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“Maybe you have, and you don’t remember.” She’s flirting, which puts me on guard.
Normally she shuts men down immediately with a biting insult. The fact she’s toying with him makes me wonder what she’s up to.
“I’d remember.”
We continue walking. His hands are shoved in the front pockets of his tight black jeans, and he scuffs beside her in a pair of enormous combat boots.
She pushes a long silver curl behind her ear and blinks at him. “What’s your name?”
“Joshua.”
Hearts are in his eyes, and I pull out my phone. I pretend to check my messages, but the truth is, I only message Roland and Evie. I had to block Mark’s number, which broke my heart, but not nearly as much as the texts he kept sending.
Don’t do this…
Come back to me…
I love you…
My eyes squeeze shut against the pain.
“Joshua.” Molly says his name as if testing it on her tongue. “I’m Maggie and this is my cousin Lucy.”
“Maggie May,” he spreads his arms wide.
“Umm, sure.” Molly’s brow lowers, and I know she doesn’t get the reference. “So you’ve always lived in Cap Hill?”
He nods his bright orange head. “Born and raised.”
“Do you know the guy who owns the bar Montage?”
“Brisbee?” Josh scrubs long fingers through his sparse beard.
“I-I’m not sure…” Molly and I exchange a glance. “Is he a big guy with sort of reddish hair?”
“That’s him.” Joshua brightens with recognition. “He moved here about eight years ago? Dates Kevin—”
“Wait,” I cut him off. “You said he dates Kevin. Is Kevin a guy?”
“That’s right, beautiful.” Joshua turns his charm on me. “I can take you to meet him if you want.”
We both stop, and the young man stops with us. “We’re just looking for the owner of Montage,” Molly says. “I thought he was named something different. Do you know where he moved here from?”
“New Orleans. It’s the theme of the bar. Everybody knows Brisbee.”
“Why is that?” she asks.
Josh shrugs. “He takes in runaways, helps them find jobs.”
&n
bsp; Molly and I exchange a look. I’m not sure what to make of this new information. “Is he there every night?” I ask.
Joshua frowns at me, and I can tell our questions are making him suspicious.
“What are you? Bill collectors?”
I shake my head. “No.”
