Page 4 of Hearts at War

Either life of solitude suited me just fine.

“Give it up. Or at least give us a night to just watch the game in peace,” Gavin said as he pulled his beer bottle closer.

Lila growled lightly and sulked off.

I chuckled and patted him on the back. “Thanks.”

“Damn, dude.” He shook his head and laughed a bit. “They flock up to you every damn time we come here now.”

I sighed, not bothering to argue. Through no effort of my own, I was a magnet for the ladies. I wasn’t smug about it. I wasn’t cocky either. I did, however, realize that I was one of the few unmarried, single men in this same town and the pickings were slim for the ladies looking for a good time. A good time without trying to piss off a wife or girlfriend. Some of them did that just out of spite. Drama had to be orchestrated around these parts, but I supposed boredom was like that. A curse or a blessing.

“If your house wasn’t so full of babies and kids, we could watch the games there...”

“Yeah. Right. We’ve got my sister’s kids staying with us for the rest of the month yet while they rebuild from the tornado over there.”

“Then drink up.” I held my beer to his for him to clink his against it in something like a toast. “And relax here while you can.”

“Relax?” He eyed another woman checking me out from the other end of the bar. “With all the chicks coming to try with you?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already slept with everyone I would want to.” And that was only on my terms. As flings. Nothing attached, nothing permanent. The last time I thought I’d have something permanent with a woman didn’t end so well. Veronica and I divorced four years ago, and it had been hell ever since.

“Ah, the freedom,” Gavin taunted dryly.

I shrugged, dismissing his teasing. He was happily married, but I didn’t envy his situation. As far as I was concerned, marriage was a hex. A damnation. I wasn’t in any mood to try it again. Nor was I in the mood to have a second taste of someone I’d already sampled. That was all sex was at this rate. A physical release. A bodily reaction. Being a bachelor was a simple lifestyle for me, and I was damned protective of my privacy and solitude.

“Maybe you should just make up some bullshit about having a girlfriend somewhere. So they all stop bugging you for a while.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” I drank my beer, wishing this commercial break would end.

He scoffed. “Hell, we’ve gotten plenty of that lately.”

“You can say that again.” We’d pulled twelve-hour shifts today.

We’d only gotten here an hour ago, but I was already beat. Once halftime hit, I’d head home. The days were long and hard, and lately, with this insomnia, the nights were too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a solid night of restful sleep, but staying out here at the only local bar in town wouldn’t be a wise way to try to get some decent shut-eye.

“And with all those miles of fencing we still need to—”

Gavin shut up, turning his head in unison with me toward the front door. Despite the chill clinging in the air with the October weather, the old wooden panel was pushed to stay wide open to the bar. It helped with the sometimes too-warm air in here with the body heat and temperamental furnace.

Shouts cut through the noise of people drinking and chatting. Accusations sounded loud and clear over the general din in the bar. No one heard the sports commentators. Nobody seemed to care about anything but getting an earful of the commotion outside the door.

“I just got here,” a woman shouted outside the bar. It sounded like it came from in front of the bakery next door.

“What’s that all about?” I asked Gavin.

He shook his head, furrowing his brow as he stared at the open door. No one showed in the opening. Just the darkness of the night was visible. Lights flickered from the streetlamp on the opposite side of Main. Regardless of not being able to witness this fight out there, my curiosity was piqued.

“It’s your place now,” Jerry yelled outside.

“How can it be my place?” the woman asked. “I just got here and haven’t signed a damn thing yet.”

“Oh. I see. You think you’re some fancy city woman. All proper and legal with special documents and shit.” Jerry snickered.

“A rental lease isn’t a special document,” she snapped back. “It’s a standard agreement for any rental.”

“What rental is this woman talking about?” Gavin asked. With a glance at me and one last long pull on his beer, he stood. “Come on, let’s go see.”

I winced, not really caring about whatever crap Jerry was trying to pull now. He was Burton’s local conman. A scammer. The nicest thing I could call him was a weasel, always out to make a buck wherever he could find a loophole. By day, he called himself a landlord of several rundown properties in town, too stubborn to ever fix them up. At night, he gambled online, boosting of “big” wins.