“Rusty Spike?” I greeted Van, who’d been tending bar there longer than I’d been old enough to order.
“Well, hey there, Van!” Van mocked as I slid onto a stool. “Have you lost weight, Van? Ain’t seen you for the whole second half of football season, Van. How’s the hockey going tonight, Van?” He leaned toward me. “I’ll give you that one for free—Habs are losing, thank the bugle.”
I snorted. “I’m betting they’re losing because Montreal couldn’t score a goal if they were the only ones on the ice, but sure. It’s your good-luck bugle.Nowcan I have a?—?”
“Hey!” Van slapped his towel against the bar near my hands. “Respect the bugle, Sunday. That fucker’s been hanging there for two hundred years as a symbol of unity, good fortune, and friendship. It’s our town’s greatest treasure. It’s the reason this bar exists!”
“I apologize,” I said solemnly. “I’m in a shit mood, but I shouldn’t take it out on…” I waited a beat before finishing. “The bugle.”
“Hmph.” Van filled a glass from a giant beverage dispenser filled with reddish-orange liquid that I knew contained whiskey… and an incredibly dangerous something that made the whiskey not taste like whiskey. “You folks are starting early tonight. You’re lucky I made a triple batch for after the town meeting.”
“Yep.” I was already busily sucking down the tangy beverage. There was something apple-y about it. Maybe lemony too. “That’s me. Lucky.”
As I drank, I surveyed the bar. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in here without my brothers or Jack, or even Amanda back in the day. What did people do in bars when they didn’t have a friend to talk to?
There weren’t many faces I recognized, which was probably good because it meant there were lots of tourists, but was also weird because I was used to knowing most people in town.
A table of women in the middle of the room cheered at something on the television, and one of them—a pretty blonde in a pink snow hat—gave me an up-down look and a flirty smile.
Oh, right. That was what people did in bars.
I licked my lips, and my cock perked up at the idea of getting some action that didn’t involve my right hand for the first time since my divorce.
Her smile turned into a wink in my direction, and my palms went a little damp, nerves warring with anticipation. I hadn’t flirted with anyone in a long time, and I forgot how this was supposed to go.
Or maybe I’d never really known.
“You know, Webb,” Van continued, apropos of nothing. “The thing about the bugle is, it’s misunderstood.”
“Oh?” I murmured as Van refilled my glass. I hoped he didn’t think I was listening.
The woman kept sneaking covert glances at me from under her lashes, making my blood fire for reasons that had nothing to do with fucking Luke fucking Williams and his ice-cream-robbing, land-thieving, apple-grubbing, son-stealing treachery, and I was very willing to let myself be distracted.
Her long, blonde hair looked really, really soft, and I’d bet anything it smelled like coconut shampoo.
My dick twitched in my pants. I apparently had good feelings about coconut shampoo.
“… so already it had a legendary past,” Van was saying. “But the bugle truly became symbolic when Barnaby Sunday fell in love with Moriah Pond, the most beautiful girl in the Hollow. Her father wouldn’t consent to the marriage, because Barnaby was but a lowly sheepherder with only a small parcel of land?—”
My attention was caught momentarily. “People who like sheep areweird,” I pronounced.
And that was just a known fact, which had nothing to do with Luke Williams and his sheep, since I was very much not thinking about Luke Williams anymore, and especially not tonight.
I held out my glass for a refill.
“Yeah. Okay.” Van filled it up. “Anyway, as I was saying, these star-crossed lovers were doomed by Moriah’s father, who didn’t trust Barnaby’s motives for getting married and wanted to protect his daughter. The entire town’s loyalty was divided. But there was a kindly preacher in town who wanted to help. He gave them the bugle?—”
I darted another covert glance at the woman and caught her looking back at me. She seemed interested, but I had no idea what to do with that. Did she want me to make a move? And did that mean sending her a drink or something? Was that what people did? It all seemed like so much damneffort.
And I could imagine my siblings’ old-age comments if they ever heard me say that.
I had never been more aware of the fact that nearly all my dating experience prior to this had been with Amanda, who I’d known since we were in elementary school. Things between us had just sort of… happened when we were in our twenties. And then kept happening.
“—and so, on account of the Unity Bugle, the law was handed down that two people who’d pledged their troth on the towngreen and proven their commitment to one another would be joined, no matter who had somethin’ bad to say about it. Peace and unity were restored to the town. Moriah and Barnaby lived happily ever after. And the spirit of goodwill, good fortune, and good friendship remains in the bugle to this very day!” Van sniffed and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.
“Uh.” I peered at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Fine,” he choked. “It’s just so beautiful, you know? The bugle story. Like a fairy tale.”
