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“I understand you’re a very good singer. I work with a gal at the clinic who’s heard you sing a few times. I can’t wait to hear you.” A bubble of tension grew inside her.
“Thanks. I like to rock the house.” She turned, and then paused, as if remembering. “Alex just texted me. He told me to tell you he’s running late.”
“He could have texted me.”
“Didn’t get your number. Has the vet number, but not your private cell.”
“I must have forgotten to give it to him.”
“He won’t be much longer. He’s sent me five texts in the last half hour, updating me on his status.” She leaned closer, as if they were conspirators. “He’s communicated more this evening than in the last month.”
“I don’t picture him texting.” In truth, his tardiness gave her a chance to corral nerves that bucked out of reach despite her positive self-talk.
Maybe he’ll be so late you’ll miss each other entirely tonight, fear said. Maybe you’ll have a beer, hear some great music, and go home. No harm. No foul.
Georgia laid her hand on Leah’s arm. “If Alex says he’ll be here, he will.”
“Great.” She watched Georgia cut through the crowd, crack jokes with a few of the men and women, and take her place on center stage. The band behind her was comprised of two guitars, a drummer, and a fiddle player. The fiddle player sawed a few chords of “Fire on the Mountain” as Georgia wrapped her fingers around the mic.
Nestling her mouth close to it, Georgia asked, “You boys and girls ready for some trouble tonight?”
The crowd hooped, hollered, and clapped.
The heat in the room rising, Leah moved toward a coatrack and hung her jacket on a peg. Habit had her recounting the exits in the bar. Only two, and neither was easily reached. Tension rippled through her body. What had her therapist said? Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re going to be fine.
Moving toward an open spot on the bar, she welcomed the task of getting a beer more than the drink itself. Something to hold would make her feel more normal for a second or two. Normal twenty-nine-year-old women held a beer, right? And then, once she got the beer, well, she’d worry about what came next.
As Georgia began a lively tune, a Taylor Swift song about boys and true love, the bartender, KC, caught sight of her almost immediately and lumbered toward her. “What can I get you?”
She smiled because people in lively places like this were supposed to be having a good time and people having a good time smiled. “A beer.”
He picked up a rag from under the bar and wiped the space in front of her. “Bottle or draft?”
“Bottle.”
From a cooler below the bar, he pulled out an iced bottled beer. She watched as he popped the top and set it in front of her. As she reached for money, he shook his head. “Alex said he’d cover the tab when he got here.”
Was everyone watching her? That should have made her feel protected, right? “How do you know I’m here with Alex?”
“He told me to expect a pretty petite brunette. And I saw you talking to his sister.”
He was complimenting her, and compliments prompted smiles. She smiled. “Thanks.”
His deep voice cut through the music. “Alex hates to be late. But that’s the nature of a cop’s job.”
“Makes sense. No schedule for crime and all.”
As Georgia’s voice rose and teased the edges of a high note, KC leaned closer. “He’s a hell of a good cop. Great guy. Bit of a control freak. In a good way of course.”
She sipped her beer, wondering if there was a good kind of control freak. “Of course.”
KC leaned on the bar, in no real rush to move along. “I hear from Georgia that you work at the vet hospital.”
The cold beer tasted good. “For about four months now.”
Beefy fingers swiped over a thick mustache. “What’re you, like a nurse?”
“Like a doctor. I’m a veterinary surgeon.”
A dark brow arched, and she sensed he’d checked off another box on a mental list. “A real animal doctor.”
Grinning, she raised the bottle to her lips. “I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
“Good for you.” A patron at the bar held up an empty glass and called out, but he waved him away. “So how did you and Alex meet?”
“At the clinic. Tracker introduced us.”
KC laughed. “Right. Makes sense. That dog gets around.” He turned to go, then paused. “You know, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
She swallowed a gulp of beer. “I’m not nervous.”
He winked. “I used to be a cop. I know nervous when I see it.”
A direct gaze, she’d been told, conveyed truth and courage. “I’m not nervous. Must be fatigue. I worked a twelve-hour shift today.”
“My mistake.” His tone didn’t sound apologetic. “Your accent sounds like Nashville.”
“Born and raised here. Went to vet school in Knoxville, but as soon as I graduated, I came back home.” Maybe, if she tossed the guy a few easy facts, he’d back off.
“Family?” He kept wiping the very clean bar. Most would see a man making conversation, but cops didn’t just make conversation.
“Mother and father have passed.”
“Sorry to hear that. You got brothers and sisters?”
Smile. Sip the beer. Act normal. “Are you writing a book about me, KC?”
A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Hard to break the cop habits.”
“Right.” He continued to lean toward her, still waiting for an answer.
Leah nodded toward a couple of women at the end of the bar. “You’ve got some thirsty gals over there.”
KC glanced down the bar at a collection of women raising empty beer mugs. “No rest for the wicked.”
No truer words. “So they tell me.”
“Back to work.”
She tipped the beer bottle’s neck toward him. “Good to meet you, KC.”
He saluted. “You too, Dr. Leah.”
She faced the stage and watched as Georgia sang and swayed to the music. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand, and Leah envied her command of the room.
A tap on her shoulder had her jumping, and she turned to see a tall gal with dark brown hair. She had a full, smiling face and a sharp gaze. Dressed in black, a thick chain around her neck dipped between the hollow of her breasts.
Leah smiled, relaxing. They’d bumped into each other at the front door minutes earlier, but Deidre had made a beeline for the ladies’ room. “Deidre.”
“I see you’re all settled in. Cold night.”
“Nice in here.”
Leah had met Deidre Jones a couple of months ago at the gym. They’d become friends, and when Deidre had suggested Leah join a marathon training group, she’d agreed. This New Year was about making new choices. Living. Taking full breaths. And having a friend was nice. “What brings you here tonight?”
Deidre grinned. “Got a date tonight.”
“A date?”
She winked, like a normal, happy woman would. “Nice to play and not work.”
“Still running in the morning?”
“If the date doesn’t go too late, I’ll be there.”
“So is that a yes or a no?” Grinning, she mimicked Deidre’s pointed look when Leah waivered on a run date.
Deidre tipped the top of her bottle toward Leah in a touché kind of salute. “It’s a yes.”
“Good. Always more fun when you’re there.”
Leah searched around. “Where is this date?”
“In the head. He’ll be right back. Just wanted to say hi again.”
The familiar face loosened a few knots. “Thanks.” A man approached behind Deidre. Tall, blond. “Is that David Westbrook from our running group?”
“Yep.” She grinned. “But don’t tell anyone in the group. I don’t need a lot of shit about it. My soon-to-be ex-husband will just make more trouble.”
Deidre had spoken of her divorce to
Leah a few times. She hadn’t used the word stalking, but Leah had recognized the pattern. She’d offered suggestions that Deidre had brushed aside. “Sure.”
David grinned as he wrapped an arm around Deidre. “Leah. See you in the morning?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Great.”
“See you.” Deidre hooked her arm in David’s and the two vanished into the crowd.
