Chapter Three
That barmaid was just about the prettiest thing Darryl Champlain had seen, ever. Caramel hair all wavy and wild, eyes as big and blue as a Walt Disney woodland creature. That was pretty much the complete catalogue of his thoughts as he walked out the batwing doors into the cooling weather. Since he’d landed here in Big Falls, Oklahoma, the weather had swung between “best wear a jacket” and “cover all exposed skin.” There was a nip in the air tonight, and he pulled on his denim jacket as he walked to his truck. His pride and joy. The payments on it were higher than his rent back in Houston had been. Too bad. He loved it. A cherry 1972 Ford, lifted, super-charged and tuned to perfection. She was fire engine red and he adored her.
He climbed in and sat there a second, the beautiful Sophie still in his mind’s eye. Hair tumbling over her shoulders. At least it had been when he’d first walked in. Her smile was huge and bright, but never quite reached her eyes—not until someone had texted something that made her holler. That smile had been real. Damn near blinded him.
She’d arrived a few minutes after he had, coming from somewhere in the back while he sat there talking to the owners, going over the role they wanted him to play. Jason was the kind of man that other men respected, the kind of man they’d follow. He had that way about him. Joey was laid back, didn’t seem to take life too seriously. Darryl knew his type. Out for a good time, footloose and fancy free. Probably hadn’t even had his heart broken yet. And then there was Robert. Darryl hadn’t figured Rob out just yet. Once Sophie walked in, he’d stopped trying. She crossed the floor to the bar, pulling all those butterscotch and caramel curls into a ponytail on the way, and never looked up. Then she went behind the bar and put on an apron, but not before he’d noticed how perfectly she filled out those jeans of hers.
He wondered if she’d be up for a meaningless holiday fling.
He started the truck and revved the motor a little, because he liked to hear its whine. He’d added the super charger himself and man did it sing.
The “interview” had been a formality staged for Sophie’s benefit. Her cousins had hired him before he’d ever arrived at the Long Branch, but not as the new bouncer. His job was actually to watch over her. Apparently, she had a problem ex and the McIntyre boys wanted to make sure she was safe.
It sure wasn’t going to be a chore. He’d liked her on sight, and she gave every sign of liking him too. People tended to liked him easily. Damned if he knew why. He liked them back, most of the time. This time of year, they could be kind of unbearable with their matchmaking and their we’re-not-gonna-let-you-spend-the-holidays-alone mentality. Wherever he went, it was always the same, that notion. He liked being alone. Did his best writing alone.
Okay, he did his best thinking about writing. Truth was, he hadn’t written in years now. Not really.
He revved the motor a little more. So he was gonna work closely with that pretty lady. That would almost make all the jingling bells and Christmassy smells, holly-decked halls and glittering balls worthwhile.
Hey, that might’ve been something there. He took his smart phone from its holster, tapped a button and sang experimentally.
“Jingling bells and Christmassy smells….don’t ease the fires of my lonely hell. Holly-decked halls and glittering balls….”
He stopped there, made a face. “Nope. No, glittering balls.” And that was about the extent of the writing he’d been doing lately. Then he tapped the app to stop recording, dropped the phone onto the seat and turned his truck around to head back onto the road and into town. He needed some fresh shaving gear and a hot meal. As he pulled out of the Long Branch’s front parking lot, he saw a guy walking, hoodie pulled up over his head, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Something about him made Darryl uneasy. He’d learned over the years never to ignore his feelings. They had kept him alive in Iraq, barely. Then for ten years as a cop and a handful more years in the secret service before this current hiatus. Traveling the country, taking on private work as he went along. Trying to find something without even knowing what he was looking for.
He trusted his senses. They’d served him well.
He slowed the truck, rolled his window down. “Hey there, pal. Need a ride?” He came to an almost-stop behind the stranger.
The guy just shook his head and kept on walking.
Darryl glanced back toward the Long Branch as he pulled onto the road. The guy in the hoodie was heading toward downtown, away from the saloon.
Maybe he’d come back a bit early. Maybe he’d just grab what he needed at the local store and head back to the saloon for dinner. They served dinner. He’d eat there. The guy in the hoodie had his nerves buzzing a little. And he was here to watch out for Sophie, after all.
He drove back toward town, past a whole lot of brush lots and nothing. He rounded a curve and the road became a small town main street right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Clean, perfect sidewalks ribboned beneath old fashioned lampposts, each of them decorated with an evergreen wreath. Garland draped from one to the next. Every shop window was decorated, the corners of their glass panes sprayed with fake snow, and their green and white awnings all matched. A big sign hung overhead from one side of the street to the other. It shouted MERRY CHRISTMAS!
And it sounded to Darryl like an order.
Oklahoma Christmas Blues Page 4