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How had he done that? He brought out conflicting emotions. Made her feel so uncomfortable, so annoyed, so . . . hot. Hannah had told her about hate screwing. Apparently, people who didn’t like one another still hooked up, and it was supposed to be intense and fun. Hot, even. Hot being a key word in Laura’s world lately. Because she was either raging hot or freezing cold . . . both of which were Jacob’s fault.
Yep, time for a drink.
She got out of her car and walked around to Main Street. Yachats, Oregon, on a Friday night wasn’t exactly hopping. It was, however, alive. The cobblestone sidewalk was the same as she remembered, a light gray stone that always seemed a bit damp from the sea breeze. The ocean crashed in the background and was only 172 steps from the town square. She knew because she’d counted when she was eight. Nothing had changed, and it felt like home.
The salt in the air was comforting, and for a moment, she could feel her mother’s voice on the wind. She was home. Now she just had to keep it that way. It took effort to thrive. And that’s what she’d do.
She opened the door to Goonies, the local bar, and took two steps inside. She would have taken three, but Hannah’s loud screech stopped her, and the black-haired beauty was sprinting from behind the bar and straight at her.
“Look at you!” Hannah said, hustling to Laura with spread arms. “I’ve missed you!”
Hannah all but crashed into her, and Laura felt so much love in the one hug.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Laura said and hugged her friend. Even though she’d been in California the past ten years, they had stayed close over Skype and the phone. Hannah had visited a handful of times and was her best friend since birth. No distance would ever change that. Laura’s father never came out to California despite Laura offering to buy his ticket. So she was grateful she had Hannah.
“So you work here now?” Laura said, looking around.
“Yep, hoping to do more than just work here one day. Maybe own,” Hannah said, looking around with pride. The place was rustic and fun. Smelled like roasted peanuts and saltwater taffy and beer. Ah, a bar on the ocean. Some smells never changed.
“You didn’t have to dress up for me,” Hannah said, looking her over. Hannah was in a tank top and ripped jeans and a black lap apron.
Laura looked down the front of herself. Sleek black pants paired with her last and now the only pair of heels she owned—which were bright red. Gotta love getting cleaned out in a divorce. Truth was, she was happy to start fresh. She hadn’t entered the marriage with much, and she’d left it just the same. She didn’t want her ex or his money or any ties to him. Which was why she’d walked away. But her outfit had her second-guessing how long she’d been gone. She thought a white top was casual, Friday-night evening wear. It was back in California. But judging by the crowd, she was wrong about her outfit. Very, very, wrong.
“I, ah . . .” Laura felt the sudden sense that while a lot hadn’t changed around Yachats—including the pool table off to the left, the massive open space near the corner stage where local bands came in to play, and even the LIFE’S A BEACH sign made of green paint and distressed wood hanging in the same place—she had, and it was her old small-town self she was trying to re-find.
“You look great,” Hannah said and clasped her hand. “Come have a drink.” She walked behind the bar and started refilling the cups of the patrons while Laura took a minute to look around. Wood floors that creaked with every step like a song. Ocean themes, like antique harpooning gear and shark teeth, scattered on the walls. She’d missed this place. Casual and simple and home.
But the longer she stood there, the more she felt out of place. Odd since it was home and yet felt so distant. Maybe she was more lost in her life than she’d thought.
Despite the country music blaring from the jukebox, she heard mumbles of her last name being thrown around. People around here apparently remembered who she was—or rather, whose daughter she was. But it was a small town. People usually knew of everyone at the very least.
Clearing her throat and deciding that she’d made it this far, she moved to get that drink. She walked to the bar counter, keeping her eyes forward as a woman with teased bangs and a leopard-print tank top stared her down.
She flashed a smile, and leopard woman smiled back. Brightly.
“Hi there, honey,” the woman said. She closed the few steps between them with intent strides, make her triple Ds shake and sway as she yanked Laura in for a hug.
Okay, so that was a fail in the politeness department, and Laura had no idea what to do. She couldn’t do much of anything other than inhale the unmistakable scents of spandex and White Diamonds perfume. The overly nice and apparently personal-space-unaware stranger was concerning, because the hug was lasting way longer than social norms would dictate.
“You are just gorgeous!” the woman said, clasping Laura’s shoulders and shoving her back to look her over. Laura felt like a rag doll next to the voluptuous woman intent on pawing at her. “My God, you look nothing like your father. So you must look like your mother. Wonderful woman, I’m told. I wish I could have known her.”
“Ah, thank you?” Laura said. “Forgive me, but have we met?”
“Not officially until right now,” the woman said happily. Her kind eyes had small lines at the corners from years of big smiles. Laura had to guess she was in her fifties. “I’m Roberta. Your father’s lady friend.”
Laura’s eyes shot wide. But before she could say anything, the woman yanked her in for another hug.
“He is just tickled to death that you’re back in town!” Again she released Laura but kept a tight hold on her arm. “Me and my Lusty Ladies group was going to come down to the flower shop next week to welcome you properly, but when I got wind that you’d be here tonight, I just couldn’t wait. Do you like coconut?”
Laura worked double time to process all the information and questions Roberta had thrown at her. First, her father was pushing seventy and dating this woman who . . . sure, seemed nice, but wasn’t his type. Or was she? Hell, she had no idea! But between the leopard print, the bosom, and the suffocating hugs, she had to find her brain. Because Roberta clearly knew about her, the flower shop, and—
“Forgive me, did you say Lusty Ladies group?”
“Yes!” Roberta pulled her in like she was telling a secret. “My friends and I read all those dirty romance novels and such and talk about it. It’s like a book club, only the steamier the better.” She winked. “We’re starting a new series next week. Cowboy with kink. Esther is bringing Chex Mix, and there’s always wine.”
Okay, Laura was officially lost somewhere between cowboy, kink, and trail mix. But one thing was certain, Roberta was . . . nice. Eccentric and chatty, but genuinely nice. Laura realized she hadn’t gotten a minute to process that her father was even dating, much less going to live with this woman—oh, and he’d sold the house—and now, it was all hitting at once. But she couldn’t bring herself to dislike Roberta. She wanted her father happy and, well, Roberta seemed at the very least that she could match his crazy, so that was a plus.
