by Meg Muldoon
“Now, don’t call her that, Josiah. That right there is poor manners.”
I looked at where the voices were coming from, a sick feeling settling in at the back of my throat.
Kirby Carruthers and his buddy Josiah Stevens sat there on the bar stools, a couple of double shots in front of them. Kirby swiveled his stool toward me so that his knees were almost touching my legs.
I backed away.
“I apologize for my friend here,” he said to me. “You see, I tol him about what happened the other day at your establishment. He didn’t much care for the way I was treated.”
I didn’t say anything.
He looked at his friend and smirked.
“But, hey, I always say the pas’ is the pas,’” he said. “Why don’t you pull up a stool with old Josey and me?”
“I’m on my way out,” I said, walking around them and heading for the door.
I felt a large hand grip my elbow.
“Now, wait a sec, girl,” Kirby said.
I turned around, ready to smack that hillbilly S.O.B.
I realized too late that coming to this place had been a real bad idea.
“You know, I heard that you broke up with that cop you was seeing,” he said, pulling me toward him. “Are you in here tonight because you’re looking for somebody to love, sweetheart?”
“Let go of me Kirby or I’ll—”
“Or you’ll what?” he said, his tequila-soaked breath hitting my face. “You’ll take my credit card away again?”
Josiah started laughing. I squirmed, yanking my elbow away, trying to catch the eye of someone who could help me in the bar.
But the bartender had his back to us, and virtually everyone else in the place was so drunk, they couldn’t tell the ceiling from the floor.
I was a couple of seconds away from screaming.
Kirby started laughing.
“Aw, c’mon, honey,” he said. “Don’t be shy.”
He pulled me close to him.
I was about to scream my lungs out.
When, suddenly, without any sort of warning, someone’s fist went right into the side of Kirby Carruther’s face.
A couple of the gas attendant’s teeth went flying out the side of his mouth, looking like pieces of popcorn.
Chapter 43
It all happened so fast.
A strong hand gripped mine, pulling me away from Kirby and Josiah before any of us knew what was going on. I let the hand lead me away, my legs working hard to keep up.
We ran out of the bar like a couple of Kentucky thoroughbreds, busting through the doors and out into the parking lot. We passed the bikers, who watched us with mild amusement as we fled the scene of the crime.
“Where’s your truck?” he said.
He was still holding onto my hand. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the suddenness of it all, or the excitement of it all, but I swear, I felt a current of energy running between us.
I nodded toward the Chevy, as the words weren’t coming out. I fished the keys out of my pocket as our feet crunched gravel. I slid the keys into his hand.
I don’t know why I did it, giving him the keys to my truck. But I had a feeling that he understood the gravity of the situation and could act on it. There was no telling what Kirby Carruthers would do if he caught up to us.
Hank pressed his face against the window and started howling happily as we piled into the car. I put my seatbelt on and he started up the engine, putting the truck in reverse. The tires squealed against the gravel.
We ripped out of the parking lot like hell on wheels, passing Kirby and Josiah as they ran out the front door of the bar, looking dumbfounded in a cloud of our dust.
Kirby was missing a thing or two.
We zipped down the highway, far, far away from The Black Bear.
My cheeks burned. It took me a few moments to realize that I had a bright smile on my face.
I looked over, seeing that the stranger was smiling too.
We both started laughing uncontrollably, driving fast, deep into the black night.
Maybe something was wrong with me, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so alive or had so much fun.
It felt like we were Bonnie and Clyde.
Chapter 44
Fletcher Hart winced as I inspected the ripped skin on his knuckles.
“I never figured you for a hit and run type,” I said, applying some Neosporin to his right hand.
“Well, I’ve learned to know which fights to stick around for,” he said. “Some are worth it, but most aren’t.”
I wondered about the fight that had given him that broken nose. If that fight had been worth it.
“Sticking around to slug it out with that mindless redneck wasn’t going to do any good.”
“You’ve probably got a point there,” I said, taking his hand and gently wrapping it with some white gauze that I’d found in the back of my medicine cabinet.
“What were you doing at that place anyway?” I said.
He shrugged.
“The Cupid was closed and I was thirsty,” he said.
“Did they have orange soda?”
He shook his head.
“Seems like you all have something against orange soda in this town,” he said. “You know, I could ask you the same question. About what you were doing there tonight.”
“I was looking for somebody.”
I cleared my throat.
He already knew I was crazy–I didn’t need to be secretive about why I was really there.
“Somebody from one of my visions,” I said. “It’s my best friend’s soulmate I’m looking for.”
I expected him maybe to start laughing, or to shake his head in disbelief, but he didn’t.
“You find him?”
“Thankfully, no,” I said. “Though, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have gone there alone. The Black Bear’s bad news.”
“It ain’t any place for a lady, that’s for sure,” he said.
I let out a snort.
“What makes you think I’m a lady?”
“I’ve got a sense for that sort of thing,” he said, watching me as I secured the bandage.
I caught his eyes, but looked away quickly as some strange sense of fear suddenly gripped me.
It had been the second time that Fletcher Hart had saved me from Kirby Carruthers.
I was thankful. And more than that, when I saw him, standing there after giving Kirby a taste of his own medicine, well I…
But no. That had just been the rush of adrenaline I felt. The thrill of busting out of that creepy little dive bar, of running hard and fast. Of feeling like I was in a movie for a split second.
Nothing more.
I put away the rest of the white gauze, pushing it back in the kitchen medicine cabinet. He leaned back in his chair at the small dining table, looking at me the way he’d been looking at me since he got here.
A look that kind of made my heart go pitter-patter for some reason.
For some reason…
In my gut, I knew the reason.
And I knew that it was just plain trouble.
Hank was lying at the stranger’s feet, or more accurately, lying on top of his feet.
That was what the St. Bernard did when he really liked somebody. Most people would squirm to get their feet loose of the dog’s crushing weight, but the stranger just let him lie there like there was nothing more natural in the world.
“Thank you for that,” he said, looking at his bandaged hand.
“Of course.”
I leaned back against the counter.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Whatever you like.”
“How’d your nose get like that?”
He glanced up at me, looking like a shadow had fallen across his face. And I immediately regretted bringing it up.
“It’s not a very good bedtime story,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s none of m
y—”
“No, don’t be,” he said. “I’d just as soon not bother you with the details. Much like the nose, they aren’t pretty.”
“I think it suits you just fine,” I said. “You shouldn’t be so self-conscious.”
I winked, echoing the words he’d said to me when I first met him sitting at the bar.
I wasn’t lying about his nose, either.
Sometimes it was the scars in life that ended up being our most beautiful characteristics. And the more I got to know Fletcher Hart, the more that particular attribute grew on me.
“Well, now that we have that straightened out,” he paused while I let out a laugh at the silly pun.
“Can I ask you a question?” he said.
“You haven’t answered mine.”
“I will,” he said. “Just maybe not tonight.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Okay, fine. Shoot.”
“Do you really think that man on your wall is your soulmate?”
The question surprised me, and I felt caught completely caught off guard by it. I thought it over for a few minutes, struggling to come up with an answer.
I finally nodded.
“I had a vision of him when I was just a girl,” I said. “In the vision, he had his back to me, and was in the shadows. He was holding a guitar, and he turned around to look at me. All I could see were his eyes. These lovely blue eyes of his.
“Years later when the scene actually played out in the parking lot of The Cupid, I knew it was him. Some part of my soul recognized him, I think. You know what that’s like?”
He didn’t answer. He just folded his arms across his chest.
“Do you think he’s gonna come back for you?” he asked.
I hesitated a moment too long.
“Yes,” I said.
Though I tried to conceal my doubt, the word came out shaky and utterly without resolve.
The stranger rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“Hmm,” he said.
The conversation dropped off, and a silence settled in over the kitchen.
He cleared his throat and attempted to stand up. Hank rolled over and freed up his feet.
“I should get going,” he said.
That made me a little sad, though I pretended like it didn’t.
“I’ll drive you back,” I said, reaching for the truck keys.
He shook his head.
“No. I like walking. Gives me time to think.”
“But it’s freezing out there,” I said.
“I’ve got a good jacket.”
I wasn’t able to talk him out of it, so I instead, I settled on showing him out, leading him through my small living room and to the front door. I opened it, and a cloud of frosty cold air crept in.
He squeezed past me in the tight space of the doorway, lingering for a moment in that part that forced us closest together.
He looked down at me, those stormy greys of his settling lightly on my eyes.
I read something in them that I hadn’t before.
There was a kind of sadness. A kind of sorrow that hadn’t been obvious until now. But standing so close to him, I could see it clearly.
“You know, I don’t believe in soulmates,” he said.
“You already told me that,” I said.
I realized I was breathless.
And that my heart was racing.
He touched my hand lightly.
And I knew that I had no power to control what was going to happen next.
Because part of me wanted it to happen too.
Chapter 45
We both reached for each other at the same time.
He pulled me to him and a second later, his lips were on mine. Kissing me softly with a quiet intensity that took my breath away.
I felt like my knees were going to give out right then and there. That my heart would pound right through my chest. That I might just burst into flames.
He ran his hands roughly through my hair, and leaned into me, pressing my back into the door jamb. It was a kind of mad fever that overtook both of us. A kind of electric current that ran through us. A kind of—
“Wait,” I said, pulling away.
He stopped. Both of us were breathing hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s—”
“No,” he said, letting me go. “I’m really out of line. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It wasn’t just you,” I said.
What had come over me?
I wasn’t this kind of a girl. I didn’t let strangers into my house and then kiss them wildly in my doorway, giving them ideas about myself that weren’t true.
He looked at me, that sadness still lingering in his eyes.
“It’s just that…” I started saying.
Jacob flashed into my mind, and what he’d said about coming back home soon to visit.
I had to be smart about this. Starting up with another man when I might be so close to mending the fences with my soulmate seemed like a big mistake. After all, hadn’t I just learned my lesson with Raymond?
“I just—”
“It’s okay,” the stranger said, backing away. “I understand. Really. This is my fault.”
He took my hand in his and squeezed it. I rubbed it with my thumb, noticing something I hadn’t before about him.
“But for what it’s worth, I think this soulmate of yours is a fool for leaving you alone like this.”
He looked deep into my eyes again, one last time.
“A damn fool.”
He departed. Walking quickly down the front porch steps and out into the foggy night.
I stayed in the doorway a long while after he’d disappeared into the fog. The night air rumbled with the sound of an approaching train, and I suddenly felt incredibly cold, all the way to the very core of my being.
Hank howled as the train passed.
And I worried that the stranger was cold too.
Before closing the door, I thought I heard the sound of a car engine starting up, somewhere in the distance.
Chapter 46
Sometimes you can spend countless hours looking for somebody. And then just as you’re about to give up the search, out of nowhere, they just tumble out of the heavens right into your lap.
That’s what happened when I pulled up into the parking lot of the still-closed Cupid the next day.
I’d been thinking all morning about the stranger. About what he was really doing here in Broken Hearts Junction. About why he seemed to have taken an interest in me.
About how he really got that busted nose. About why his left hand was scarred and mangled like that.
And about why I felt so drawn to him.
Everything about him was a mystery. He was good at not answering my questions. I didn’t know one thing about the man except his name, and even that I didn’t know for sure.
Raymond had said something about Fletcher not being who I thought he was.
And for all I knew, the stranger could have been Dale’s murderer.
Yet… yet I couldn’t take my mind off of that kiss.
About the way I felt when he ran his hands through my hair and pulled me to him.
And I couldn’t take my mind off the sadness behind his stormy grey eyes.
I got out of the truck, Hank following close behind. I walked across the parking lot, to the front door, where a man seemed to be waiting.
At first, I thought he was one of our regular bar patrons, jonesing for a drink, unaware that we were closed.
But then I realized that I didn’t know him. At least, not in real life.
I had, however, seen him before.
“Well, I’ll be,” I muttered, looking him over.
The short stocky man with the frizzy black hair, caterpillar eyebrows and thick glasses turned toward me as I approached the front door of The Cupid.
“Excuse, me, Miss?” he said, coming over to me. “Do you work here?”
I suppr
essed a grin.
I’d finally found him. Or more accurately, he’d found me.
Now the trick would be to get him and Beth Lynn to cross paths, and I’d be home free.
“Can I help you?” I said, being overly friendly.
He pulled out a notepad and a pen from the pocket of his trench coat.
“Robert Reese with the Broken Hearts Bulletin.”
He held out a hand and I shook it with a slight hesitation.
Beth Lynn’s soulmate was a reporter. Now that was something I wouldn’t have guessed.
“Loretta,” I said, having a feeling that he wasn’t hovering outside The Cupid to find his soulmate.
He jotted something down in his notebook.
“And what do you do here, Loretta?”
“I’m… well, I used to be the bartender.”
He scribbled that down too.
“You know, I read the paper, but your name doesn’t seem familiar,” I said.
“I’m new to town,” he said. “Just moved here earlier this month for the job.”
So that was why he’d been so hard to find.
“You see, the police just sent out a news release this morning about Dale Dixon’s death. About it being a probable homicide.”
He scanned my face, looking for a reaction of some sort, I gathered. But I didn’t give him anything.
“You see, I was hoping to get a better idea of who Dale was as a person for a feature piece. Maybe I can ask you a few questions about him?”
“Well, I’d, uh, I’d like to help,” I said. “But you ought to check with his wife, Courtney, first.”
“I’m afraid she was a little hostile when I asked,” he said. “Told me to get the hell away from here, or... well, I’d rather not repeat it.”
“Yet you’re still here,” I said.
“Well, it’s my job to be persistent,” he said. “So how about helping me out? How long did you know Dale for?”
I bit my lip.
I didn’t really want to rehash it with a reporter.
Besides, I quickly figured out that there would be a better way of doing all of this.
“Listen,” I said. “I can’t talk right now, but if you come by the bar tomorrow afternoon, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
He lifted his bushy eyebrows.
“Why not now?”