Page 108 of The Wild Fire


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“Two of ‘em,” I say, putting two thumbs up. Why the fuck not?

“Party, party.” She laughs, shimmying her shoulders. “Isn’t tomorrow a workday?”

“It is,” I say, unapologetically.

“So maybe you should slow down,” she suggests.

“Or maybe I should just cross the bridge into Hangover Town when I get there.” I shrug.

Jane laughs with resignation. “Two bourbon lemonades. Coming right up, hun.”

The tension in my shoulders doesn’t let up until I finish my second drink. I people-watch while Jane serves other customers, going back and forth between tables, the kitchen, and the bar where I’m seated.

When I start in on my third boozy lemonade, Jane drops a couple baskets of fried food in front of me. Her not-so-subtle advice is loud and clear. I guess she doesn’t want to have to carry my drunk ass home in a couple hours.

She’s right. If I don’t get some food in me, I’ll be dealing with a pounding headache tomorrow. On top of all my other problems.

“Thanks,” I mumble as I nibble on some crispy onion rings.

The crowd is scant which gives Jane plenty of time to keep an eye on me as she works. When she’s dealt with her orders, her keen eyes observe me. “You look…troubled. What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” I say around the food in my mouth.

The sassy woman levels me with a knowing look. “Nothingdoesn’t bring sweet girls into my bar all alone. Tell Aunt Jane about it.” She squeezes my hand. Her eyes go playful. “Or else I’ll just get my information from Ziggy.”

Oh, lord. The whole town knows that Ziggy can’t keep a secret to save her life.

I heave out a sigh, dropping my half eaten onion ring onto a greasy napkin. “I slept with Davis,” I mumble.

Her eyebrow rises. “Most people like to smoke one out after sex. Not drag their butt into a bar, looking all depressed.”

“It was a few days ago. When we got stranded together on our way to the wedding,” I tell her. “I think I have a sex hangover now.”

“Most people aren’t beating themselves up over sleeping with their ex, either,” she goes on.

“I think I screwed up, Jane. Because now I can’t stop thinking about him,” I confess with a sigh.

And that's the crux of it. Do I sit around and regret it because it’s killing me now? Or should I cherish it because it’ll never get to happen again?

Either way, I lose.

Jane swipes a rag over the counter and then leans forward, resting her elbows on the bar in front of me. “It’s perfectly okay for people to come in and out of our lives at certain points. Just because you two didn’t work out a few years ago, doesn’t mean you’re permanently out of each other’s lives.”

“I don’t think that theory applies to me and Davis’s situation,” I gripe miserably. “I permanently burned those bridges when I made the decision to walk away from my marriage.”Twice.

Jane sighs and leans across the bar, elbows on the countertop. “You know the Goodwins, right?” she asks after a beat of silence.

“I do. They have the most adorable sleepy sheepdog. Marley.” I smile softly. “They come into the clinic with him all the time.”

“Do you know their story?” she questions.

I shake my head and wait, intrigued. As the most popular bartender in town, Jane always has the juicy scoop.

She steps to the side to fill a glass of beer from the tap and then slides it down the bar to an older gentleman.

She carries on, multitasking while she tells me the story. “They started dating in high school. Right here in Honey Hill. Then they broke up, moved away, got married and had kids with other people. Then, twenty years later, they both moved back to town, reconnected, and got back together. They were in their forties by then, but that didn’t stop them from starting over, getting hitched, and having more kids together. Either one of them will tell you they were simply meant to be. Just notmeant to beuntil a certain time.”

My eyes tingle. I’m extra emotional tonight and it really looks like the bourbon isn’t helping. “That’s such a sweet story.” The Goodwin’s are the cutest couple. They can barely move now, but you’ll see them walking hand-in-hand, hunched over, strolling up the sidewalks around town from time to time.

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