Page 2 of Raised On It (Between the Pines #1)

Mason

S o far so good.

Katie was right. Everyone in Eastlyn has been incredibly friendly, and the local bar is just as she described it.

Much bigger than it appears from the outside and full of life, the bar has booths that line the walls and a long L-shaped bar on the far side.

There’s a dance floor that has seen better days but supplies plenty of room for dancing in front of the tiny stage where a cute little redhead is currently belting out her version of “Firework” and doing a pretty good job of it.

There are a couple of small tables and chairs near the stage as well.

There are cowboy hats, baseball caps, and bald domes adorning the heads of young twentysomethings and older locals. All the women in the bar are the epitome of the girl next door no matter their shape or their size. It’s like the small-town version of Cheers where everybody knows your name.

Beau, the bartender, introduced himself and asked where I was from, not even bothering to pretend there was a chance I was local. He was friendly but not intrusive.

More importantly, he knows how to pour the perfect pint of my favorite lager.

Katie gave me a pretty good rundown on the local cast of characters.

I have a list of names in the notes on my phone, each with a little comment of things I need to know about them.

I know I’m supposed to stay away from the creepy bar guy, James.

If he makes a move, I’ve been instructed to get Beau’s attention, and he’ll take care of it with a look.

Other than possibly falling into bed with the town playboy, she said I should be fine. What was his name again? Hot, sandy hair, charming, farm boy, but what was his dang name?

Oh well, I have no intention of falling for the town hottie. Been there, done that. Well, not a small-town hottie but the playboy of the Upper East Side.

They’re all the same.

I have no intention of going down that road again.

Beau places my order in front of me, and the drool I feel begin to form in the corner of my mouth is clearly an indication of how hungry I am. I had no idea until the food was in front of me, but suddenly, I’m ravenous.

“One Verdict burger, no mayo, no onion with a side of tots. Ranch and ketchup are on the plate, need anything else?”

“I’m all set. Katie said it was the best burger in town, and after a day of traveling, I’m starving. I have a feeling this is just what I need.”

“Katie? Do you mean Katie Sandoval? Are you the house swap gal?”

“That would be me,” I reply, wondering if I should stop sharing so much with a total stranger.

“Of course you are! I forgot you were showing up this week. Katie told me to look after you and to make sure to keep James away from you. He creeps the girls out and has been known to cause a scene.”

“She warned me about him, thanks.” I giggle.

“Well, I got you, girl. Promised Katie I’d look after you. We’re all real proud of our Katie girl. Happy to see her following her dreams and getting her big break. You need anything, just let me know.”

“She’s a sweet girl, and I think the timing was perfect for both of us. The only thing about swapping homes with her is that I won’t get to see her on stage. I have a feeling this is just the beginning for her, though. I’m sure I’ll get my chance to see her another time.”

“Well, all of us here in Eastlyn are glad she’s got a safe place to stay while she’s in the Big Apple. Thanks for setting her up. Again, you need anything at all, just holler.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to hold you to that. Now, let’s see what this burger is all about.”

Beau throws his bar towel over his shoulder and crosses his arms in front of his Verdict T-shirt-covered chest and waits for me to take my first bite of the giant burger. I sure hope this is as good as he thinks it’s going to be. He’s pretty confident.

Squishing the bun as small as I can, I take my first bite, barely fitting it in my mouth. I do believe I have just taken a bite of burger perfection. Beau is right to be confident. It’s delicious.

I moan around my mouth full of food, unable to speak, but words aren’t necessary. Beau knows exactly what I would say if I could, and he gives me a that’s what I thought nod and walks away.

I can’t help but giggle at his gesture. I really think I’m going to like this place if this first meal is any indication.

When I think about where I was yesterday and where I am sitting right now, I can’t help but think this may have been the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

I met Katie at a party just a week ago, and here I am, sitting on a barstool in small-town Oregon while Katie is most likely asleep in my Manhattan apartment overlooking Central Park.

When the two of us hit it off at Lala’s party where we were celebrating the new cast of what will hopefully be the next Broadway smash The Lights , everything just happened.

She had been telling me about her hometown of Eastlyn, the town that also happens to be the home of my favorite beer, and when I said it sounded like the perfect inspiration for the new small-town series I was writing, she said I should come stay at her place while she’s in New York for the next three months.

When I realized she wasn’t joking, I asked her where she was going to be staying.

She said she hadn’t worked it out just yet, and this gave me the idea.

I suggested she stay in my apartment, and I go to Eastlyn.

This way, she’d be comfortable and safe in the city, and I’d have the perfect reason to escape everyone and everything and hopefully find some inspiration along the way.

It took five minutes to figure out, and a week later, here we are.

When I first got to town, I thought for sure I had made a mistake.

I was surprised and a bit shell-shocked.

Katie told me it was a small town, but I had no idea just how small it was.

I mean Main Street is just that, the main street in town.

There is only one stoplight, and the focal point of the town is the courthouse and the big white church at the end of town.

Katie’s house is small but incredibly cozy. I thought I had known what shabby chic was, but I really never had any idea until I opened the front door to Katie’s place. It’s feminine and comfortable, just what I need. I felt inspired instantly.

Then I walked into this place, and the doubt crept back in.

It’s one thing to be alone in Katie’s adorable house but another to be out amongst the locals where I’m the only person who doesn’t know somebody else in the room. Fortunately, Beau and my Verdict burger have me feeling back at ease.

Besides, it’s too late now .

I’m here, and Katie’s there.

This is happening.

I wash down my last bite with the last of my beer and pop a tot in my mouth. When was the last time I had a tater tot? I can’t help but feel I’ve missed out on so much by not having them in my life regularly.

Burger. Beer. Tots. Ranch dressing. Does it get much better?

“Another beer?” Beau offers when he sees I’ve drained the golden deliciousness that once filled my pint glass.

“I shouldn’t.”

I can hear my wishy-washy tone before Beau lifts an eyebrow in question because he knows I really want to say yes.

“Fine, yes. One more but only one!”

“Nobody’s twisting your arm, honey.”

“Gah, I know! I just can’t believe I’m sitting in Eastlyn drinking EBC. Dreams really do come true.” I laugh.

Alternating between ranch and ketchup, I continue eating my tots at a leisurely pace. The karaoke is off, and the house music is playing classic 90’s country and I can’t help but turn around on my stool to check the place out some more.

When I do, I’m hit square in the chest with that what have I done feeling again.

Tables full of friends talk and laugh, and when I catch the eye of a table full of women who look to be my age, I can’t help but feel as though they aren’t happy to see a stranger—make that a female stranger—in their bar.

I can’t turn around quickly enough and am resigned to the fact that if I keep my back to everyone, I won’t be reminded just how out of my element I am.

But I try to remind myself that this is the first night, and I’m here to write, not to make friends.

At least I have Beau on my side already. I guess I’ve made a friend, after all.

Still, I think I’ll throw this next pint back quickly and get the hell out of here and head back to the comfort of Sycamore Lane where everything is throw pillows and all things cozy .

Out of nowhere, I’m covered in goose bumps when a feeling comes over me that I can’t explain. Something that says don’t ask for the check just yet.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” a deep voice says from the barstool next to me.

What the hell?

“Excuse me?” I say, staring at the baseball game on the TV above the bar. I couldn't care less about baseball, but with what his voice did to my body, I’m scared to death to face the person attached to it.

“I knew it the moment you walked in.”

Is this guy for real?

“Wow, does that pickup line really work?” I reply, still without looking at him.

I’m such a chicken.

“Nah. I don’t really need to use pickup lines in these parts.”

“Who are you?” I ask the TV.

“Miles Montgomery at your service. What can I get you?” His voice is like butter, and I’m melting on the spot with every word he speaks.

My brain is yelling at me to get a grip, but my lady parts are finding it hard to fight his charm and silky-smooth voice.

Oh, this is not good. I can feel it.

Wait.

Miles Montgomery.

His name is on my list as one to watch out for.

Shit.

Knowing I need to proceed with caution, I slowly twist my head in the direction of the deep baritone voice that came from what was once the empty stool to the right of me.

Sandy hair. Check.

Caramel eyes full of trouble. Check.

Bronzed skin that says my days are spent outside and I’m probably a farm boy. Check .

A smile that could disintegrate a fragile pair of lace panties without even trying. Check.