel until I could find another shitty job.
So long as it was shitty, I had a shot.
I moved closer to the crowd on the dance floor and swayed my hips. I closed my eyes and moved to the beat as I twirled myself around. Alone in my own little world, standing in a dark corner of the stage, minding my own damn business and trying to salvage my evening.
But the second I opened my eyes as the crowd began to clap, a familiar face came into view. A strong body with long arms and massive hands, leaning over the pool table and shooting a cue ball across the green felt table.
What the hell was Grayson MacDonald doing back in Stillsville?
Chapter 5
Grayson
The band was shit, but I tried to ignore it as I positioned my cue against the white ball on the pool table. All they did was play one shitty cover after another and boomed it out across the damn bar. Nothing original. Nothing to separate them from all the other shitty cover bands that came rolling through this small town. But it was something to do on a Friday night. I bit down on my tongue to concentrate on my shot. The man I was playing against watched me with hooded eyes and a beer up to his lips. I remembered him vaguely from high school. Both of us had been on the football team together for a little while. But I made varsity my sophomore year while he rode the junior varsity bench all four hellish years of high school.
I’m surprised he didn’t slap me across the face, too.
Currently, I had one hundred dollars riding on whether the eight-ball I was trying to sink made it into the corner pocket. It was an almost impossible shot, but it made the game a little more interesting. I drew my cue back and knocked against the white ball, watching as it bounced off his striped balls and the edges of the table. It rolled towards the eight-ball smoothly. Slowly. Deftly. Until it tapped against it and slowly inched it into the damn pocket.
I stood up and smiled as the guy groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Here,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, as I picked up the money off the table. “Always nice to play against a viable opponent.”
But he wasn’t happy at all. I looked over at him as he tossed his stick down onto the table, muttering curses underneath his breath. In retrospect, it was easy to win pool against a drunk. The way he stumbled on his feet told me everything I needed to know about his current physical state. He stalked off without even acknowledging my presence, so I tucked the money into my back pocket before grabbing the two sticks.
Just another example of Stillville’s finest.
As I hung up the sticks and dug the balls out of the pockets on the table, I wondered if coming back was a mistake. Putting up with these people just to settle Anton’s estate face to face almost didn’t seem worth it. Plus, I hadn’t seen her. And while part of me was relieved, the other part of me was upset about it. Was Michelle even still in town? Had she left as well? The idea sent me down a spiraling thought process that almost took me under. Where would she have gone? If she went back home, where was that? Was there a chance I would ever stumble across her again?
Just then, a flash of red caught the corner of my eye.
I whipped my head up from the green felted table and honed in on the color. The body attached to it had swiveling hip
s as her eyes locked straight onto mine. My heart beat faster in my chest as I took in the sight of her. Electricity flew through my veins. Michelle was there. In that bar. Listening to the same shitty music I was, and staring at me in much the same way I probably was with her. My hands tingled with the want to touch her. My legs craved the ability to cross the floor to get to her. I rose up and walked around the pool table, beginning my journey towards the woman who had me hooked with her electrical currents.
But then her eyes diverted from mine.
And her body turned away from me.
Her legs carried her as quickly as she could make it towards the door. I moved through the crowd to intercept her. She wasn’t getting away again. I wasn’t letting go of her this time. I pushed people out of my way and ignored their curses before I stepped in front of her, blocking her route to the only damn exit in the place.