Page 8 of Homebody (The Long Road Home #21)

Chapter Seven

D ean reached the top step and faced the old sign-plastered door of the Muddy River Inn.

It was comforting that this place never changed. It could just as easily have been ten years ago as now.

He stood to the side and pulled the door wide to allow his mother and then his father to enter before him.

Yes, he’d been raised right. Taught to open doors and say please and thank you. But being polite was only part of his motivation for letting his parents walk in first. Entering last allowed him to pause in the doorway and get acclimated to being back home after what had been too long of an absence.

That he needed to get his bearings again, even here in this quirky local bar that was one of his favorite places, felt odd.

It was just a local dive bar. One of the few watering holes in this town still in existence.

The only place for literally miles where a man could sit on a torn, wobbly barstool sidled up to the scarred bar and have a beer and a shot and shoot the shit with both old friends and total strangers. All for pocket change.

There was something to be said for being able to have a good time for an entire afternoon for twenty-bucks. When so many places charged close to that for a single drink nowadays.

Even if there had been other places to go nearby, the MRI would still be where Dean wanted to be. The sight, sound and smell of the place combined to take him back in time.

The old carpet, which was possibly older than he was, was just as ratty looking, though the tear near the bar that over the years had tripped many a person, both sober and drunk, had grown a bit in spite of the duct-taped attempt at repair.

The juke box was just as loud as it usually was this time of night when the day bartender left and the night shift came on and turned up the volume.

The aroma of frying chicken wings wafting out of the kitchen had his mouth watering and a growl rumbling from his stomach.

Okay, his mother was right. Driving directly here from the airport was a good idea—as long as food was the only reason they were here.

Dean stepped farther inside and let the door close behind him as he did a visual sweep of the interior.

Carter, the owner’s son, was behind the bar for the night shift. They hadn’t been in classes together in school but still knew each other well. They should. Dean had spent enough time seated here drinking while Carter had been on the other side serving.

The dark-haired man lifted his chin in greeting when he noticed Dean before he moved on to pouring a beer for one of the usual line-up of patrons filling the stools.

It all looked perfectly normal. Nothing had changed. It was exactly as he’d expect for this place at this time of day.

The real old timers, the octogenarians who propped up the bar’s business during the day, had already departed. The younger generation that made up the late night until closing crowd had yet to arrive. That left space for the evening and dinner crowd.

Seated at the bar were a mix of blue-collar guys still in their jeans and work boots and company logo T-shirts who’d stopped for a drink on their way home from work. One had a burger in front of him, choosing to eat his dinner while seated on a bar stool rather than at one of the tables.

The table seating displayed a more diverse crowd. A multi-generational family comprised of what had to be grandparents, parents and kids crowded a long table by the windows. Perhaps celebrating something or another.

His parents were currently settling in at the round table in the back corner. The one with banquette seating just past the pool table.

Near them two women sat at a small table with three margarita glasses between them.

He hadn’t been home in a while but it was not so long ago that he couldn’t recognize the women. They had turned to study him where he stood between the bar and table seating.

It was Red and Ruby. Local business owners… and overly interested in him it seemed. He noticed them not just looking but outright staring.

At being caught, they both yanked their gaze away before leaning in to whisper something to one another.

Strange. But as far as he knew Red was still dating one of the Morgan brothers and Ruby was closer to his mother’s age than his. Neither of them could be the blind date he’d feared his mother was going to blindside him with tonight after her suspicious behavior in the car.

Maybe they’d just had too many of Carter’s margaritas. He couldn’t be bothered with whatever was going on with them. His stomach had been alerted food was nearby and was making itself known.

Time to get that cold beer and those hot wings his mother had promised him. Once armed with both of those things, Dean might not even care if his mother sprung something or someone unpleasant on him.

In fact, he was so single-mindedly focused on getting to his seat at the table so the waitress would come over and take their order, that he didn’t even see the woman bent over the pool table about to take a shot.

He felt it clearly though when the end of her pool cue connected with his stomach as she drew back to break the balls lined up tightly into a triangle in the middle of the table.

“Oof.”

Her shot was hard enough to send the balls clattering in all directions, sinking quite a few—at least he thought she did. It was hard to tell since he was doubled over in pain.

He clutched his side, still bent at the waist as she spun to face him.

“Oh my gosh. Did I hit you?” Her big brown eyes, made even larger by the dark liner and her long thick black lashes, went wide with her obvious horror at what she’d done.

Straightening as best he could, he waved away her concern. “No. I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I hit you right in the stomach. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to look for someone behind me.”

Even under the low lighting he could see her cheeks had grown red with embarrassment. She was adorable in her shame… and sexy as hell in that tight little top that showed off her generous assets so nicely.

No! He was not going to start something with a local when he was leaving the state again in just ten days.

He reminded himself of that fact as he said, “I’m good. Really. Don’t worry about it at all. You have a good night.”

With one final nod, he forced himself to walk away because dammit she was just his type.

All tight jeans and long legs that ended in bad-ass boots.

And she could actually play pool, unlike so many women who couldn’t so they just hung around the table to flirt with the guys who were trying to have a serious game.

She’d be a nice diversion while he was home…

Maybe, now in his thirties, he’d finally matured because he wasn’t going to even consider that scenario. This trip home was strictly to visit his parents and recharge his battery before heading back to base and what could all too soon be the next inevitable deployment.

He was home to relax, drama free, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

No women. No drama. He’d had enough of both back in Virginia with Lara.

He was definitely not going to hook up with the cutie currently eyeballing him as she lined up her next shot. He wasn’t going to even ask her if he could have next game, since she seemed to be playing all by herself.

Nope. He was going to ignore her and enjoy a meal with his mother and father—even if they were currently both staring at him with wide eyes and odd expressions.

Why?

He honestly didn’t want to know. What he wanted was a damn beer, food, and some peace and quiet.

But when the front door opened and he saw his ex-girlfriend Juniper come strutting in and head straight for the bar he knew. He might eventually get that beer, but there’d be no peace or quiet for him. Not here. Not tonight. Not with her around.