by Cindi Madsen
As soon as she walked into the bar, she let herself take in the familiar dark wood paneling, the country song overhead, how she could think of a memory at nearly every table. It was Daddy’s go-to place at the end of the day, where he knew everyone and they all knew him. She remembered thinking he must be practically famous, especially when they gave him 20 percent off every bill—the “serviceman special.” Whenever Mom found out he’d taken Faith there, she’d tell him it was an inappropriate place to bring a teenage girl.
Dad would say, “It’s not like I ordered her a beer. I do know a little something about the law, you know.”
Then Mom would huff and Dad would go over and wrap his arms around her, and she’d give up being mad. But she’d strongly suggest they choose a different place next time.
And the next time, they’d go right back to the Rusty Anchor. The fries were the best—there was no arguing that.
Faith approached the bar and let her eyes drift to the spot she’d been both anticipating and fearing looking at. Daddy’s picture was still there, right next to the framed article about him, the hero policeman who had died in the line of duty.
The picture was of him in his navy uniform, his dirty-blond hair combed back, big smile on his face. A twinge went through Faith’s chest as she thought about the fact that he never got a chance to grow old. See her graduate high school or college. Get to know his daughter-in-law or granddaughter. The hollow ache she always got when she thought of him opened up, sucking happiness out of the space around her. She’d always been a daddy’s girl. At one point, she’d even told him she wanted to grow up to be a cop like him. She hoped he wasn’t disappointed she’d gone another way. Or that she’d gotten mad at Kaleb for following through on his promise to do the same thing.
“Can I help you?” the girl behind the bar asked.
Faith pulled her gaze off Daddy’s picture and ordered the burger and fries. She got the house beer, because that’s what Dad would’ve ordered. As the bartender was filling up her glass, Boyd Elkins came over. He owned the bar and had gone to school with Dad.
“Ain’t you Paddy Fitzpatrick’s little girl?”
Faith nodded. “Hi, Boyd.”
“I can hardly believe it. You used to be just a little thing. Guess you never grew much,” he said, eyeing her height. Well, nice to see the guy still liked to hassle everyone. Some things never changed, and there was as much comfort as grief in that. “How’s your mom?”
Surely Kaleb must’ve updated him now and then, but she supposed it was an easier question to ask her. “Good. My grandparents are happy to have her, and she likes Virginia.”
His eyebrows drew together as if he just couldn’t compute liking somewhere else. Most people who grew up here didn’t know why anyone left. She supposed most of them didn’t have a reason to. Boyd patted the waitress on the shoulder. “Her drink’s on me. And give her the serviceman discount on anything else she orders.”
“You don’t have to…” Faith started, but he was already moving away, off to help another customer. She took her drink to the corner to wait for her food. She liked to watch people, see the different types and how they interacted. Analyze them a little and guess what made them tick. There were three waitresses circling the room, all very pretty and in their early-to-late twenties. The crowd was a bit younger than it used to be, too. They were closer to Faith’s age now, when they used to be more like Dad’s. Or maybe her memories were skewed that way, since she’d been a teenager when she frequently ate here, and everyone had seemed older.
She tipped up her beer and took a long pull. The last thing she’d expected when she’d bolted from town the week after she graduated high school was to end up back here. Up until two months ago, she thought she’d laid permanent roots in Atlanta. It was a big deal for her, too. Usually she got antsy staying in one place for too long. She’d survived six years in Atlanta, albeit she’d moved seven times. It was one reason she’d hesitated when Jeff mentioned he’d found a great deal on a condo. Her palms had itched when she thought about that long of a commitment to one place, but then he’d wrapped his arms around her and asked her to move in with him, and she’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. She wondered if he ever cared, or if he just needed someone to pay half the bills.
Now she needed a new life plan, and coming back to the tiny town she grew up in felt like going backward instead of moving forward. But she supposed coming here, facing Daddy’s picture and the pull of memories, was step one of changing her run, hide, and avoid defense mechanism. While there was an edge of sorrow, she liked being here, thinking of the good memories with Dad. It was more empowering than she thought it’d be. Step two was going to take some serious build-up, but she thought if she faced her past and got over the fears she still struggled to let go of, she could finish the healing process and truly move on with her future.
The internship in Charlotte was a one-year program. She was hoping to break her pattern and find a place to live, with a solid career to follow—no more running when life got hard. Maybe I’ll even find someone who wants to settle down with me for real.
The door of the Rusty Anchor swung open, automatically drawing her attention, and in walked Connor. One of the waitresses greeted him with a smile and he grinned right back. They exchanged a few words—Faith couldn’t hear them, but she supposed there was purring from her and a cheesy pick-up line from him. He started toward the bar, and Faith wished she had a menu to duck behind.
His eyes moved across the room and she dropped her head, hoping he wouldn’t notice her, and making sure he at least didn’t think she was staring at him. He headed straight to the bar and nodded at the waitress there, who leaned over the bar and smiled at him. Their exchange was different. More familiar.
Not like I didn’t know he was that way with every girl. Still, there was a twinge of disappointment. Why am I always so attracted to players?
The waitress brought her food, which at least blocked her view of Connor. Plus, fries, so bonus points. The second she moved, though, Connor was not only in Faith’s line of sight, but also coming toward her. He settled in the seat on the other side of the small circular table. “Hey, Blondie. You never called.”
“I’m sure you’ve been sitting waiting by the phone, too.”
He reached across and snagged one of her fries.
“Haven’t you heard of personal boundaries?”
“Overrated.” He signaled the waitress who’d just brought the food and gestured to Faith. “I’ll have what she’s having. Except just water to drink.”
“Sure thing,” the waitress said, beaming at him.
When she was gone, Connor nudged Faith’s foot with his. “Good guess, figuring I’d be here.”
“I did not…” Faith clenched her jaw, knowing the less she gave him, the less he could send back at her. “There are a lot of other open tables. Maybe you and your ego would be more comfortable at one of them.”
Connor leaned back, hooking his fingers behind his head. “Naw. I’m good here.”
Faith picked up the glass ketchup bottle and shook it, but the red paste remained inside. She picked up a butter knife to try to get some out, but Connor reached over and took the bottle.
“Here. Haven’t you ever heard of the magic fifty-seven bang?” He waggled his eyebrows, then pounded the bottle over the fifty-seven on the glass and a puddle of ketchup landed on her plate.
“Thanks,” she begrudgingly said. “That’s the only bang you’ll be getting over here, by the way. So you might want to put your efforts toward one of the waitresses.”
“Not interested.”
“Right. Because you already slept with all of them.”
“I have not.”
“So the girl behind the bar…?”
Connor pressed his lips together. “That’s different. She was my girlfriend for a while when I was in the academy. We’re just friends now.”
Well, at least he hadn’t straight-up denied it. “How long did you
date?”
“Oh, no. I’m not going into exes, unless you’re willing to offer up stories of yours first.”
Since hers were all examples in dating disasters and the last one still stung, there was no way that was happening. “Fine. Right now, we’ll just focus on who we’ve slept with in this room.” Faith made a big show of looking around. “Okay, that’s no one for me.” She tilted her head toward the waitress who’d greeted him and raised her eyebrows.
He exhaled. “Once. Months ago. I come here all the time, and it’s a small town. Why’s it matter to you?”
“It doesn’t. I’m simply making a point. I’m not interested in being another in your long line of women. Now I’ve saved you several hours and skeezy lines you can use on someone else. You’re welcome.”
Two creases formed between his eyebrows. “My lines are not skeezy.” He actually looked hurt—or maybe he was only pretending. Either way, she wondered if she’d been too harsh. Then again, she needed to be harsh. With him and herself. Because once you found your boyfriend with someone else’s legs wrapped around him, it was too late to avoid being hurt.
Faith shrugged and tossed another fry in her mouth.
“Besides, I didn’t come over here to hit on you,” Connor said. “You just looked lonely sitting all alone, and I thought I’d come keep you company. Be friendly and the like. I’m not as diabolical as you think.”
Their waitress came over and sat Connor’s drink in front of him. “Your food will be right up,” she said, batting her eyes at him. “And if you need anything else, let me know.”
Once they were alone again, Connor folded his forearms on the table and leaned in. “For the record, I haven’t slept with her.”
“You’ll forgive me if I figure most everything out of your mouth is bullshit.”
“Well, with you, I figure it’s going to be all bitchiness.”
For a moment, they glared at each other. Then the waitress interrupted the stare-down by placing a beer in front of Connor.
“I only ordered the water,” he said, glancing up at her.
“Oops. Must’ve been for my other customer. Why don’t you just go ahead and take it while I get it all sorted out.” She flashed Connor a flirtatious smile. “Sorry, it’s only my second day and I’m still getting the hang of things.”
As soon as the waitress was gone, Faith raised an eyebrow at Connor.
“Don’t say it,” he said.
She sat back in her chair. “I don’t think I have to.”
…
Connor sat at the bar, where the waitress had set his food and a napkin with her name and number on it. He’d left the free beer that had cost him quite a bit as far as Faith was concerned and had moved to one of the barstools. Irritation coursed through his veins and he gripped the glass in his hand tighter. How dare Faith make him feel bad because women liked him and he liked them back. And what business was it of hers who he’d slept with?
She’d looked so smug when that waitress announced she’d only worked here for two days, and he could see her thoughts all over her face. Like he actually couldn’t control who he slept with.
He shouldn’t have gone over there in the first place. After the talk with Kaleb this morning, he’d decided to keep his distance from Faith, sure that’d be all it’d take to get her out of his head. But then she’d been sitting there alone, and he thought it’d be rude not to go talk to her. It was like he couldn’t help flirting with her once he was next to her, though, his attraction speaking louder than his brain. And then he’d somehow gotten pulled into a fight that got way out of control, past their usual banter and into contempt.
Well, he was definitely cured of his interest in Kaleb’s little sister now. Give him a woman who wouldn’t make him feel like shit. He doubted he could come back from the angry exchange they’d had anyway—he shouldn’t have lost it like that, telling her he expected bitchiness, regardless of what she’d said first. Now she was sitting over at her table, pretending he didn’t exist as she hurriedly ate her food, and he was sitting at the bar, doing the same thing.
I bet it’d piss her off if I flirted with the waitress. If she’s gonna accuse me of being with them all, I might as well have the benefit of being guilty of it. He caught the dark-haired girl’s attention and she rushed over—leaving her other table in the lurch from the looks of it.
He cast one glance at Faith and she ducked her head as if she hadn’t been watching. That was another annoying thing. He could see the way she looked at him. Why pretend she wasn’t as attracted as he was?
It doesn’t matter, because she’s not an option anyway.
Only now that the waitress was here, blinking her eyes at him, he found he didn’t want to piss off Faith. For one thing, he’d see her all the time, and he didn’t want things to be weird every time he went over to Kaleb’s. And he swore he could suddenly feel the picture of Faith’s dad staring at him, another reminder of why he didn’t want to hurt Faith, even if she didn’t give a damn about him.
The waitress put her hand on his arm. “Did you need something, Sugar?”
“Yeah, that woman I was sitting with? Add her meal to my bill, will you? And go ahead and bring it to me as soon as you get a chance. Please.”
“And that’s it?” the girl asked, a hopeful glint in her eye.
She was plenty pretty, but he wasn’t even interested enough to keep her number as a just-in-case. “That’s it.”
Chapter Four
“Aren’t there pregnant lady labor laws or something?” Faith asked as she took one of the rakes and a small spade shovel from Anna.
“In order to get a good location at the festival for my pottery booth, I basically had to sell my soul to Mrs. Lowery. I signed up to head the park cleanup and decorating committee, and promised to make three pies for the pie toss. I even signed up Kaleb for a couple things, just to make sure I was on her good side.”
“That woman’s a total slave driver. I remember when she was in charge of the town pageant and made us practice until we were in danger of passing out.” Faith had spent the last few days helping Anna get the baby room ready, but she said she couldn’t put off cleaning up the park any longer.
Anna leaned her rake against the car and opened the door to get Ella out of her seat. “Remember to stick close,” she said, and Ella wiggled down and took off running toward the gazebo. They’d had to wait until after her nap was over to avoid meltdown, so the sun was already low in the sky, sunset only a few hours away. At least it wouldn’t be too hot.
“There you are!” Mrs. Lowery strode toward them, arms swinging and an expression on her face that said she was on a mission. “I was starting to think I’d have to do everything myself.” Wanting to take the pressure off Anna, Faith opened her mouth to assure the older woman that she didn’t need to worry, but Mrs. Lowery pinned her with a look that made her want to run in the direction Ella had gone. “Are you back in town now?”
“Um. For a little while.”
“Great. After this area is cleaned up, flowers will need to be planted. Go to Sprouts and ask them for the mums and daisies. Make sure to spread them out around the gazebo so that you can see flowers no matter where you’re at.”
“But I—”
“Apparently a few of the town’s tents have holes in them, so I’ve got to see just how bad they are, and if we’re going to need to place a rush order for more.” Mrs. Lowery sighed a martyr’s sigh. “If I don’t take care of things, no one else will.” She shook her head and then was off, arms swinging again.
“Welcome to the cleanup and decorating committee,” Anna said with a smile.
Faith slid on a pair of gardening gloves. “I knew I should’ve gone into Charlotte to look for an apartment today,” she joked, though she was glad she could help Anna out. Especially when she saw just how messy Magnolia Park was—from the looks of it, no one had taken care of it in a while.
They got to work, raking leaves and pulling weeds. “Mrs. Lowery really
expects you to do this all on your own?” Faith asked as she tugged on a stubborn dandelion.
“Oh, there’s a group of us, but everyone keeps flaking out, claiming work or family obligations, and since I’m lucky enough to be the leader of the group, I get all the phone calls with constant reminders of how I only get a discount on a booth if I do my assignment.” Anna wiped her forearm across her brow. “Ella, get down. Now.”
Ella was halfway up the railing of the gazebo, one leg over the edge. She froze in place at her mom’s voice. Faith wasn’t sure if all nearly three-year-old kids loved danger, or if her niece was just some kind of toddler daredevil. The girl couldn’t seem to sit still, and the more dangerous the task, the more she was drawn to it. Between keeping an eye on her and all the work, an hour passed in a heartbeat, and they still had a long way to go.
Faith hoped Mrs. Lowery didn’t think the flowers were going to get planted today. She couldn’t help noticing the gazebo looked pretty beat up, too, shingles missing, the lattice coming apart, and a plank sticking up that Ella had tripped on at least three times. A ladder was propped on the side, too, which Ella took as a challenge, so Anna eventually had to lay it flat on the ground to keep her from climbing it.
With nothing but work to focus on, Faith’s thoughts drifted, and one thing kept coming to mind, even though she tried to stop it. More like one person. She hadn’t seen Connor since he’d paid for her dinner the Rusty Anchor. She still couldn’t believe he’d done that after everything she’d said to him. It’d left her with an unresolved nagging feeling, and she told herself that was all it was. That she was glad he’d stopped being so inescapable.
But since she had to keep telling herself over and over again, she was having a hard time convincing herself it was completely true.