Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC 8)

“That’s his name, Mia,” I replied.

“It’s a good name,” Lauren commented.

“Great name,” Amy corrected.

“What does his name have to do with me?” I asked the group, doing my best to sound neutral, if anything sounding slightly pissed off.

“It has everything to do with you,” Mia said. “Considering you had the look on your face when you were talking to him.

I frowned. “What look?”

Amy sipped her drink before speaking. “Um, the look. The one where you’re imagining him naked and also fighting against that image because you’re a strong woman and don’t want any man, no matter how hot, to have that kind of control over you.”

All the women nodded in agreement, and I had to fight to keep my expression neutral so they wouldn’t know I agreed. Because that was exactly how I’d felt.

“We’ve all been there,” Lauren added gently.

I drained my drink, standing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to check on my kids, then getting myself another beer, and I am not having this conversation.”

The women let me off the hook. I guessed because they’d already said what they had to say. They’d already planted the seeds. And now they were going to wait. I knew them too well to think anything different.

Which was fine. They could wait for as long as they wanted. Nothing was going to happen with Kace and I.

Nothing at all.Chapter 9It was a school day. Lunch had come and gone. I was in town running errands, groceries, pharmacy, buying things so I could make Lily a costume for the school play. Things I’d done for years. Things I would’ve been doing if Ranger were alive.

Which was what had me walking into a bar before one in the afternoon on a Wednesday.

Amber didn’t have much in the way of bars and restaurants, but there were a decent amount considering the size of our small town. And with Mia’s bed and breakfast with the spa attached gaining national attention, more and more people were flocking to our town.

Laura Maye’s bar was not a dive bar by any stretch of the imagination. It was sleek, trendy and offered a beautiful view of the ocean. If you wanted a dive bar, there were a couple on the outskirts of town where the damned, the lonely and the unemployed drowned their sorrows. I should’ve gone to one of those bars. That was where I belonged. But there were limits on how much I’d let my grief control me.

Laura Maye’s bar wasn’t empty, a few people sat along the windows, taking in the view, having afternoon drinks. Thankfully, I didn’t see any familiar faces, just what I assumed were tourists enjoying the excuse to day drink in a nice bar, in a small town on vacation from their responsibilities for a while.

“Hey there, honey,” Laura Maye said with a smile when I walked up to the bar.

Her hair was piled in a messy bun at the top of her head, curls hanging down in tendrils with glittered barrettes scattered through it. She had on blue eyeshadow that matched the suede mini dress she wore .

“What brought you here to Amber?” I blurted, suddenly desperate to fill my head with someone else’s demons instead of my own.

If she was surprised at the question, she didn’t show it. She grinned, taking some bottles from the bar before pouring them into a cocktail shaker. “Ah, if you want to know the answer to that, we’re both gonna need a drink in our hands.”

“As much as I’d love to say yes, I’ve got to pick up the kids from school. Even one of your cocktails will make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said.

She giggled. “Don’t you worry, sugar. I’m doin’ half strength, and I’ll get Donny in the kitchen to whip us up some jalapeno poppers and nachos to soak it all up.” She winked, calling out to Donny.

Laura Maye made quick work of making the drinks. She was an expert after all. Though she owned the place, she spent a good amount of time behind the bar. People from three towns over knew about her cocktails. This place got packed on the weekends, so there were other bartenders who helped, but she worked hard and constantly. She’d created all of this herself, and even though she could’ve relaxed, letting the place rake in the money, that wasn’t her style. Not at all.

After taking care of the other customers, she sat down beside me, drinks in front of us.

“Now, you’re not the first person to ask me this question,” she said. “Not that our girls are pushy or nosy. They’re curious. Want to know that they’ve got shoulders to cry on if that needs to be done. Vaults to keep their secrets in.” She sipped her drink. “I’ve cried enough tears to know that I won’t need a shoulder for some time. My secrets don’t need to be in vaults exactly, just haven’t been ready to come out into the light. Guess I’ve been waiting for the right time, the right person.”