It’s a warm evening, so I decide to leave my car at home and walk over to the bar. I’m staying in a house in the woods this month, and the road is lined with graceful old cypress trees, casting mysterious shadows in my path. As I walk into town, I try to put Finn McKay out of my mind for good. If I’m lucky, I probably won’t even see him again. He’ll be too busy out at his new place, throwing big parties for all his rock star friends and doing whatever it is he’s been doing for the past five years. Without me.
I cut past the harbor, and can already hear music and laughter from inside the bar from half a block away. Dixie’s is an institution in town, opened by the lady herself, a pint-sized spitfire with dyed red hair and a shotgun tucked behind the bar. Everyone has a story to tell about this place, from the dads reminiscing about beers with their buddies, to moms remembering all the illicit things that went on in the back booths. For us kids, it was the ultimate rite of passage to go sneak a beer there underage, but Dixie never blinked. She just served us watered-down draft and turned a blind eye – as long as things never got out of hand.
Tonight, the place is full and noisy, filled with the usual local Friday night crowds. I’m barely through the door when Delilah sweeps me into a hug. “Two hot guys in one day? Either you’re on fire, or I’m seriously off my game.”
“How do you--?”
“Lottie called and filled me in with all the scandalous details. Now, where’s this hunky vet?”
I look around, but I don’t see Sawyer. “I’m early. He’s not here yet.”
Delilah fusses with my hair. She’s wearing a tight red tank top, and as she looks me up and down, I can tell she’s wishing I had dolled up more. “Well,” she sighs. “At least you wore the jeans.”
I shake my head. “Since when are the two of you conspiring behind my back?”
“Since you need a kick up the ass.” Delilah kisses me on the cheek. “Good luck, babe. And if he turns out to be boring, just give me the secret signal and I’ll come rescue you.”
“What’s the signal?”
“Just throw your drink over him.”
I laugh. “Real secret.”
She heads back to her table, and I make my way to the bar and order a beer. I wait for Sawyer to show, and as the minutes tick past I’m surprised to find my stomach fluttering a little with nerves. It should be no big deal, meeting a guy for a drink, but the truth is, my romantic life has been pretty… non-existent. After New York, I wasn’t ready to date for a long while, recently my dating world has consisted of some awkward fix-ups (courtesy of Delilah) and a lot of nights watching Netflix with Lottie and Kit. But Sawyer seems like he could have real potential. In the five minutes I actually spent talking to him, that is.
I check my phone and find a voicemail from an unfamiliar number. Just as I’m about to listen, my phone rings again.
“Hello?”
“Eva, it’s Sawyer—” His voice is hard to hear over the spirited argument next to me, so I slip down from my stool.
“Hold on, I’m just going somewhere less noisy.” I head outside to the parking lot. “OK, I can hear you now.”
“I have to apologize,” Sawyer sounds stressed. “I’ve got a mare in breech birth, and I won’t be able to leave. I left you a message earlier, but I guess you didn’t get it.”
I’m disappointed, but I hide it. “That’s OK. We can do it another time.”
“I’m out of town this week for a conference, but can I call you when I get back?”
“Sure, just let me know. Anything interesting?”
He chuckles. “That depends if you like artificial insemination of livestock.”
I laugh. “I think I’ll pass. Have fun.”
“You too. And I’m really sorry,” he adds, sincere. “But I look forward to seeing you when I get back.”
I hang up, alone for a moment outside. I could go back in and hang out with Delilah – and whatever guys she’s managed to rustle up this week – but I’m not in the mood. I turn, about to head back home, when someone steps out of the shadows.
“Hot date?” Finn leans against the wall, an unlit cigarette in his hand. With the lights playing off his face, he’s suddenly all chiseled angles and a dark, sexy stare. Mysterious. Dangerous.
Utterly intoxicating.
My pulse kicks, and I remember the way those restless hands felt sliding over my body; the slow, hot drag of his mouth on my bare skin.
“What if it was?” I ask, heart racing.
He gives me a slow, molten look. “He’s a lucky guy.”
I look away, unsettled by the heat racing through my blood. “He can’t make it,” I admit. “He’s out on an emergency.”
“His loss.”
I glance back. “Since when do you smoke? I thought you always said it was toxic for your voice.”
Finn gives a wry smile. “Just one of my many bad habits. I try not to… except at times of extreme stress.”
“What’s so stressful?”
He doesn’t answer, just looks at me again, wreathed in shadows. “Are you hungry?”
I blink, thrown.
“Come back inside, get a bite to eat.” Finn smiles at me, a dangerous, seductive grin. “I promise I won’t bite.”