Jilted

by Tess Thompson

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “Maybe you should go back the therapist you went to after Sebastian was born.”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him. “That was postpartum and all kinds of weird hormonal stuff. I’m fine now.”

  “Are you sure you’re not delusional about him?” Zane said.

  “Once again. One word. Telescope.”

  Zane laughed. “All right, fine. But I swear to God, if he hurts you, I’ll run him out of town.”

  Too late. He already had hurt her. There was no way she was telling her pontificating brother that truth. A brave face was what was needed with a bit of bravado on the side. “Don’t worry about me. You take care of your sweet family, and I’ll look after myself, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  She gave him a quick hug and made for the door before he started talking about sending her to a place where she could “rest” her nerves.

  Later that evening, there was standing room only in the bar area as Sophie lifted a pint glass from the stack under the counter. She tipped it just so and watched as a creamy dark ale crept to the top. A briny breeze drifted in through the French doors that opened to the front patio, mitigating the hoppy scent of spilled beer, sweat, and sunscreen. Two drunk strident-voiced bachelorette parties raised the noise meter to unparalleled levels. The gaggle of women in the first group were now going through a list of tasks for the bride-to-be. Apparently, number five consisted of asking a man to carry her from one end of the bar to the other.

  Sophie exchanged an amused glance with Bobby before he poured tequila into a line of shot glasses for a buff guy wearing a backward baseball cap and his two equally muscular friends, who were in the throes of flirting with two of the bachelorettes. One of the girls laughed and pushed into the baseball guy’s chest before accepting the shot. Cliffside Bay would be crawling with hungover people in the morning.

  What would it be like to be that free? To smell of seawater and sunscreen instead of spilled beer and kitchen grease? She had responsibilities. A staff who relied on her. Profits, quotas, and inventory to worry over.

  She loved it all. As her dad always quoted from his favorite song, “Me and Bobby McGee,” freedom was just another word for nothing left to lose. She didn’t need freedom. She needed this place. Especially with her broken heart. Work was the one thing she could always count on to cheer her and strengthen her.

  As the night continued, the bachelorette parties grew drunker as the men hovered near, ready if one of them gave a nod of interest. Every table was filled in the restaurant area. The bar area was crammed with so many bodies that people could barely move. The waitstaff hustled about delivering drinks and dinners, while Sophie and Bobby did their best to keep up with the demand.

  After the dinner rush, the pace slowed. Both bachelorette parties left, as did most of the men who’d been hovering around waiting to escort them back to the lodge. Around ten, the place had emptied by half.

  She glanced at a blue-eyed boy at the end of the counter. Slumped shoulders and a morose gaze into the bottom of his nearly empty pint glass told her his story. This was a man with a recent broken heart. He looked up, perhaps feeling her eyes on him, and peered at her through black-framed glasses.

  “You need another?” she asked as she slung a dish towel over her shoulder.

  “I shouldn’t but I will.” He was nice-looking, with brown curls, full, sensual lips, and a nerdy, intellectual vibe. The guys he’d come in with were gone, but he’d obviously stayed behind. He wore a white T-shirt that was tight against his broad chest. She didn’t know what he looked like below the waist, as he sat on a stool at the end of the bar, but she had a feeling it was as good as the upper potion. “I’m not driving.”

  “Are you staying at the lodge?”

  “How’d you know I’m on vacation?” he asked, pushing his glasses farther up his nose.

  “This is a small town, and most everyone comes in here at one time or another.” She drew him another IPA from the tap.

  “I’m moving to a small town in a few weeks,” he said. “Emerson Pass. Have you heard of it?”

  She smiled. “Strangely enough, I have. Some friends of mine were married there last Christmas. It’s like a postcard.”

  He sighed, then thanked her for the new beer. “Yeah, it’s a romantic place. If you’re one of the lucky ones.”

  “Lucky?”

  “In love. Which I’m not.” He took a long drag from his beer. “I was supposed to be here for a romantic getaway with my girlfriend. I was going to propose, but she broke up with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pushed a dish with nuts and pretzels closer to him. Her instinct to soothe was always associated with food.

  “She said she couldn’t see a future with a guy who wants to be a high school teacher.”

  “Well, that’s kind of shallow, isn’t it?” She clucked sympathetically. This guy was lucky to have escaped. “Teaching is one of the world’s most important professions.”

  He nodded. “My family doesn’t think so. They couldn’t understand why I’d want a PhD in English. Dickens is for sissies. That’s what my father said after I’d spent three years working on my thesis.” He took another drag from his beer. “Sometimes it seems like there’s never been one person in my life who’s ever understood me.”

  “Maybe that means you haven’t been hanging out with the right people,” she said.

  For the first time, the corners of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. “Maybe.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Darby.”

  She shook his hand, warm and large with just the right amount of dark hair on his knuckles. Clean, trimmed fingernails. The curls at the base of his neck were an added bonus. “I’m Sophie. My brother and I own this place.”

  “You own it?” he asked as his eyebrows lifted.

  “Yes, family business.”

  “I figured you were a college student working here for the summer,” he said.

  “No, I graduated a few years ago. Fast track. Graduated at twenty.” As they chatted, she pulled clean glasses from the dishwasher and stored them under the counter.

  “Good for you,” he said. “Seems like it would be fun but a lot of work.”

  “That about sums it up.” She filled another dish with the nut and pretzel mix. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jamie Wattson come in the front door and head for the bar. Sophie waved, pleased to see her new friend.

  “Hey,” Jamie said as she slipped onto the stool next to Darby. She wore her dark blond hair up in a messy bun that highlighted her tanned, toned shoulders. Jamie never seemed to pay any attention to her appearance. She didn’t need to. The girl was a natural beauty. In loose jeans and a tank top, she was certainly a contrast to the overdone bachelorettes with their high heels and heavily made-up faces.

  Sadly, Darby didn’t look up from his glass to notice.

  “What’s up?” Sophie asked. “Night off?” Jamie worked as a waitress at Dog’s Brewery most nights.

  “Zane kicked me out. He said I’ve been working too many shifts without a break, and he’s worried I’m going to turn into a workaholic like you.”

  “Zane needs to mind his own business,” Sophie said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “You look pretty tonight.” She said this a little too loudly, but Darby didn’t seem to have a clue that a gorgeous woman had just about fallen into his lap.

  “Mom fell asleep watching reruns of Downton Abbey. I took that as a sign to come out for a drink.” She and her mother lived in the Victorian just a block south of The Oar. When Trey, her brother, had moved into the cottage of his fiancée, Autumn, Mrs. Wattson and Jamie had moved into his vacated apartment. “I shouldn’t spend money on drinks, but sometimes a girl needs out of her cage.”

  “You want a glass of wine?” Sophie asked.

  “Nope. It’s a martini type of night.” Jamie reached into the snack bowl and fished out a broken pretzel. “I got bad news today.”

 
Sophie filled a metal shaker with ice, vodka, and a smidge of vermouth. “About the inn?”

  “Yeah. I was outbid.” She popped the pretzel in her mouth and chewed as Sophie shook the contents of the drink. “Again. At this rate I’m going to be saving and making offers on run-down inns until I die.”

  “I’m sorry. Did you have your heart set on this one?” Sophie poured the contents of the martini into a triangular glass, pleased to see slivers of ice floating on top. She speared a few green olives with a toothpick to finish it off.

  “I tried not to, but I did.” Jamie sipped delicately from the martini. “It was so perfect. I mean, it needed some work, but only cosmetic. Trey said he’d help me. We’d even been looking at swatches. Which was the kiss of death. Never look at swatches.” Seemingly, for the first time, Jamie’s gaze slid sideways to take in her neighbor. Her eyes widened.

  “This is Darby,” Sophie said. “He loves Dickens.”

  Jamie turned to face him. “Sure, I know Darby.”

  Darby seemed to wake from his stupor. He adjusted his glasses. “Hey, it’s you. The waitress who witnessed my most humiliating moment.”

  “I served him…and his date at the brewery last night,” Jamie said to Sophie before turning back to Darby. “How’s your hangover?”

  He lifted his pint glass. “A little hair of the dog.”

  “Good call,” Jamie said. “You’ve got a good excuse.”

  “Because I was dumped on the night I was going to propose?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Jamie grimaced. “Doesn’t get much worse than that. And trust me, I’ve been there. The whole staff felt so bad for you.” She turned back to Sophie. “We had the engagement ring in one of those little chocolate cakes and champagne on ice.”

  Darby groaned. “So embarrassing.”

  “No way,” Jamie said. “We’re used to stuff happening like that. On any given night, someone’s getting dumped.”

  “That’s super depressing,” Darby said.

  “Which is why yours truly stays far away from any romantic entanglements,” Jamie said.

  “Did I do anything embarrassing last night?” Darby asked. “I can’t remember much after the fourth tequila shot.”

  “No, you were fine. Other than buying a round of drinks for the entire bar,” Jamie said.

  He went white as he tore his glasses from his face and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh God. I can’t afford that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Zane didn’t charge you,” Jamie said.

  “He was dumped at the altar once,” Sophie said.

  “So he understands my pain,” Darby said.

  Jamie smiled kindly and patted his shoulder. “He does. I can’t lie, dude. Last night was a sad scene. She was kind of brutal.” She turned to Sophie. “It was like two minutes after I delivered their steaks, and she pulled the trigger. Then she had the nerve to take her dinner home in a doggie bag.”

  “Brutal.” Sophie excused herself to pour a pitcher of blonde ale and set it and two glasses on the counter for one of the servers. She listened to the conversation between Jamie and Darby while she opened two bottles of Mexican beer.

  “You smell really good,” Darby said to Jamie.

  “Thanks.” She caught Sophie’s gaze and widened her eyes for a split second.

  Sophie turned away so Darby wouldn’t notice her smile and continued to listen as she poured a few glasses of wine.

  “Anyway, it wasn’t your destiny to be with what’s-her-name,” Jamie said.

  “There’s no such thing as destiny,” Darby said.

  “I guess that’s why you study Dickens and not Hardy.”

  “How did you know about Dickens and Hardy?” Darby asked.

  “English major,” Jamie said.

  A customer at the other end of the bar gestured to Sophie down for another round. “You guys enjoy yourselves. Everything’s on the house tonight.”

  “Thanks, Sophie. I accept,” Jamie said.

  “That’s so nice of you,” Darby said.

  “The brokenhearted have to stick together,” Sophie said.

  As she walked away, she heard Jamie say to Darby, “How about if I keep you company tonight? I’ll tell you my life story to distract you from your woes.”

  A few minutes later, Sophie’s heart sank when she saw the next drink order pop up on her screen. The request was for a pitcher of Dog’s Brewery IPA and a glass of the featured red blend from Washington state. She could count on one hand the number of patrons who ordered her monthly rotation of either Walla Walla or Paso Robles reds. One of whom was Nico Bentley.

  Sophie scanned the restaurant. Sure enough, there was Nico with the rest of the Wolves at their regular table in the far corner near the window. They must have sneaked in while she was talking to Darby.

  She filled a pitcher with the IPA. Should she go over and say hello? The largest of the men, Rafael and Stone, always sat in the chairs that faced the bar section; Trey and Nico sat with their backs to her; David took the end.

  “Bobby, I’m going to take this order out myself,” she said as she poured a glass of a Walla Walla blend.

  “I thought you were going home early tonight?” Bobby asked.

  “I am. After this. I just want to deliver this order myself.” She stacked the glasses, wine, and pitcher on a tray.

  He winked at her. “No kidding? Can’t imagine why.”

  “Be quiet or I’ll fire you,” she whispered, and kicked him lightly in the shin with the tip of her Birkenstock as she passed behind him with the tray balanced on one hand.

  “Be cool,” Bobby said. “Act like you don’t care.”

  If only she could. When it came to Nico she was anything but cool.

  She wove through the crowded restaurant until she reached them. All five men looked up at her.

  Stone greeted her with a wide grin and a soft look in his dark blue eyes. He knew all about her feelings for Nico and had great empathy for her situation. He’d loved Pepper for a year before she’d give him the time of day. Actually, she’d hated him. Now they were getting married. Proof that miracles happened every day. One just had to be patient.

  “Hey, Sophie,” Stone said.

  She set the tray on the table and unstacked the pint glasses, then set them in front of the four beer drinkers. “You boys eating?”

  “We already put our order in.” Rafael grabbed the pitcher and started to pour beer into each of the glasses.

  Nico fiddled with a coaster, breaking it in half, then quarters. Sophie set the glass of wine in front of him. He smiled up at her, but his faded blue eyes were flat. The eyes of a stranger. “Thanks, Soph.”

  She swallowed the ache in her throat. Be cool. Pretend that I don’t care. “This is a red blend from Washington. The grapes are from Red Mountain. Mostly cabernet with some Malbec and Syrah.”

  “Nice nose,” Nico said as he swirled and sniffed and completely avoided further eye contact with her.

  “Busy night?” Trey sent her a sympathetic smile.

  “We’ve had a great summer,” Sophie said. “By this time of night things are usually settling down. You should have seen it a few hours ago. What brings you guys in so late?”

  “We’ve been in the city,” Trey said. “Picking up our custom-made tuxedoes for the big lug’s wedding.” He gestured toward Stone.

  Stone grimaced as he ran a hand through his hair. “Pepper knew exactly what she wanted.”

  “Down to the fabric,” Rafael said.

  “Drinks are on the house tonight,” she said. “To congratulate Trey on his engagement.”

  Trey smiled. “Thanks, Sophie. That’s nice of you. Is the word out already?”

  “This is Cliffside Bay,” Sophie said. “News travels fast. I stopped into the bookstore this afternoon and Mary told me. She’d heard it from Autumn herself, who’d come in earlier with a sparkly ring on her finger.”

  “It took some doing, but I finally got the girl,” Trey said.

 
; “Have you set a date yet?” Sophie asked.

  Trey shook his head. “Autumn’s deciding if she wants to be a winter or spring bride. I told her whatever she wants is fine with me. All I care about is making her my wife.”

  “The fewer days you’re shacking up with my sister the better,” Stone said.

  Trey arched one eyebrow. “You’ve been living with Pepper for half a year already.”

  “Pepper Shaker wanted her castle wedding in France,” Stone said, with a fatalistic acceptance in his voice. “Planning this kind of wedding takes time. A lot of time and money.”

  “And custom tuxes,” Trey said.

  Stone and Pepper didn’t have to worry about money, given her inheritance from her late father. Sophie kept that observation to herself.

  “I thought my wedding with Lisa was complicated,” Rafael said. “Given Pepper’s plans, I can see I was wrong.”

  “Lisa and Pepper had their weddings planned out before they found their grooms,” Stone said, chuckling. “We’re just along for the ride. Lucky bastards.”

  “Truth.” Rafael tapped his glass against Stone’s.

  “Personally, I’m psyched Pepper chose France for your wedding,” Sophie said. “I’m going early to meet with some wineries over there.” She’d arranged for Bobby to run things while she was away.

  David gestured at her with his pint glass. “Rough gig you’ve got here, Woods.”

  She laughed. “Someone has to do it. All right, I should scoot. I’ve been here since before the lunch rush and have a hot bath waiting for me upstairs.”

  Finally, Nico looked up at her. “You work too hard, Soph.”

  Their eyes locked, and the rest of the world ceased to exist for a moment. “No, I like it this way.” She blinked, and he looked away. “Have a great night, guys. I’ll see you later.” After sharing one of her best fake smiles, she headed toward the bar area. She passed by several couples on the small dance floor, swaying to a ballad coming out of the jukebox. When she arrived back behind the counter, Bobby gave her a concerned look as he put away a stack of glasses.

  “You all right, kiddo?” Bobby asked as he stepped over to her.

  “Yes, fine.” She smoothed a strand of hair from her face. “Just tired.”