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He sounded so calm. So perfectly reasonable. It made her want to throw something heavy at his head.
“I’m not ready to go in there. Now unlock the fucking car.” Most of that came out between clenched teeth.
“Addison—”
“Don’t talk to me like you think I’m crazy.”
He took a slow, calming breath before trying again. “I don’t think you’re crazy. In fact, I think what you’re feeling right now is to be expected.”
She’d been gearing up to yell at him some more, but that stopped her up short. She studied his face for several seconds, searching for the trick, the catch. Coming up empty, she asked, “Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that this feeling won’t go away just by waiting until tomorrow to walk in there. In fact, it’ll probably get even worse.”
She glared daggers at him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The longer you build this up in your mind, the harder it’ll be.”
Letting her hand unclench from around the handle, she crossed her arms over her stomach instead. She hated it when he made sense. “What if he’s terrible?” she whispered, fighting to hold back tears.
“Then I’ll throw some cash on the bar to cover our drinks and we’ll leave.” Mason walked toward her slowly, like he was afraid she might bolt or lash out if he moved too fast. “You don’t even have to speak to him if you don’t want. You can sit there and watch while I do the talking. That’s totally up to you.” He ran gentle fingers along her upper arms until her muscles slowly unclenched, and she let her arms fall to her sides.
Addison closed her eyes, taking several slow, deep breaths. “I have your word?” she demanded once she got a handle on the worst of her panic. “As long as I go in there and meet him, we can leave as soon as I want? You’ll unlock the car this time?”
“You have my word.”
It took nearly a full minute after that, but finally she managed a single step forward, then another.
“Good girl,” Mason said, lacing his fingers through hers, lending his strength through her trembling hand. He led her toward the squat stucco building and its neon sign spelling out Frank’s Bar. Though the k and second r were both out, so it actually said Fran ’s Ba.
Run! The word cycled through her mind with increasing urgency, but she only tightened her grip on Mason’s hand. Together, they stepped through the door and into her father’s bar.
For a town with a population under a thousand people, it was a hopping place. Especially for a Tuesday. Most of the barstools were taken, and a small group surrounded the ancient pool table to one side.
“That’s him,” Mason murmured in her ear.
Addison had pointedly looked anywhere except behind the bar from the moment they entered the room. But Mason’s words drew her gaze like a moth to a flame.
Steve Redford looked exactly like the pictures on the Facebook page for Frank’s Bar. Kind eyes. Disarming Dennis Quaid smile. Hair just a little too long, like he never had time to get it cut.
Hell, he even had on the same faded T-shirt he wore in several of the photos, black with a salmon-pink Frank’s embroidered over the left side of his chest.
“We should go sit down before people start looking at us,” Mason said, nothing but kindness in his voice. “Let’s stick to the plan and act natural.”
Act natural, she thought as she strolled up to the bar on wobbly legs. That’s it, just act natural and stop staring at the bartender like he’s your long-lost fucking father.
Less than a minute after Mason helped her up onto her barstool, Steve moved down the bar to stand in front of them. “What can I get for you two weary travelers?” he asked with a smile.
Up close, she realized his eyes were the exact same shape and color as hers, right down to the specks of gold. Holy fucking shit, she couldn’t breathe.
Reaching across to lay his hand over hers on her lap, Mason gave Steve a small smile. “How can you tell we’re travelers?”
“Well, for one thing, I’ve lived here all my life and never laid eyes on you before.” He placed two cocktail napkins on the bar, sliding one toward each of them. “And forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look like the kind of people who would move to a place like this.” He eyed Mason’s finely tailored suit with a little chuckle.
Mason tried to match the chuckle, but it came out hollow and fake. Though Steve didn’t seem to notice, so perhaps she only felt that way because she’d heard his true laugh before. “Fair enough. My girlfriend and I are on vacation. We’ll be here for a few days before we move on to Arizona.”
“Well, welcome to the only bar in Cedar Crest. What’ll it be?”
Addison paid exactly zero attention as Mason ordered their drinks, studying the lines of her father’s face, the movements of his hands, the way he walked. Searching for some additional connection. For anything else that screamed this man provided half your DNA.
