Fiance Next Door

~

I seem to have managed that, I think as I look across the bar. Bill, his face beet-red, looks like he’s already on the verge of passing out after three beers. The poor man has no tolerance for alcohol. His brother, Ron, is still going, halfway through the bottle of rum in his hand. And the rest of the men in the establishment? They’re all varying levels of drunk, happily sipping what’s left of their free drinks and not asking for any women.

Indeed, the only ones who are still sober in this bar are me and the bartender, a guy named Tucker that I had a few classes with back in high school. And even he has had a few beers.

“I have to hand it to you,” he tells me. “You know how to make my customers happy.”

“Me?” I swirl the whiskey in my glass. “You’re the one who served them drinks.”

“You’re the one who paid for them,” Tucker points out. “That makes all the difference.”

I grin. “I guess.”

He lifts his bottle of beer. “To Mason Burke, the richest man to have ever come from this town. I hope he comes home more often.”

I let out a chuckle as I lift my glass. “Thanks, but not likely.”

I gulp down the last of my whiskey and set my empty glass down on the counter.

“I’m only here for my sister’s wedding, and I doubt that will happen every month. For Bill’s sake, I hope not.”

I glance at Bill, who already has his head on the table. Great.

“Well, you can come back even if there’s no wedding, right?” Tucker asks me. “I thought your company was in DC. Isn’t that only an hour away?”

True. But Tucker isn’t getting the point. It’s not that I can’t come home more often. It’s that I have no reason to.

I run my fingers through the side of my glass. “Listen, Tucker, I appreciate the sentiment, but…”

I stop talking as I hear the chime behind me, signaling that there’s another customer. Someone who got the message about the free drinks a little late, maybe?

As I glance over my shoulder, though, I see Aster.

What is she doing here?

“Sorry, Aster,” Tucker tells her. “But no women allowed here tonight. Didn’t you see the sign outside?”

“Oh.” She cranes her neck to try to look out. “Sorry. I didn’t…”

She falls silent as her gaze meets mine. Her eyes grow wide.

“Hey,” I greet her.

“Hey,” she says softly. “I…”

“Bill’s having a stag party,” I explain to her. “That guy over there. Giselle’s fiance. That’s why there are no women allowed.”

“Right.” She tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her with her hair flowing past her shoulders. It looks good on her. It makes her cheeks look softer and her eyes look darker.

And I’m staring.

“I’ll just go,” Aster mutters. “Sorry again.”

She turns on her heel and walks back out the door. I’m off my stool before I know it.

“Hey,” I call after her out on the street. “I’m sure it’s okay if you come in. Bill’s already passed out anyway.”

She stops walking but shakes her head. “No, it’s okay.”

But she’s not. Anyone who walks into a bar alone at eleven is not okay.

“If you want, we can grab drinks somewhere else,” I tell her.

She snorts. “Clearly, you’ve been away for too long. Happy Hermits is still the only bar in town.”

“Oh.”

I thought maybe another bar would have opened in the past few years, but I guess not.

“We can grab drinks from the convenience store and enjoy them at home,” I offer.

Again, Aster shakes her head. “Then my dad would know I’ve been drinking, and I can’t have that.”

“Then we’ll just drink them in the parking lot.”

She walks to her car. “Go back inside, Mason. Good night.”

She opens the door and slips behind the wheel. As she drives off, I grab the back of my neck.

Damn it. I’ve chased after her again. And again to no avail.

I go back to my seat at the bar. My empty glass is still there.

“Pour me another,” I tell Tucker.

He grins. “I thought that’s what you’d say.”

He pours the whiskey.

“Every guy in this town has his eye on Aster Higgins, but no one’s good enough for her.”

And apparently, I’m no different.

“I don’t know what she’s looking for or who she’s waiting for…”

I do.

“But she’d better find it soon. A woman should have a man to take care of her who isn’t her father. That way, she won’t have to come here whenever she can’t sleep.”

I arch an eyebrow. “She comes here often?”

Tucker shrugs. “Once or twice a week. Usually at this time. Usually because she can’t sleep. I’d say it’s because she needs someone to talk to but she doesn’t really talk to anyone.”

Well, that’s a surprise. I didn’t really peg her as a woman who’d resort to drinking alone, but I guess that just tells me how lonely she must be. Noah was right to worry about her. As much as I don’t want to, I do, too.