Elle watched Harry like a hawk as she took a sip of her beer. She’d been completely sucked into the story of the boy. She felt personally connected to him after what he’d done in the diner. When he’d reached out to touch her, there’d been something in the gesture more than she’d ever felt before. It had gotten under her skin.
“Forrester,” Harry said. “That was the boy’s name. Forrester Snow.”
Chapter 10
Forrester
FORRESTER LOOKED OUT ACROSS THE windswept graveyard and pulled his jacket more tightly around his neck. He was freezing. He’d had the presence of mind to pack a black suit and white shirt before he’d left home, but he hadn’t remembered a good coat. He was paying for it now. The wind howled down the mountain peaks and cut through him like a knife.
In front of him was a grave, eight feet long, two feet wide, and six feet deep. That’s what had become of his father, a hole in the ground and a pine box. He looked at the coffin, it wasn’t the cheapest one available at the Stone Peak funeral home, but it was close.
The priest, in his long black coat, looked at him.
“You ready to get started, son?”
“Yes, father,” Forrester said.
He was the only person who’d shown up for the funeral and he wasn’t sure if the priest would have even bothered if he hadn’t been there.
“We are gathered here today, to bury the remains of Abraham Snow, who has now returned to his home with Our God, Our Father.”
Forrester didn’t listen to the words. He stood there shivering, and stared up into the dizzying peaks of the mountains above. They seemed to be testing the limits of heaven themselves, seeing if they could reach high enough to pass from this world to the world of the Father.
He looked at his hands. What had he done? The day before, in the diner, what was that? That wasn’t like him. She’d walked over, that waitress, and poured him coffee. Nothing unusual in that. But then he’d reached out and touched her. Why? What was it about her?
He was drawn to her. He knew nothing about her. He’d scarcely said a word to her. But he wanted her. He had to have her. He had to get closer, get a better look, maybe even have a taste.
The funeral didn’t take long. When the priest finished, he addressed Forrester directly. Forrester wasn’t sure how much of his story the priest knew, but he clearly knew some of it because he treated Forrester with an odd sort of deference, as if his past had earned him some deeper respect than the average man.
“Would you like to say any words, son?” the priest said.
Forrester looked up at him. He cleared his throat. Then he spoke.
“Which way is the closest whiskey bar?”
Chapter 11
Elle
ELLE WAS SITTING CLOSE TO the warmth of the fire in Harry’s bar with Kelly the next afternoon. Gracie had let them shut the diner early because it was dead. Gracie liked to keep the hours as consistent as possible, but given the enormously long shifts the girls pulled for her, she was happy to let them go home early when it wouldn’t affect business too much. Today was also a special day, because Grace was taking Luke to the zoo. They would be gone all day, and it meant Kelly could get out for a drink again, for the second night in a row. That was a rare treat for her.
“You didn’t have a hang over last night, did you?” Elle asked Kelly.
“No, not at all. Did you?”
“No, but I think I had a few nightmares about that story Harry told us.”
“I know what you mean,” Kelly said.
Elle picked up her glass and as she was about to take her first sip, Kelly nudged her on the arm.
“What?” Elle said.
“Over there.”
“Where?”
“Look,” Kelly said, pointing.
Elle looked over to the door, and sure enough, the man from the day before was entering. If Harry was right about him, his name was Forrester Snow. Elle caught herself staring at him and had to force herself to look away.
He looked different than he had the day before, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit with leather shoes and an expensive cotton shirt. If it wasn’t for the tattoos peeking out at the cuffs and collar, he’d have fit right in in any executive boardroom in the country. To say he was dashing was the understatement of the century. He was positively ravishing.
Elle and Kelly watched his every move as he came up to the bar and sat on the other side of it, facing them directly. The bar made a large U-shape, with the space inside reserved for Harry. Forrester was across from them, about twelve feet from Elle’s eyes, and she took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him, every raw detail of his physique. She was under a spell, at least until Kelly kicked her on the shin.
“Ow,” she said.
“Well, let him have a drink without you drooling all over it.”
“I’m not drooling.”
“Elle, you’re practically leaning over the bar. If you try to get any closer to him you’ll fall over.”
Forrester ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey and only then looked around at his surroundings. Elle froze when he looked in her direction. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks in an obvious blush of embarrassment. She felt suddenly hot.