I brushed on a few coats of mascara, nearly rolling my eyes into the wand. “It’s not a date. It’s just old friends connecting. And I like to look nice for old friends, you got that? Here, have some of my bourbon, it’ll take the edge off.”
I nudged the unlabeled bottle toward him, the mahogany liquid sloshing around inside. He looked at it for a few seconds before sighing and bringing a glass out of the cupboard. He’d been anxious ever since I walked back in his door. After I told him I was going to see a show with the Sheriff’s son, it only doubled.
He poured himself a glass, took a sip, and nearly spat it out. He winced overdramatically. “Jesus, Ellie, you making moonshine over here?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “A friend from Kentucky brews his own. If you have a few shots, you’ll forget all your problems.”
He pushed the glass over to me, shaking his head. “Yeah well, I hope that’s not what you’re trying to do.”
My compact closed with a satisfying click. “You think I’m trying to forget my problems?”
“Either that or create new ones. Really, Ellie…” He wiped his mouth, licking his lips with distaste and turned to the window and the dying light that was settling over the groves.
“Well I’m certainly not creating any problems with Camden McQueen,” I told him, reaching over for his still full glass. I swirled the bourbon around, watching it, mesmerized. “I mean, he’s the son of the town’s law enforcement—that doesn’t exactly invite trouble.”
He grunted in response, not buying it. The truth is, I was looking for trouble tonight. I was looking for someone in particular, a local lackey, a douchebag, a deadbeat criminal. I was looking for someone people would suspect if Sins & Needles were to ever be robbed. I was looking for a way out of the past.
A honk blasted from outside. My heart jumped in my chest, making me realize I was just as on edge as Uncle Jim was. I slammed back the rest of the drink, my throat burning like I was drinking antiseptic, and hopped off the bar stool.
“Have fun,” he said without turning his head.
I missed the days when I could kiss my uncle on his cheek and make him smile. But it seemed like the days of smiling had long since passed.
I snatched up my purse and shrugged a worn leather jacket over my shoulders as I made my way out the door and down the driveway. Camden was waiting in a dark, doorless Jeep, its exhaust rising high in the rapidly cooling air. Crickets chirped and I smiled into the headlights as I made my way around the front of the vehicle.
“Nice ride,” I told him and eased myself up onto the passenger seat.
“Nice date,” he answered back smoothly, looking me up and down with a broad grin. I was glad it was dark outside and he couldn’t see the flush on my cheeks. Not only at the word “date” which I had been so certain it wasn’t, but the petty fact that he liked how I looked. I was pretty much wearing the same thing as earlier, the same thing I always wore—boots and jeans—but had a flirty white top that showed off a small slice of cleavage. Okay so maybe I dolled myself up more than I should have for a so-called friend. Damn my uncle for being right.
Naturally, Camden didn’t look too shabby himself. He was wearing black pants that were flatteringly tight in the crotch area, bad-ass boots, and a Battlestar Gallactica tee that would have looked geeky on anyone else but only made his wide chest and thick biceps more noticeable. Most surprising of all were the glasses he was wearing. It was the only thing that reminded me of the Camden I used to know, even though the glasses now were black rimmed in that hipsterish way.
“Glasses?” I asked. “Looks good.”
He grinned and gunned the jeep in the dark. We roared out of the cul-de-sac, the smell of fresh night air and sagebrush filling my nose.
“I only wear these for shows,” he admitted in a conspiratorial voice that made me lean in close to him. “A little thing I discovered as I got older, turns out women love men in glasses. Sure would have come in handy in high school.”
I smiled as diplomatically as possible. “Well, girls are pretty stupid when you’re in high school. They wouldn’t know a good man if they saw one.”
If I hadn’t been staring at him so intently as we drove under the garish streetlights, I wouldn’t have caught the rather malevolent look that clouded his brow like a heavy storm cloud. And like so many of his moods, it passed in an instant, leaving only a pained tightening of the lips behind.
He reached forward and flipped on the radio, blasting us both into silence.
CHAPTER FOUR
Then