Sawyer
“You can’t take a baby into a bar,” I said in mock outrage as Bristol pulled into a parking spot directly in front of Halligans and Handcuffs. I was referencing one of my favorite movies – Sweet Home Alabama.
“It’s not only a bar… and besides, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon,” Bristol said as she got out.
Since Bristol and Dallas’ youngest was on my side, I got the car seat and carried her inside, warily.
“Whatever you say… I won’t be the one going down for child endangerment,” I muttered under my breath.
By the time I made it to the front door, Bristol was there holding the door open for me.
I winced when the car seat dug slightly into my arm, and I handed the baby off to her mother.
The baby was probably all of eighteen pounds, but that was enough to make her feel like a million in the car seat.
Bristol took the seat and slung it into the crook of her arm like it was second nature… which it probably was seeing as this was her second child.
Their other baby, Latham, was at pre-school until three this afternoon.
Latham didn’t even know me, and I was his aunt.
I shut down that thought before it could morph into anything worse.
I studiously avoided looking at the cross on the way to and from work today.
It’d been only a half-day today since Zack had Friday afternoons off, and I was grateful.
Riding my bike back and forth to work, as well as putting in a whole eight hour shift, was tiring.
And it was more than I’d done in ten years; it was going to take some getting used to.
“Just two?” A man asked.
I looked up to find the man behind the bar, a man that had a long white beard down to his chest, and a pot-belly to rival a sumo wrestler, staring at us.
“Two and a baby. A booth will be fine,” Bristol said, holding up the arm that was holding the car seat.
The man nodded to a booth towards the middle of the room, and I grinned.
I loved how they incorporated all the firefighter and police memorabilia.
It was tastefully done, not ostentatious like it could’ve been.
“This place is nice,” I said, sitting down across from where Bristol sat Danni’s car seat.
Bristol took her own seat, and we both looked the menu.
It was the, “What can I get for you ladies?” That had me looking up.
It was the man.
The same one from the other day that’d stopped to make sure I was okay.
The older one.
I licked my lips.
“Dr. Pepper,” I said roughly.
My voice sounded scratchy, as if I’d been gargling Jack Daniel’s and chain smoking.
The old man smiled, and I was taken by his appearance once again.
I’d never seen an older man as hot as him.
He was just as fit as any other man in the room, if not even more so.
“I want a water with lemon,” Bristol said, smiling at the man.
I felt an irrational surge of jealousy when the man turned his attention to her. “You got it, babe.”
Bristol smiled as the man turned and left, and I was left wondering how well they knew each other.
“You know him?” I asked softly.
Bristol nodded.
“Everyone knows him. He’s the owner,” she whispered back.
My eyes widened. “Really? How old is he?”
She shrugged. “We always get mixed numbers. His son, who I’m sure you’ll see around, says he’s in his fifties. But the man doesn’t look a day over forty. He’s seriously beautiful, and I can only hope that Dallas ages that well.”
“His hair looks like that man’s on the commercial… you know the one for ‘Touch of Gray?’ The one that you said looked fake?” I whispered back.
She nodded. “He shaved off his long beard a few months ago. He looked a little bit older then. Now he looks like a fuckin’ cover model for Harley Davidson. They could seriously use him on all their ads and women would go buy Harleys just in hopes that their husbands might look that cool.”
I rolled my eyes.
“He looks good now, though. I like his beard that size.”
His beard was trimmed close to his face and outlined his jaw, upper lip, and midway up his cheeks perfectly.
It was the type that would feel great against the inside of your thighs… you know…if I had to guess.
I’d only had one lover in my lifetime, and that was when I was seventeen.
And he was as baby faced as they came.
It was incredibly disheartening and had been the only experience I would have… probably ever.
Which was the saddest part.
“What are you getting to eat?” She asked.
I looked down at my menu, noticing that they didn’t have anything that wasn’t fried.
My mouth watered at the plethora of foods.
“Chicken fried steak, fried okra, French fries, and fried pickles.”
Silence.
I looked up to see Bristol staring at me with wide eyes.
“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” she mumbled, going back to her menu.
I shrugged.
“Maybe.”
What did it matter?
I had no life.
And my family had already proved that they could live without me.