Page 49 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

My feet were aching , and my back was killing me by the time the last hockey player left with a belly full of food and beer.

I glanced at my watch. We closed five minutes ago, but I had a few things to do before I could leave.

Muted laughter carried from the dartboard area, followed by a gleeful yell that sounded like Brent and a couple of painful moans from Trevor and Sam.

The sound of their antics softened the tension knotted in my chest, bringing a small smile to my face.

If they were stuck here because of me, at least they were having a good time.

The guys had come here so many times when we were swamped that we devised a system. For each pitcher they filled, they left a tally for Devyn or me, whoever was tending the bar. That way, they didn’t distract us from customers, and we didn’t prevent them from “getting their buzz on.”

Paul left soon after his last dish was plated. I told him I’d make good on my promise to split my tips with him.

I counted the tips left by the last-minute swarm of guys and a phone number courtesy of Dimples.

I tossed the number, my life was way too complicated for that right now, and put Paul’s share in an envelope I labeled with his name before sliding it into the register.

I walked through the swinging door into the empty kitchen. Paul had left it mostly pristine, but I spied a few large trash bags that didn’t reach the dumpster. I couldn’t blame him—he had a family waiting for him to get home .

The muscles in my arms protested as I dragged the heavy bags to the back door. I heaved it open with a grunt, wincing as a blast of frigid air tore through the threshold.

The back lot of Boomer’s was shrouded in an eerie stillness, the creepy factor intensified by the hazy light of the nearly full moon casting long shadows across the pale gravel.

Propping the door open, I grabbed the first bag and struggled to hoist it into the dumpster. My fingers ached from the cold, but after a bit of effort, I managed to toss both bags in. Their clang echoed sharply, bouncing off the surrounding buildings and fading into the unsettling silence.

I paused, brushing my hands together to chase away the sting of the icy air. Something about the lot felt... off. My pulse quickened as a prickle of unease crawled over my skin. The lot was empty, but the sense of being watched wormed its way into my gut.

I shook it off, determined not to spook myself. With a brisk stride, I speed-walked back toward the propped-open door. Relief hovered just within reach, but as I crossed the threshold, a cold hand clamped around my arm.

My breath hitched, panic surging through my body as I was yanked backward into the freezing night air.