Page 13 of Denim & Diamonds

Brock

“What’s going on, big brother?” Trevor swiveled one of the stools at the bar and hopped on the seat backward.

“How old are you that you still have to sit like that?”

“I’m more comfortable this way.”

“Do you do that when you take a date out to dinner at a nice restaurant?”

He winked. “My dates prefer to cook for me.”

“Probably because you have no manners and sit like that in public.”

Trevor lifted his chin. “I’ll take a Coors Light. Thanks for asking.”

I poured my pain-in-the-ass little brother a beer and filled a glass with seltzer for myself.

“So…” He sipped. “What’s going on with you and Miss Fancy Pants? I was surprised to see you two yesterday.”

I didn’t have to guess who he was talking about. “Nothing. ”

He arched a brow. “Really? I can’t remember the last time I saw you walking around a carnival.”

“Just being hospitable. Showing a visitor around the area.”

Trevor chuckled. “Yeah, right. I seem to remember a tourist who stopped in a month or two ago and asked you for directions to those caves people like to visit nearby. You told him to buy a fucking map .”

“That guy had it coming. He also asked for a pumpkin beer with sugar on the rim.”

My brother smirked. “Also noticed you had the ingredients to make a certain fancy cocktail for Miss Fancy Pants the other night when we were playing cards. Even drove forty-five minutes to get stuffed olives.”

I said nothing because…what could I say?

Trevor was right. I wouldn’t even make margaritas for people who tried to order them.

And when douchey city folk came in and tried to order beer made of apples or pumpkins or some shit, I charged them double for Budweiser so they wouldn’t stay long.

Yet I’d gotten up extra early this morning to take that long drive for olives again, just in case February came in anytime soon.

“I’m not judging.” Trevor smiled. “I’d drive for olives for a woman as hot as February. I’m just surprised you’re doing it.”

“You’re not the only one,” I grumbled.

“So what’s the deal with her? You hittin’ that?”

I pointed at him. “Watch it.”

“How would you like me to ask? Are you and Miss Fancy Pants making mad, passionate love?”

I rolled my eyes. “Christ, you’re annoying.”

Trevor laughed and drank his beer. “Seriously, though. She seems cool. There aren’t too many women around here who can play cards, hold their own with four Hawkins assholes drinking beer, and walk a state fair for hours in high-heel boots and a smile. I’m happy for you, bro.”

“There’s nothing to be happy for me about. February and I are just friends.”

“Why is that? She’s looked pretty into you the two times I’ve seen you together.”

“Because she lives in New York.”

“So?”

“Been there, done that. No thanks on going in for seconds.”

“You mean because of what happened between you and Nina?”

“Unlike you, when I make a mistake, I learn my lesson.”

“Did you talk to February about her long-term plans?”

“I don’t have to. She has a whole life in New York City. Born and raised there, owns her own company—just look at her. Does she look like she belongs here in Meadowbrook?”

Trevor shrugged. “It looked like she was enjoying herself in Meadowbrook last night at the state fair. And it also seemed like she had fun the other night when she played cards with us.”

“The woman would rather freeze her ass off than wear a coat that doesn’t match her outfit.”

My brother rubbed his chin. “I seem to remember she was wearing your ugly flannel last night at the fair. You want to know what I think?”

“Definitely not. ”

“I’m glad you asked. I think you’re making excuses not to see where things can go with this woman because you’re afraid to get hurt again.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I see the same woman as you, bro. She’s a designer-wearing fashionista who probably spends more money on her hair and nails than we do on truck payments.

There’s no arguing that point. But if you keep looking, you’ll also see a woman who didn’t hesitate to play carnival games, got her coiffed hair all messed up going on rides, and enjoys a corn dog as much as she does her fancy drinks.

Stop trying to put her in a box. She can be more than one thing, even if you can’t. ”

I thought about it. Maybe my idiot brother was right for a change.

February did seem to have a good time at the fair and playing cards.

In fact, she’d spent most of the time we’d been together smiling.

Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit.

I rubbed my beard, thinking out loud. “You think she would stay here part time if I went there part time?”

“I don’t know, but I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Why don’t you try slowing down and just taking it step by step?”

He had no idea how bad I was dying for step one— a damn kiss .

I had barely slept last night after dropping February off.

My body physically ached for the woman. Though, if I was going to take the first step, maybe I could sneak in two steps at once and cop a feel of those luscious tits that had been haunting me.

I’d spent hours staring at the photo she’d sent me.

Sometimes doing more than just staring, too.

Trevor knocked back the last of his beer and pushed it to my side of the bar .

“You want another?” I asked.

“Nah. I have a hot date. I met a woman at the fair last night.”

“What’s this one’s name?”

Trevor grinned. “No fucking clue. She told me, but I forgot. I’m going to have to tell her I need to use the bathroom when I pick her up and hope there’s some mail lying around on the counter.”

I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

A few minutes later, I was refilling beers for a few of my regulars when a guy walked in.

He had on a three-piece plaid suit with pants so short his bare ankles were showing.

The dude looked as out of place as February had the first night she’d wandered in here.

He sauntered up to the bar, and I would’ve bet my truck the fucker was going to order wine or ask to use the bathroom.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a cabernet. A two thousand nine or earlier from the Napa Valley, if you have it.”

I frowned. “Got Sutter Home. The bottle’s got a few inches of dust on it, if that’s old enough for you.”

He smiled. “How about a vodka and seltzer then?”

“I can do that.”

He looked around. “Where’s the restroom?”

Two for two . I inwardly smirked and pointed. “That way.”

Plaid Suit came back a few minutes later, and I hit him with a three buck, I-wear-three-piece-suits surcharge and went back to the other end of the bar to talk to Hank, who was here as a regular this evening, rather than the bartender he was two nights a week .

He lifted his chin in the direction of the plaid suit. “New York or California?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t ask.”

“I got twenty he’s from the Big Apple.”

I looked over. The guy was probably early thirties and had hair he spent too much time on, but he wasn’t bad looking.

Sort of reminded me of a Ken doll. It irked me that I thought he’d look the part standing next to someone like Feb.

“Not taking that bet,” I grumbled. “He’s definitely from New York. ”

Hank shrugged. We spent the next fifteen minutes debating whether or not it made sense for me to put solar panels on the house I was building for myself. Then Plaid Suit lifted his arm like I was a damn taxicab.

Hank caught it too and smirked. “Probably jerks off looking in the mirror.”

I chuckled but went down to see what the guy wanted.

“You want a refill?”

“Please.”

I poured two fingers of vodka into a glass and grabbed the seltzer gun.

“Can you make that a double?” he asked. “I’m visiting a woman who drives me fucking nuts.”

“Is there a different kind where you come from?”

He smiled. “Guess not.”

I finished mixing his drink and slid the glass over to him. When he took it, I couldn’t help but notice the big, shiny Rolex on his wrist. “You from New York?”

“How’d you know? My accent?”

I shook my head. “We don’t get a lot of suits coming in here.”

He eyed the deer head hanging over the bar. “That’s probably because we’re afraid you’ll shoot us.”

I smiled. Maybe he wasn’t as big of a douche as he looked. “Taxidermist gets freaked out when we bring him Wall Streeters. He’s worried his stock portfolio will suffer.”

Plaid Suit sucked back half his double vodka. “What’s a taxidermist do on Tuesdays?”

“What?”

“Nothing special. Just the usual stuff.”

I chuckled. “So why does a city boy travel all the way to northern Maine to visit a woman who drives him fucking nuts?”

“Sex, of course. It’s addicting. She’s freaking gorgeous, too. If only I could tape her mouth shut.” He looked at his big watch. “Speaking of which, I should get going. Visiting hours end at four.”

A sinking feeling settled into the pit of my belly. “Visiting hours? She in the hospital or something?”

“Nope. At a wellness-type place. It’s called Sierra something. GPS said it was only about a mile down the road from here.”

I gritted my teeth. “Woman you’re visiting from the area?”

He shook his head. “New York. Don’t ask me why her board couldn’t pick a place closer to home.”

I swallowed. “Her…board?”

The guy knocked back the rest of his drink, pulled out his billfold, and peeled a fifty off, tossing it on the bar. “Long story. But I’ll leave you with one piece of advice. Make sure the mic is off when you bend your archnemesis over the table it’s sitting on.”

** *

Hours later, I was still stewing.

“Hey, Brock. Can I get another beer?”

“You’ve had enough.”

Bill Foster’s brows jumped. “What are you, the Budweiser police?”

I pointed to the door. “Go home to your wife.”

“Seriously?”

I glared at him and leaned over the bar. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking?”