Twist (Dive Bar 2)

Time to go.

I turned and made straight for my suitcase. Grabbing the plastic handle, I ran back out the door, the cold night air like a well-earned slap in the face. Out on the sidewalk I tripped in the stupid shoes. Then I continued. I walked faster and faster, putting as much distance as possible between me and the whole debacle.

My case rattled and rolled over the asphalt. From top to toe I felt numb. Nonexistent. The first few drops of rain should have passed right through me instead of soaking into the cotton of my borrowed dress.

"Alex," a voice yelled from behind me. A male voice. Him.

It only spurred me onward. No cars or signs of life ahead. The whole world seemed to have emptied out. There was just me, that voice, and the storm.

God, I'd been so wrong to come here. So damn wrong.

What the hell had I done?

CHAPTER TWO

Heterosexual female age 29.

Graphic Artist. Works from home.

Seattle born and bred.

Enjoys reading romance, watching action, sci-fi, and horror movies, and shows about building renovations.

No pets unless the squirrel in the tree outside counts. His name is Marty.

Most prized possession is my laptop. All of my work is on there. Except the backup USB I've entrusted to Marty.

Most proud of establishing and running my own graphic design business.

In five years' time I see myself further developing my business, investing in a property, and dabbling in renovating.

Looking for someone who is employed, artistic, neat and attractive, has a sense of humor.

Looking for a fun night out with a new friend.

Sexual compatibility is important.

Most important value in a relationship is honesty.

Heterosexual male age 28.

Restauranteur.

Northern Idaho born and bred.

Enjoys movies and music.

Most prized possession is family and friends.

Most proud of establishing and running a restaurant/bar business all on my own.

In five years' time I see myself settling down with the woman of my dreams to raise a family in a home we've helped to build with our own hands.

Looking for someone who is attractive.

Looking for someone who is open to developing new friendship starting with a fun night out.

Sexual compatibility is extremely important.

Most important value in a relationship is open-mindedness.

"Alex!" called a deep male voice.

I should have known better than to take a chance. Such an idiot. I should have just stuck to crushing on various men on TV. Much safer. As for Valerie encouraging me to buy the plane ticket and instilling me with all of that false hope, the chances of her being beaten over the head with a wet fish in the near future were exceptionally high. And those bastards. Those heartless, soulless assholes playing me for a fool. Men sucked more than any known creature.

"Hey, hold up." Joe's big hand wrapped around my arm, bringing me to a halt.

I didn't even think, just bared my teeth at him.

"Whoa." He took a hasty step back, setting me free.

"Do not touch me," I said coldly--right as the heavens opened and rain poured down. Awesome. Just awesome.

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Go away." I sucked in a harsh breath. "Joe, Eric, whoever the hell you are, it doesn't matter. Just leave me alone."

Face set, I turned and continued on my way, in whichever direction would take me far from the Dive Bar and those people, as fast as fucking possible.

"Wait, please," he said from behind me. "Alex, you have to let me explain. I know I shouldn't have lied, but Eric was never going to get back to you. I was just going to send a note, telling you not to worry about it. But then I liked talking to you."

"Good for you."

Head down, shoulders drawn in, I trudged on. Strands of wet hair clung to my face, the cold seeping into my bones and making me shiver. I was top heavy on account of the padding in my push-up bra absorbing roughly twenty-one ounces of rain on either side. Dolly Parton didn't have a damn thing on me. And my end-of-season-sale, four-hundred-dollar designer suede shoes were ruined, but there wasn't much I could do about that. The money was already gone from my "hoarding for a dream home" savings account. Yet another reason to hate the guy.

Shelter was required. Shelter, dry clothes, and a large alcoholic drink, in that exact order. Heavy-assed footsteps splashed along beside me as thunder rolled across the dark and cloudy sky.

"Look, I'm sorry you feel let down. I know you're after a pretty boy with all the smooth moves and that's definitely not me," he continued. "You're not exactly my type either, for that matter. No offense."

Douchecanoe.

"But I still think you're great and us being friends, it's a good thing. We support each other, Alex."

I walked faster.

Sadly, with his long legs, the man had no trouble keeping up. "We can talk to each other about anything without any worries about being judged or gossip getting around. I swear, these last few months, you've pretty much been the only thing keeping me sane."

I trotted along as fast as possible, trying to escape him. It still didn't work.

"Fuck. I told you we should put off meeting."

I ground to a halt. "Wait, are you actually trying to turn this around on me?"

"No," he growled. "What I'm trying to do is make a point."

"And what might that be?" I made my mouth a mean line. "Hmm?"

Water dripped off his beard, soaking into the T-shirt already plastered against his body. I suspected he was carrying off the storm-drenched look better than I was. Bastard. Even by streetlight it was obvious he was fit and strong. A big guy. More barrel-chested where his brother was lean. "My point is that we work as friends and that's worth saving. And also, I get that you would not have been interested in talking to me if Eric's photo hadn't been attached. Would you?"

"I guess we'll never know."

"Bullshit."

"Fuck you," I spat straight back at him, stabbing him in the chest with a finger. "You lied to me. Over and over again, you lied. You let me believe you were someone else. Does that really say 'friend' to you? Blame it on your insecurities, your loneliness, sibling rivalry, whatever. I don't care. But you made the choice to do that. Not me. You. The end."

And I meant it. I strode on, leaving him standing there, scowling up a storm. Pun intended.

Lumbersexuals were clearly the worst. Truth was, I'd never been especially into beards. At best, I'd been indifferent. Now, however, I outright despised them. Horrible hairy frames for lying lips and duplicitous tongues, that's what they were. Loathsome whiskery bastards. Burn them all in a fire.

*

"It's late at night in the middle of a storm," Captain Obvious bellowed out after me. "Where are you going, Alex?"

I ignored him and kept walking. Midtown, where the Dive Bar was located, didn't offer many options. A couple of shops, all currently closed. Coeur d'Alene itself, however, was a decent-size place. As soon as I escaped my stalker I'd pull out my cell and call an Uber. Find the nearest hotel or something.

"Downtown's another six blocks. You seriously going to walk all that way in the rain?"

And now I knew I was heading in the right direction.

"At least let me help you with your suitcase."

I gripped the handle of my half-rolling, half-bouncing suitcase harder, and ignored him.

A steady flow of grumbling punctuated by more than the occasional profanity followed along behind me. It was pretty much just him, me, my rattling suitcase, and the sound of the rain. He had to give up and go away eventually. Surely.

But he didn't.

When I at long last trudged up the steps to the Lake Hotel, it was with him still in tow. All the way I'd ignored him. Now he stood, waiting patiently out in the rain, as I entered the building. The place was nice. A glowing fire pit wit

h a leather lounge, and big floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the darkness.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" A polite young man stood behind the front desk, smile frozen in place.

"I'd like a room, please," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. Not easy with me dripping on their tiled floor. Oh, and my legs were splattered with drops of mud. The designer suede heels had turned a sad sort of brown from walking through puddles along the side of the road. Lovely. The cold rain had almost frozen me solid and blisters covered what remained of my feet. I couldn't have felt more sorry for myself. "If you have one available?"

"Of course." It took a moment longer than it should have for his gaze to move from me to the computer. Fair enough. "I have a Classic or we also have a--"

"Does it have a hot shower and a mini-bar?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then I'll take it."

He blinked. "Ah. Yes, ma'am. I'll arrange that for you right now."

I almost wept with gratitude. But the boy behind the desk looked weirded out enough by my sodden self already. Ever so subtly I peeked over my shoulder. The street was empty. He was gone. Phew.

I wondered how long it would take for this whole little adventure to turn into some funny story I told people. Except no part of me was amused. Not even a single cell. My Eric, the beautiful man from the Internet, didn't exist. Not really. Because the guy who'd charmed me with long, rambling emails about life and everything was a liar. And everyone knew, you couldn't trust a liar.