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“Looks like it,” I concede, feeling the playful challenge in his words.
But as the night draws on, the bar begins to empty, leaving behind a silence that speaks volumes.
“Closing time,” I announce, more to myself than to him.
“Need a hand?” Texas offers, standing up and tossing a few bills onto the counter.
“Got it covered.”
“Alright then,” he says, sliding off the stool. He pauses, a small smile playing on his lips. “This was nice, Jane. Real nice.”
“Was it?” I ask, my heart skipping a beat.
“Definitely.”
“Goodnight, Tex,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Goodnight, Jane.” He tips an imaginary hat, then turns toward the door, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dim light.
I watch him go, each step he takes stirring up dust motes in the air like tiny specters of doubt. And just before he reaches the threshold, he stops, looks back over his shoulder, and with a grin that could melt steel, he adds, “See you tomorrow?”
My breath catches, tangled up in the possibility of that word—tomorrow. It hangs there, suspended in the stillness, a single word laden with the weight of everything unsaid.
“Maybe,” I reply, but he’s already gone, leaving me alone with the echo of his presence and a heart that beats a little too fast for comfort.
As I lock up for the night, the chill of the deserted bar settles in my bones. Questions whirl through my mind.
What does he want?
Why me?
Can I afford the risk?
The silence is heavy, filled with the ghost of his smile, and I know sleep will be a stranger tonight. My thoughts are spinning round and round, and as I flick off the lights, plunging the world into darkness, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to change.
CHAPTER 3
JANE
Around me, glasses clink their final toasts and patrons shuffle towards the exit with sluggish steps, the scent of stale beer mingling with lingering whispers of raucous laughter. I wipe down the counter one last time, the rag in my hand sweeping away remnants of spilled secrets and lost inhibitions.
“Looks like you’re about ready to shut this place down, huh?” Ricky’s voice slithers through the dimming light.
“Yes, Ricky,” I acknowledge without enthusiasm.
The clock above the bar ticks loudly, marking the remaining minutes of my shift, each second a heavy footstep closer to freedom.
“Come on, Jane, don’t be like that,” he coos, leaning across the bar with a smirk. His sandy blond hair falls carelessly over one eye.
“Closing time, Ricky. You should head home.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m counting the steps to the door, praying I can slip away without incident.
“Home? Now why would I want to do that when the prettiest girl in town is right here?” His words drip with mock sweetness, and I feel the bile rise in my throat.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
The bar is almost empty now, only a few stragglers who pay us no mind.
“Who said anything about flattery?” Snake interjects from behind Ricky.
