Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  “Oh, I should give them a free round,” Josh says.

  I just laugh and shake my head. I already planned to tell him that half-priced beer on the busiest night of the week is a huge loss, but I’m biding my time. The night goes on and I keep watching Sierra. She’s quiet, smiling when her friends are looking, then retreating inside herself as soon as they look away.

  When a group of guys shows up and one slides into the booth close to her, I give myself a mental slap in the face. Sierra is pretty, with large breasts and a nice figure. I need to get my imagination under control. I go into the kitchen and help with some cleanup for a while before going back to the bar.

  I’m surprised to see Sierra sitting there, Kindle in front of her, and a slight scowl on her face.

  “I told you,” she says to the guy next to her. “I have a boyfriend, and he’ll be here any minute.”

  The guy next to her is on his fourth beer—I know because I saw him get served three and then he took one from his buddy—and doesn’t believe Sierra. I don’t either, and can tell right away she’s a bad liar.

  “I’m not worried about your boyfriend, baby,” Beer Guy says and leans forward. “He’s not here yet and I don’t think he’s coming.”

  “He is.” Sierra pulls her shoulders in, looking uncomfortable.

  “Why you gotta be like that?” Beer Guy goes on.

  “I’m not being like anything,” she shoots back.

  “Just talk to me, sweet cheeks.”

  She shudders and shakes her head. “No, thanks.”

  “You know what, I took a chance talking to a pretty girl and you gotta go and be like that. You don’t have a boyfriend and you don’t have the balls to tell that to my face.”

  Sierra looks exasperated. The ‘I have a boyfriend’ line might be the oldest line of shit in the book, but it’s said to let someone down gently. Hell, even I’d rather hear that than a blatant ‘I’m not into you.’ Beer Guy takes a swig, and turns, obviously checking out Sierra’s breasts.

  “I shoulda known you’d be a bitch,” he mutters.

  I rush forward but stop myself before I throw a punch and start a fight. And for some reason, I don’t think Sierra wants to be rescued. She’s looked uncomfortable being here since she walked through the door, but not scared or weak. So I play her game instead.

  “Hey, babe,” I say, coming up behind her. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at work.”

  She turns around and looks into my eyes. God, she’s gorgeous. I give her a small smile and an even smaller nod, then flick my eyes to the guy trying to pick her up, letting her know what’s going on. A second passes and I’m regretting what I just said, thinking Sierra is going to get up and walk away, assuming I’m even worse than the guy next to her. Then her full lips pull into a smile.

  “Oh, hey, boyfriend. I’m so glad you finally made it.”

  I would have laughed at her obviousness if I weren’t well-versed in bullshitting. “Me too. Work was crazy. Being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company keeps me busy.” She laughs, and I take the barstool next to her.

  “You work too much. I think we should put that private jet to use this weekend and get away.”

  “Good idea. We can go to Hawaii?”

  She lets out a dramatic sigh and shakes her head. “We just went there two weeks ago. How about Paris instead?”

  “Too cliché. Iceland?”

  “Too hipster.”

  Now I laugh. I put my hand on the counter and Sierra slides hers forward, so our fingers are touching. The gesture is small and is the last thing I expected to send shivers down my spine. “There’s a little island in Scotland,” I start. “Everything is rocky and green, and you feel like you’re the only people left on earth when you stand on the cliff overlooking the ocean, feeling the spray of the waves on your face. Legend says mermaids gather in the coves on the cliff. Maybe we’ll see one.”

  Her smile turns genuine and she looks at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

  “It sounds lovely.”

  “It is. I’ve been there before. For business, of course.”

  Beer Guy leans over, eyeballing me. “You’re her boyfriend?”

  “I am,” I say. “You got a problem with that?”

  Drunk enough to say whatever is on his damn mind, Beer Guy widens his eyes and looks at me, taking in my muscles and tattoos, then runs his eyes over Sierra. “I didn’t think a pretty lady like her would go for a guy like you.”

  “But you thought she’d go for a guy like you?”

  Beer Guy lets out a snort, laughing for a second before realizing I insulted him. He finishes his beer, sets the bottle down, and gets up with an indiscernible huff.

  “Thank you,” Sierra says, taking her hand back. She leans in when she talks, having to speak over the music. Her brunette hair brushes over my arm, and we lock eyes again. Something passes through me when we do, almost like a faded memory being brought back to life.

  I don’t know this woman.

  I have no memories of her.

  So why does she feel so familiar?

  “No problem. I’m Chase, by the way.”

  “Sierra. Nice to meet you.” She puts her hands on her Kindle but doesn’t turn it on. Her posture changes and she’s back to looking uncomfortable.

  “So…are you from around here?” I ask, acting like Josh didn’t give me the rundown on her entire family mere minutes ago. The question perks her up. She’s used to people in this town knowing who she is.

  “I am. Are you?”

  “I am now. I just moved here.”

  “Oh, nice. Welcome to Summer Hill. How do you like it?”

  I shrug. “It’s different than what I’m used to.”

  “It’s like its own little world here. Where are you from?”

  “A few places,” I say with a laugh. “I was in New Jersey before this. And New York before that for a year. LA for a few years too, and I really have been to Scotland.”

  Her head tips as she looks at me with curiosity, letting her eyes wander over my body. It’s obvious, yet innocent. It’s like she’s looking at a work of art, just taking it all in before she makes a judgment. I can’t tell what the verdict is.

  “Why did you move so much?”

  “I was trying to find a place that felt like home.” The words leave my mouth before I have a chance to think about it. The honesty shocks me since I’ve worked hard to deny it to myself. I’d told myself I moved around a lot because I didn’t like being tied down, that staying in one place too long creates expectations and attachments to people, two things I did not want.

  Sierra’s green eyes soften. “Did you ever find a place that felt like home?”

  I slowly shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “Maybe you’ll find it here.”

  Behind us, the bar is full of life. The music is loud. Drinks slosh on the floor. The smell of cigarette smoke wafts through the open doors, carried in on the fresh night breeze, making the air stale. But all I see is Sierra.

  “Maybe.”

  Josh sets a to-go bag on the counter in front of Sierra. “I see you’ve met my brother,” he says to her.

  Sierra looks from Josh to me. “Oh, I didn’t know you were related.”

  Josh laughs. “Took me years to finally get him here. I had to use a guilt trip,” Josh whisper-talks to Sierra, pretending like I can’t hear. “He’s going to take over for me after my wife has the twins.”

  “You’ll have your hands full for sure. And you have a little girl already, right?”

  “Yes. Dakota. She’s enough of a handful on her own.”

  “She’s cute. I saw her in church a few weeks ago.” Sierra puts her money on the counter and slides her Kindle back into her purse.

  “Thanks,” Josh tells her. “Have a good night, Sierra. It’s good to see you out again.”

  “You too. Good luck with everything.” She slowly slides off the bar stool. “Thanks again, Chase. I appreciate it. That guy was rather pe
rsistent.”

  “No problem.” I fight the compulsion to kiss her. “See you around.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I will. Bye.”

  She pulls her keys out of her purse and heads out the door. I watch her leave, getting swallowed by the sea of people before disappearing out the door. Right as the red door swings closed, I see him.

  Beer Guy.

  He’s staggering as he walks, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Sierra’s back is turned, and she doesn’t see him coming. He’s headed right to her, and he doesn’t look happy.

  Chapter 5

  Sierra

  It’s been well over a year since I felt even the slightest inkling of attraction to a man. The moment I set my eyes on Chase Henson, everything changed. Tall and muscular with tattoos covering his arms, he’s a tall drink of water that I don’t need but desperately want to sip. His well-structured face didn’t help my case. The strong jaw, full lips that promise to give the best kisses, and deep, hazel eyes were enough on their own to make me have dirty thoughts.

  But there was something else about him, something I could relate to but couldn’t exactly put my finger on. Maybe it was the way he said he was trying to find a place that felt like home. Things changed this past year, and while I love Summer Hill like an old friend, the sense that I belong has vanished like whispers in the wind.

  I press the unlock button on Lisa’s key fob, then remember the battery has been dead in this thing for the last six months. It’s turned into a bit of a running joke between us since she complains about it all the time but has yet to put in a new battery.

  The sounds of the bar echo behind me, getting louder for a few seconds as the door opens before becoming muffled again as the doors swing closed.

  “I knew you lied.”

  The gruff voice makes me jump and I drop the keys. I whirl around and see the guy from the bar taking fast and unsteady steps toward me.

  “You don’t have a boyfriend. Why you gotta be like that?”

  “I’m not being like anything. Leave me alone.”

  “That guy with the tattoos isn’t your boyfriend.”

  “It doesn’t matter what he is to me.” I push my shoulders back, trying to stand my ground. If I look him in the eye and don’t show my fear, he’ll back off, right? Or does that only work with bears? Shit. “I’m not interested, so go away.”

  “You like bad boys? I can do you one better and be a real bad man.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Does that line ever work?” I swallow, take a deep breath, and mentally debate kicking him in the balls or the stomach.

  He advances, taking another drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in my face. “What do you say, little lady? Want to get out of here?”

  “Hey!” A loud, male voice reverberates off the parked cars surrounding me.

  The drunk guy quickly turns, wobbles, and falls on his ass. I look past him and see Chase rushing out.

  “Are you okay?” he asks me, gravel crunching under his feet.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” My heart is in my throat, but I really am fine.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, just annoyed me.”

  The drunk guy gets to his feet and looks at Chase, sizing him up. Realizing he’d lose that fight, he shakes his head and says he’s getting out of here. Chase takes his arm and guides him to his truck, pushes him in the driver’s seat and closes the door.

  “He really shouldn’t be driving,” I say slowly, not taking my eyes off the truck.

  Chase holds up a set of keys. “He won’t be.”

  “You picked his pocket?”

  “It’s one of my many talents. He’ll be passed out in a few minutes. Sleeping it off is the best thing for him.”

  “Good thinking.” I readjust the strap of my purse and bend over to pick up the keys.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Chase asks again.

  “Yes. I had it handled.”

  A smile plays on his lips like he doesn’t believe me. “Sure.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “You think I can’t handle myself?”

  He holds up his hands innocently. “Oh, I think you can. In fact, I bet you’re great at handling yourself.”

  I purse my lips. Is that supposed to be a sexual innuendo? And more importantly…do I want it to be?

  I do. I think I really do.

  “Sorry then,” he goes on. “But from where I was standing, you looked a little, well, frozen.”

  “I was debating how to take him down without dropping my food,” I tell him and then realize how ridiculous that sounds. We both laugh, and I shake my head. “But thanks. It was very chivalrous of you.”

  He takes a tentative step forward and shrugs. “Dealing with that guy isn’t like slaying a dragon or anything.”

  The soft and haunting hoots of an owl come from the trees surrounding the parking lot. Chase turns, staring into the woods before he moves his gaze to the sky above us.

  “I forgot how much I missed the stars,” he says softly, almost as if it’s a confession instead of a conversation. “Until I saw them again.”

  My heart is beating fast again. “I guess you don’t see them well in the city.”

  “Not at all. The stars over that island in Scotland were the brightest I’ve ever seen. And when the sea is still, you can’t tell where the water ends and the sky begins. You really do feel like you’re the only person left in the world.”

  “Is that a scary feeling?”

  He moves his eyes to me and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m used to being alone.” Then he blinks and looks away, almost as if he’s embarrassed by what he just said.

  “It sounds amazing. Were you there with someone?” I cringe at my words. Can I be any more obvious? The fact that I want to flirt with him sends a jolt through me, followed by a heavy crash of guilt. It’s like I’m betraying Jake. Besides, I have nothing to give Chase. My heart is sitting in a shattered heap inside my cold, dark chest. I worked so hard to feel nothing that I’ve permanently broken myself. I don’t think I’m capable of feeling anymore.

  “No. I was there to steal a boat.”

  I blink, unsure if he’s trying to be funny or not. He looks serious and doesn’t offer a smile or a laugh to let me know he’s joking. I tighten my grip on the bag of carry-out, and the paper crunches under my fingers.

  “Thanks again, Chase,” I say. “Have a good night.”

  He looks right into my eyes again, and for a moment, I don’t want to go. “You too, Sierra.”

  “Gran,” I begin, setting my tea down. The delicate cup clinks against the saucer, and I carefully turn it, lining up the flowers on the cup with the matching ones on the saucer. It’s Sunday evening, and I’m sitting on the large covered porch sipping tea with my grandmother until dinner is ready. I don’t like tea, but I like talking with Gran. A true southern woman, my Gran is well-mannered and well-versed in Summer Hill’s latest gossip. “Did you know that Josh Henson has a brother, Chase?”

  “Chase Henson. I haven’t heard that name in years,” she says, adding another sugar cube to her tea before gently stirring it with a porcelain spoon.

  “So you know him?”

  “I know of him,” she says and gracefully lifts her tea. “Why do you ask, dear?”

  “I met him the other night at The Mill House.”

  She tries to hide her smile behind her teacup. “You went to a bar?”

  “Yeah, for Lisa’s birthday.”

  “Good for you, honey.” She lifts an eyebrow. “I take it that’s the reason Lisa is late for dinner.”

  “What do you know about Chase?” I ask, bypassing saying anything about Lisa. She’s not here yet because she and Rob had another fight Friday night, broke up, then got back together this morning. They’re busy making up.

  “If you recall, Josh and Chase’s father was a truck driver.”

  “I remember,” I say, though I can’t remember the last time I saw Mr. Henson. He bordered betwee
n the town drunk and the town outsider. He was a big burly man, and Lisa and I always found him scary when we were children.

  “Apparently he couldn’t handle the long trips away from his wife, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t—oh. He had an affair.”

  Gran nods and takes another drink of tea.

  “So Chase…he’s Josh’s half-brother. That explains why I’d never seen him before. I wonder why he’s here now.”

  “His father passed last week. I assume he came for the funeral.”

  “Oh my God.” My eyes go wide and I suck in a quick breath. “I had no idea. Josh and Chase both seemed so…so…normal.”

  “I don’t think either boy was particularly close with their father, and he’d been sick for years, not that it makes it any easier.”

  “Right.” I reach for my teacup, feeling horrible. If I see Chase again, I’ll tell him I’m sorry for his loss. That I know how losing a loved one feels like you’ve been ripped in two and stitched up with a rusty needle, pieces hanging together by weak threads, ready to rip apart and tear open at any second.

  If I see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Chase

  I sit on the edge of a large rock, dew soaking the bottom of my jeans. I squint and look at the river, watching the sunlight dance off the rushing water. The Mill House is closed on Sundays, and the lot is empty except for me.

  I can pretend I’m the only one in the world again.

  Except I can’t get her out of my head. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I haven’t listened to a message since Friday, and the want to hear her poetic words and the harrowing emotion in her voice weighs on me. I unlock the screen and bring up the messages.

  The next message was left just hours after the previous one. I bite my lip, look out at the water again and then press play.

  “I can’t sleep,” she starts, and her voice sends a jolt of familiarity through me. I’m a visual person. I remember faces, can pick up on the slightest mannerisms and expressions, but when it comes to matching voices to faces, I lack.