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“Aren’t you a little old to be studying for school?”
His body pauses and it takes a second for him to raise his stormy dark-blue eyes to me. It reminds me of a summer storm that catches everyone off guard with its power. My heart stills for a moment when his eyes meet mine.
He’s bulkier than I assessed from before. Under his long-sleeved shirt, muscles protrude and stretch the material out, displaying his toned body. He looks like he could be a bodyguard or an enforcer. I imagine the person who finds me will look a lot like him.
I have to force my eyes down and study my drink before I take a sip. My paranoia is getting the best of me. I thought this would stop once I settled in.
When I look back, he’s already forgotten about me. His attention is on the book in front of him. It has me wanting to talk to him. My heart beats a little faster. I stand, moving two seats closer.
“You’re new to town,” I state, taking another sip of my drink. My thumb rubs at the wet sweat of the glass.
“Not as new as you.” His voice is deep and gravely. It’s like one of those movie narrators. My stomach flutters upon hearing it.
This time he takes his time looking me over. There’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on. I want to break the silence by asking a question, but that would lead to him asking me questions. He leans on his arms on the counter, his forearms showcasing his muscle.
It looks like he might say something, but then he positions his body so that his textbook becomes the center of his attention once again.
Everyone but this guy is friendly. The rest of the town goes out of their way to make sure I feel at home, but not him. Is that what’s bothering me?
For the rest of the night, we sit in silence, not exchanging a word as I eat my dinner. It reminds me of all the times I had to eat by myself at home.At least I was able to have a delicious meal.It was like something you would get at home, and not some local pub. I have a slight buzz happening that relaxes me.
“I’ll get the bill, please,” I call out because, other than Max, I don’t see anyone else. I can see why this guy thinks he needs a guard dog.
The dog barks, causing me to jump, and the bartender re-emerges. “Sorry, I was doing inventory. Are you off for the night?” Elliot asks.
“Yeah, it’s time I walk my ass back home.”
“It’s dark out, take Princess with you.” The dog sits up, her ears perking at her name.
“That’s kind, but I’m safe to walk alone.”
Elliot is already gathering the leash from the wall on the other side and the dog’s tail is wagging. “I insist. Just tie him up outside when you get home and I’ll get him once I close down for the night. He’s a great guard dog. You just have to tell him to attack and he will on command.”
“Your dog is a him?”
The bartender lifts a brow, not answering.
“Cool.” I was just making sure I heard right.
I glance over at Max to gauge his attention, but he’s not listening to our conversation.
I’m left with no choice as I’m handed a leash with a dog on the other end of it. The dog curls his lips at me. I’m not sure if it’s in a smile or trying to show me his teeth. Dogs, as a general rule, don’t like me. This one seems to be on board with that assessment.
I begin walking out before I realize I haven’t said thank you or my address. “Thank you, but how do you know where I live?” Once again, the hairs on my arm shoot up.
“Small town. There are no secrets here.”
I nod and Princess follows me out with no problem. The dog is slow, keeping my speed down. I wasn’t expecting the night to be darker than I’m used to. There are no street lights as I leave the main street, heading toward my little cabin.
The slight incline has Princess stopping to lie down. We still have five minutes to go, so I pull on his leash. He has to be close to a hundred pounds, there’s no way I can carry him.
“Come on, get up,” I try to coax him with my sweetest voice.
“I thought you hated dogs…” A deep voice comes out of nowhere and my eyes dart around as I move in a circle. It takes my eyes a few seconds to see a hooded figure with my father’s motorcycle club patch faded on the clothing. If I wasn’t so familiar with the logo, I would have missed it. A knife is held in his hand, and it takes me a moment before recognition settles in. Ben, my dead husband’s son, stands before me, and I know he never leaves home without a gun.
“What do you want?” My voice is steady but I can feel the fight my body is having trying not to tremble. He’s here to bring me home, dead or alive.
His finger shakes in my direction. “It’s funny how my father ends up dead the same night you leave town. Coincidence? I think not.” He steps closer to me. Princess is still lying on the ground.Worst guard dog ever.
