Page 10 of The Detour

“And why would I need that?”

“Because that’s where I’ll be, and since taking your eyes off me is proving to be a challenge for you, it’ll give you the best vantage point.” My grin is wide as I turn and walk down said length of the bar and give her a good look at my ass she was staring at earlier.

Harley Humbug.

Of all the gin joints in town, she picks this one.

Then again, that old saying doesn’t hold water.

We are the only gin joint. Hell, we’re the only joint whatsoever.

5

Harley

I take the table that's one side chairs, one side booth, because it’s the only one, not because it gives me an incredible view of Saint.

There’s no way I’d give him the satisfaction.

I tell myself this all the while his expression from when I told him I wanted to be held against the wall and kissed senseless replays over and over in my mind.

I wasn’t exactly lying, but I was more so saying it for shock value.

The problem is that Saint’s response wasn’t what I was expecting, and now I’ve superimposed the faceless man I wanted to kiss me, then bed me, with his.

And it’s not a bad fantasy to be had.

Too bad I made a promise to myself. One I intend to stick to.

Pulling my laptop and notebook out of my bag, I glance his way. He looks up at the same time, and our eyes meet. That arrogant smirk that he caught me looking owns his face.

His very handsome face.

“Ugh,” I groan. I don’t need this distraction right now. Not in the least.

I open my laptop, as I’ve done so many times over the past few weeks, to see the blinking cursor.

It’s just romance. It’s just words that end with sex. Write it, Harley. Write about two people connecting again after so long.

Write about two wrongs and making them right again.

With a deep breath, I place my fingers on the keys, but this time, I have thoughts. Thoughts that manifest into words. Words that are considerably coherent.

And I’m not even the littlest bit ashamed that art is imitating life as I type.

“I knew you’d be back.”

I look up and meet the eyes of the only man I’ve ever loved . . . and the only man I’ve ever let break my heart. Luke. He’s tall, rugged, with a rough cut jaw, full lips, and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that tell me he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him over the past year.

“Of course, I’d be back. For work. For my family. This is my home.” I chuckle to hide the hurt seeing him causes. “But not for you.” I all but choke on the lie as every part of me wants to fist my hands in his shirt and pull his mouth to mine.

“And yet you came here, knowing I’d be here.” He angles his head to the side and studies me. All six foot three of him owns the space behind the bar. The bar his family has owned for over fifty years.

“Old habits die hard.” I take a sip of the glass of wine he slides across the bar and wonder why I did in fact come here.

But I know.

Haven’t I known since the minute I left here with visions that I was destined for greatness in Hollywood, that I’d be back? That the time away would only reinforce the one thing I knew for certain? That Luke Wethers was the love of my life, even if he didn’t believe he was.