I nod my head unenthusiastically. “I'm sure they did.”
His eyes sweep over me. Not lingering long enough to be obvious, but long enough for me to notice.
“You look different.”
I give him an annoyed smile. “I got older.”
He chuckles. “I suppose we all did.”
I take another sip of my drink.
“So,” he starts, “what brings you back?”
I shrug. “Family.”
His expression becomes unreadable. “Dangerous reason.”
Something about the way he says it makes me pause. “What do you mean?”
He taps two fingers against the bar. “Some ghosts are better left buried.”
Before I can ask what that's supposed to mean, he pushes away from the counter. “Enjoy your drink.”
He starts to walk away, then stops over his shoulder. “If you need anything while you're in Evergreen Falls,” his smile returns, “the mayor's office is always open.”
I watch him disappear toward the back of the bar. The offer sounds polite, but it doesn't feel that way.
"Blake Jennings,” a voice on the opposite side of the counter snaps me out of my head. “Heard you were back in town.”
I look up and find a man with his hands spread wide and resting on the bar. His dark hair is a stark contrast to his alabaster skin, but his smirk and warm eyes let me know I’m in good company.
Tilting my head, I give him a half smile. “How’s it going, Wes?”
“Can’t complain,” he shrugs and slings a rag over his shoulder. “What can I get you?”
I ramble off the first drink that comes to my mind. “Jack and Coke. Make it a double, please.”
“Can I see some ID?” he asks.
Raising my brows, I tease him. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or if I should be worried that you’re forgetting things in your old age.”
He plays at being offended. “Old age? I’m only in my forties.” Wes sobers his expression. “You know I have to ask.”
In my teenage years, I snuck in here more than once, but Wes always caught me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I return as I fish my license out of my purse and hand it over. He takes a quick peek and returns it to me.
As he makes my drink, he questions, “What have you been up to?”
Glancing down at my hands, I reply, “Oh, you know. This and that. What about you?”
“Well, Gary wanted to retire and travel the country in an RV with his wife, so I bought Timberline from him.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I shake my head at him. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” he says as he slides me a short glass. “Holler at me if you need anything else.”
“Will do.” I nod.
