The Player Next Door

Becca frowns, hesitates. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I did, but he left me for another girl.”

“She’s joking,” I say quickly as Becca’s eyes widen with shock. “His name is Bill and he’s amazing. Justine has been in love with him for years. He’s in Boston with his daughter this weekend.”

“Not years,” Justine corrects, waggling her finger in the air. “I did not love him during those years that he was with that snake, Debra.”

“They’re getting married soon,” I continue, ignoring her.

Justine rolls her eyes but the playful smile emerges after a few beats. She won’t admit it, but I know she’s anxiously awaiting a proposal. Unfortunately for her, Bill is a bit gun-shy after his first disastrous marriage.

“Oh, this sounds like a juicy story.” Becca sucks back a large gulp of her drink, settles onto her elbows, and asks in a singsong voice, “So, tell us, how’d you meet?” It’s a prompt for a get-to-know-you conversation if I’ve ever heard one. And it’s a smart move—if there’s one thing Justine could talk about for hours, it’s the saga that is her and Bill’s love story.

“Well … I’ve known him since I was three …”

I listen absently as Justine regales Becca with the history of her crush on her older brother’s best friend—I could tell it myself, I’ve heard it so many times—while I search the faces around the bar. I don’t recognize anyone, based on a cursory scan. But I’ve been gone more than a decade, I remind myself. People come and they go. People change. I’ve changed.

This town has definitely changed. We never had a place like this when I was growing up—one of the reasons I knew I had to get out as soon as I could. Options were the Patty Shack, McTavish’s Pub—my mother’s favorite—Luigi’s, and a handful of fast-food pizza joints and café-type shops. For an adult in search of a fun night with a club-like atmosphere, you were wrangling a DD to take you into Philadelphia, more than an hour away.

But Route Sixty-Six has changed that, and it appears people appreciate it. There’s a mix of ages in here tonight. Some are younger than me by eight or nine years, barely legal to drink. Others have graying temples and heavy lines marring their foreheads. If tonight is any indication, this place isn’t going to have trouble staying in business.

An electric guitar strikes a few solo chords and then, without any sort of “Hey, how’s everyone doin’ tonight” introduction, the band goes straight into an Imagine Dragons cover. A round of claps erupt as people pivot their attention toward the singer. I’m riveted by the rich, melodic voice that doesn’t match his unkempt appearance.

A heavy body suddenly drops into the empty spot beside me, making me jump.

“Thank God! I was worried I wouldn’t have a seat.” Shane nods to the band. “They’re good, huh?”

“What are you doing here?” I blurt, unable to hide the surprise from my voice as I take in the pleasant sight of him.

“Meeting the guys for a beer.” He smirks, studying my face. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. But I thought you were working this weekend.” Can he tell that my pulse has gone from normal to racing in an instant?

“Tomorrow morning. Hey.” He nods to Becca across from us and then leans in to grin at Justine, tucked into the corner of the booth beside me. His arm brushes against mine in the process and cool droplets of rain coating his forearm dampen my skin. “Hey, Scarlet’s cute friend from Boston.”

“Hi, Scarlet’s Sexy Neighbor,” she throws back, never one to shy away from flirtatious banter.

I elbow her in the ribs as I slide over to put space between Shane and me. Seriously, Becca’s the only one on her side of the booth. There’s way more space. Why didn’t he dive in there?

“Looks like it’s raining pretty bad out there?” Becca stares at him with eager, excited eyes. They’re practically sparkling. If Becca stared at him like that when Penelope was around, it’s not a surprise the Red Devil thought she was after him.

“Yeah, it’s pouring. I got soaked in the twenty seconds it took to get from my truck to the door.”

I steal a sideways glance to see him pick at the damp cotton of his black T-shirt clinging to his chest. “When’d you guys get here?” He looks to me for an answer.

“Not long ago.”

He pushes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back some, as he surveys the bar area, his attention stalling on the band. “These guys always draw a crowd.”

“I was just thinking how good the singer is …” My voice drifts as a tall man appears beside Shane, dropping a hand on his shoulder.

“You made it!” Shane says, exchanging a quick, friendly handshake.

“It’s shitty out there.” The new guy’s murky green eyes flip to me and a familiar, impish grin spreads across his face. “Bex told me you were back.”