Karly’s lips tighten into a frown. “Well, let’s get together again before you go. Maybe someplace less … crazy.”
The house lights flicker, a sign that closing time is upon us.
“I’d like that.” I lean in for a hug, inhaling the scent of her familiar perfume. It takes me back to high school, to Friday night football games, stealing her parents’ car, and Saturday night sleepovers that turned into Sunday morning pancake breakfasts. “I’ve missed you, Karly.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she says as we walk outside. “It sucked when you left. Didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
I tuck my head. “I know. It was … rough.”
“How’s your family doing?”
It’s quiet out here on the sidewalk. The streets are vacant save for a few parked cars, and two flickering streetlamps light our way. This town is full of a whole lot of nothing, and yet it’s everything I remember it to be.
It’s home.
And you can’t pick your home any more than you can pick your family.
“Aubrey’s great,” I say. “She married this guy, Adam, a couple months ago. Super nice. Silicon Valley executive with four kids. They’re living in the San Francisco area.”
“And how’s your brother?”
“Jackson’s doing well. He’s a senior at Notre Dame. Plays football there on a scholarship. I don’t see him too often, but we talk once in a while. He’s happy,” I say. “At least he says he is.”
“And your mom?” Of course she saved the best for last. “I miss her so much. She was always like a second mother to me.”
“She’s fine,” I lie, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell her you said so. I’m sure it’ll make her day.”
If she even remembers Karly …
“Oh, hey, let me give you my number,” she says, taking my phone and programming herself into my contacts. “Call me next week and we’ll get together before you go.”
I nod, taking my phone back, and Karly gives me a wave before heading down the street. She disappears under a canopy of shade trees and a starless sky, and I make my way down the alley to find my rental.
Fishing inside my clutch, a wave of panic washes through me when I don’t feel the sharp metal scrape of my keys at the bottom.
They must have fallen out.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Trotting through the alley and around the corner, I head for the front door of the bar only to find it’s now locked, and the flashing neon “Open” sign is officially extinguished.
Pounding on the door, I press my face to the glass window to see if anyone’s still inside.
The bartender looks up—thank God—and rests his broom against a wall before taking his sweet time coming my way.
“I think I dropped my keys inside,” I say when he finally unlocks the door.
He exhales, stepping out of the way as I burst inside and search the place like a detective at a crime scene. Nothing but spilled puddles of beer and smashed mozzarella sticks litter the floor.
“Do you have a Lost and Found?” I ask. I’ve been here for hours, and there’s a chance someone may have found them and turned them in earlier in the evening.
“Check with Seth.” The bartender eyes the red door in the back of the place.
Pulling my shoulders back and sucking up my pride, I make my way to Seth’s office, knocking three times and waiting with my arms folded. I wish I weren’t feeling so defensive right now, but to be so sweet and charming and then to pull some disappearing act is shitty, and I don’t have time for games.
I knock again.
Nothing.
He’s not even here.
And now I’m stranded.
I’m making my way back to the bartender when the back door to the bar swings.
Seth stops when he sees me standing in the middle of his empty bar, and then his full mouth curls into a slow smile like he’s happy to see me.
I will myself not to fall for it, glancing away from the heat of his shameless stare.
“Leighton,” he says, his voice smooth as silk. “Everything okay?”
“She lost her keys,” the bartender says. “Anyone turn a set of keys in tonight?”
“Yeah, actually,” he says. “Chevy keys?”
My gaze snaps to him. “Yes.”
Seth motions for me to follow him back to his office, punching in a code once we reach the red door. A small wicker basket under his desk holds a slew of random items: fleece jackets, baseball caps, wallets, shoes, and eye glasses. He digs around for a second, retrieving a set of shiny keys that look all too familiar.
Snatching them from his hand, I exhale. “Oh, thank God.”
Turning to leave, I feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder so I stop.
“Wait,” he says.
I spin, facing him. “Yeah?”
His pale blue eyes search mine and his dimples flash for a split second. He seems so harmless in this moment, so benignly charming.
“Sorry I couldn’t visit with you tonight,” he says. “Friday nights are crazy around here.”
“You disappeared,” I say.
“Yeah.” He drags his perfect, white teeth over his full lower lip. “I know.”
I want to be angry with him, but the more he stands here looking at me like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, the harder it gets.
“I had a family emergency,” he says. “Had to step out for a few hours.”
“I’m sorry.”
He winks. “It’s handled now.”
“That’s good …” I stifle a yawn. “I should go.”
“Dance with me,” he says.
“What?”
Slipping his hand over mine, he leads me to the jukebox, tapping in a code before making his selection.
“I’d hate to miss an opportunity to dance with a beautiful stranger.”
“I’m a terrible dancer,” I warn him, placing my clutch and keys on a nearby high top. “Really, really bad.”
He slips his hands around my waist, pulling me against him as Hunter Hayes begins to serenade us from the speakers.
“I’ll lead.” His voice is low against my ear, his cheek brushing against mine.
My hands rest over his broad shoulders and I breathe in his earthy scent. Following his lead, we take unhurried steps, my body against his. I’m well aware of the proximity of our mouths, and I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart ricocheting against his chest, but I don’t care.
I simply want to enjoy this moment, whatever it is.
Closing my eyes, I rest my head on his shoulder and he brings me tighter against him, our bodies swaying in tandem until the song comes to an end.
The bartender drops an empty bottle on the hardwood floor behind us, and the shatter of its glass brings us back to reality.
Stepping away, I thank Seth for the dance and retrieve my things.
Silently, I thank him for other things too; for making me feel wanted and desired again. And beautiful. And for reminding me how good it feels to get butterflies again after all these years.
“I want to see you again,” he says, his hands resting on his hips as he drinks me in.
Seth may be some hometown hero with a smile that makes a girl weak in the knees, but I have no intentions of sticking around.
“I’m leaving in a week,” I say, wearing regret in my expression.
His smile fades and he steps closer, reaching for me. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of it then. What are you doing tomorrow?”
I shrug. “Not sure.”
“Meet me here at nine tomorrow night. I want to take you somewhere.”