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Right now she needed a nonjudgmental, sympathetic ear, because she’d either screwed up big-time, or… Shit. Rebecca sighed and sat back on the stool. She’d opened a can of worms the night before, and while at the time it had seemed so right, in the harsh light of the day after, she wasn’t so sure.
She’d been in the Coach House for about twenty minutes, and the place was pretty much empty. That would change when the band started up in an hour or so. The regulars would come out even though it was raining buckets outside.
“You want another?” Tiny pointed to the empty glass in her hand.
“No,” Rebecca replied, pushing the glass toward him. “I’ll have a water until Violet gets here.”
She watched the burly man get busy and hid a smile. Tiny’s massive shoulders strained the T-shirt so badly, she was certain it would rip. His bald head shone beneath the overhead lighting, and his thick, fuzzy beard hung nearly two inches past his chin. He looked intimidating as hell but in reality was the one of the kindest men she knew. His heart was as big as his shoulders. Just the previous month, he’d adopted two kittens that needed round-the-clock care, and had spent several long nights bottle-feeding the little guys.
“How are Batman and Robin doing?” she asked, accepting the cold glass.
Tiny laughed, a full-on belly chuckle that lightened Rebecca’s mood instantly. “You mean Batman and Diana. Turns out the little orange one is a girl.”
Rebecca took a sip of water and frowned. “Diana?”
Tiny nodded as he shoved a pitcher under the tap and began to fill it with light amber draft. “Yeah. Wonder Woman was just too much of a mouthful, ya know? So I thought I’d go with Diana since, you know, Diana Prince is her name and all.”
“Makes sense,” Rebecca murmured, smiling at the thought of the big guy cuddling the small kittens.
“What’s the kid up to tonight?”
“Tomorrow’s a teacher work day, so my brother, Mac, and Cain took the boys to the cabin for some fishing before it gets too cold. They left around noon and won’t be back until dark tomorrow.”
“Nice!” Tiny grabbed the jug and two mugs. “I’ll be back in a second.”
“I’m good.”
She watched Tiny deliver the draft to a couple of old guys deep in conversation near the stage, and was just about to check her cell phone when Violet kissed her cheek and slid onto the stool beside her.
“Man, I need a drink.” Violet untwisted the long beige argyle scarf from around her neck and doffed her black leather jacket. “Twins OD’d on sugar after lunch and have been bouncing on the ceiling all day. Your phone call was the excuse I needed to leave them with Adam.”
“What can I get you, darling?” Tiny was back behind the bar.
Violet winked at him, and Rebecca hid a smile as Tiny’s cheeks heated up to a dusky red. “How about a large glass of your best pinot grigio.”
“Really? We’re going to do this again?” Tiny put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “You know we don’t have any of that pinot stuff. I got some sparkly or cider.”
“Well, you should get it,” Violet said, eyeing up the bottles on the shelf behind the bartender. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
“Right. Coming up.”
Tiny had barely moved out of earshot when Violet pressed her hands down onto the bar. “Okay. Spill.”
Rebecca choked on her water and pushed the glass away. Her stomach flipped, and her eyes darted pretty much everywhere else except where her friend sat.
“Becca.” Violet paused as Tiny handed her a glass, then took a big gulp. She waited until Tiny moved down to the end of the bar. “You’re the one who wanted to meet me here, remember?”
“I know,” she replied, meeting her girlfriend’s gaze.
Violet’s eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed, and she shook her head. “You slept with him again.”
No use denying it. “I did.”
“What the hell, Rebecca?” Violet reached for the bowl of nuts and shoved a bunch in her mouth before offering some to Rebecca. “I thought you said you weren’t going there again. If I remember correctly, you said that if you even came close to going where you did fair weekend that I could shoot you with my dad’s old rifle.”
“I know.” Rebecca hunched her shoulders and played with the condensation on her half-empty glass of water. “It’s Julia Roberts’s fault.”
