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The place was busy, with a thirty-minute wait for a table, so Grace opted to sit at the bar. Aware of the many eyes on her, she kept her head down and took the last stool in the far corner.
“Would you like a menu?” It was the man she remembered from when she’d been in before.
“Yes, please.” Mustache guy nodded and grabbed one from under the bar.
“Anything to drink?” he asked, throwing a towel over his shoulder and offering up a kind smile.
He was big, muscular and burly, and not really what you’d expect a bartender to look like in a place like this—a biker bar maybe, but not a roadhouse style eatery.
“Sure,” she replied. She wasn’t driving so what the hell. “Surprise me.”
“Surprise you,” he repeated. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Grace turned slightly so that she faced the window and could ignore the curious looks thrown her way from the main room of the bar. She took a few minutes to study the menu and found that it was surprisingly varied—from salmon and steak to burgers and deep fried pickles. The only problem was that nothing stood out to her, and she was going to assume it had more to do with the state of her head than the fact that she wasn’t all that hungry.
The bartender approached and she glanced up with a shrug. “Can you recommend something? I’m not sure what to order.”
He placed a cocktail in front of her and frowned. “Seems you’re not sure about much tonight.”
He was right on the money. “And that’s why I have you helping me out.” Grace grabbed her drink and took a sip, surprised at the sweet and tangy taste. “This is good. What is it?”
“Family secret I’m afraid.”
“Just my luck.”
“I’m Duke by the way. I own this place.”
Now it made sense. Biker guy wasn’t really a biker guy after all.
“Grace.”
“I know.” But that shouldn’t surprise her, should it? It was a small community and it wasn’t as if any of the Simons were exactly low profile—even when they tried to be. Heck, everyone in the damn place probably knew who she was and where she’d been spending her time.
Just thinking of Matt made her stomach churn and she reached for her glass. She needed a distraction.
“He’s a tough nut to crack,” Duke said slowly.
She took another sip. “Malibu rum?”
He shook his head. “Nice try though.” He paused. “You okay?”
Grace shrugged and pushed a napkin around for a few seconds, wiping up some of the moisture from her glass. “Have you known Matt long?”
“His whole life.”
She took another sip and let the cool liquid settle over her taste buds. “Are you sure there’s no Malibu rum in this?”
He shook his head. “No Malibu Rum.”
“Has he always been so…so hard?”
Duke was silent for a few seconds. “Matt is not easy. Like I said, I’ve known him his entire life, but I don’t know him. He doesn’t let folks in. I doubt even Betty Jo Barker could tell you what really makes the guy tick.” He wiped at some invisible spot of grime on the bar. “My experience with people like Matt is that usually there’s a reason why they are the way they are.”
Grace exhaled and grabbed up her glass. “So, is that pineapple juice I taste?”
“Close,” Duke said with a smile.
She took another sip and considered her next question. Considered if she should ask it. And before she could stop herself it sort of slipped out.
