Captivated (Whiskey Run 2)

1

Heather

The bus hits a pothole, and I jerk awake. I can’t believe I fell asleep on a two-hour bus ride, but I’d been exhausted. The sign says Whiskey Run, and I smile at the quaint looking town. It looks like the bus is going to drop us off right in the middle of downtown.

The driver stops, and I get up, waiting for the others to get up too, but then discover that I’m the only one getting off at this stop. Maybe I should have picked Jasper. It was the same amount of money, but I liked the name of this town better. Obviously, my instincts are not very good if a busload of around forty people are going to Jasper instead of Whiskey Run. I grab my bag, thank the bus driver, and take a step off the bus. There’s another sign in front of me, and I almost get right back on the bus. It says Whiskey Run, Home of Blaze Whiskey. Picking the town that makes my father’s favorite whiskey is definitely a bad omen. But before I can change my mind, the doors shut behind me, and the bus takes off.

I don’t have any money and don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve never had a cell phone, and I left most of my things behind except grabbing a few changes of clothes and my toothbrush. All I know is I need a shower and would love some food, but the first item of business is to find a job.

I walk toward the center of town and stop to stare up at the Sugar Glaze Bakery sign. I do know how to bake so maybe, just maybe, they could be hiring.

I inhale deeply as I walk in, and my stomach grumbles at the same time. The woman behind the counter smiles real big at me, and I automatically smile back. “Hi. Uh, my name is uh, Heather. Can you tell me if you’re hiring?” The fake name sort of just comes out. I may have the police looking for me and if I use my real name, they’re going to find me fast. I obviously didn’t think this through though. How the heck am I going to get a job with a fake name?

“I’m sorry, sweetie. We’re not hiring.”

I smile and thank her. I turn to walk out the door and she stops me. “Try over at Red’s Diner. They may be hiring. Ask for Violet.”

“Great. Thank you so much.”

I walk down the sidewalk and spot the diner. It’s a decent size restaurant and looks to be busy. All I can do is hope and pray they’re hiring.

I swing open the door, and the bells above the door ring. It seems like everyone in the restaurant turns to look, and I barely stop myself from running back out the door.

“Have a seat anywhere you can find one,” a woman at the counter hollers at me.

I walk up to her. “Excuse me, are you Violet?”

She looks at me as if she’s trying to place me. I could tell her to give up, there’s no way she knows me. I’ve never been out of Mutton Hollow before. I’ve definitely never been to Whiskey Run. “Yeah, I’m Violet.”

“Hi. I’m Heather Bates. I went to the Sugar Glaze Bakery to apply for a job but they weren’t hiring. They suggested I come here.”

She’s about to tell me no. I can feel it, heck, I can see it in the downturn of her face. “Well, Heather, it’s nice to meet you. Have a seat. What can I get you to eat?”

I look at a woman’s plate down the counter from me. I can almost feel my mouth watering. It pains me to say it, but I do it anyway. “Oh, I’m not going to eat.”

But Violet doesn’t seem to like my answer. “I’ll be running around, and it will actually make me feel less guilty during our talk if you are eating than just sitting here waiting on me. What about a burger and fries?” Before I can even answer her, she asks another question. “You want everything on it?”

I stare back at her, unsure of what to do, but my goodness a hamburger sounds good right now. “Uh, no onion.”

“I got it. And a milkshake too? You like strawberry?” she asks as she writes it all down on the pad in her hand.

I nod, and she walks away to put the order in. “I’ll be right back,” she says over her shoulder.

I look around the restaurant. I haven’t been in one since I was sixteen, and it doesn’t seem like things have changed a lot. I look around at the people all laughing and talking. Scanning the room, I stop on a man that is eating by himself just a few booths away. He’s handsome. Probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Mid-thirties and I’m assuming a cowboy by the hat he’s got on the seat next to him. I raise my eyes from the brown Stetson, wanting to get just another look and my eyes find that the owner of the Stetson is staring back at me. His eyes are a light blue, but they seem to darken as he stares back at me. I slam my mouth shut when I realize it’s hanging open and turn real quick to stare at the plastic mat in front of me. I pick up the napkin and start tearing it into tiny pieces—anything to keep myself from looking at him again.