Page 175 of The Havenport Collection

Wyatt

S ylvie, the beautiful musician, had sat at my bar until closing time, chatting with me and the various patrons, enjoying our new seasonal brew, and nibbling some pretzel bites I brought her from the kitchen.

Although I was so busy I barely had time to speak to her, having her a few feet away from me on the other side of the bar comforted and excited me.

I willed the minutes to go by slower so I could just soak up the feeling of being in her presence. Was Trent right? Was she really single?

At last call, she headed back to the stage to pack up her equipment, and I felt the loss of her presence immediately. I rushed through my closing tasks, keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t slip out without saying goodbye.

“Go help her,” Trent said, whipping me with a bar towel.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“I’m serious. I’ve got this. Go.” He shooed me away, and I headed over to the stage area.

“Can I help you?” I asked, nervously wringing my hands. She was even prettier close up.

She looked up at me through her long curtain of dark blonde hair. “Oh no, it’s fine. I’m sure you have your own work to do.”

“We’ve been breaking down the bar for a while now, and I have a few more things. But I’m almost wrapped up here.”

“Do you have time to have a beer with me? I didn’t really get to talk to you tonight.” Her eyes danced, and I swear I temporarily lost the power of speech. This beautiful goddess wanted to spend time with me?

I almost tripped over my own feet heading back to the bar. “Of course. Anything you want.”

“I’ll take a Helmsman IPA if you have it.”

I filled two pint glasses—ignoring Trent’s smirk—and headed over to the fireplace. Sylvie accepted the beer and slumped into one of the oversized leather armchairs.

She took a big sip. “This is fucking delicious,” she said, licking the foam off the top of her lip. I was mesmerized by the sight of her pink tongue and overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kiss her.

I busied myself sipping my beer. “I agree. It’s why I wanted to work here so badly—they make damn good beer.”

“So you are new. I figured.”

“Yes. Came down from Portland last week. Liam Quinn offered me a brewing apprenticeship. I turned him down at first but then…” I trailed off, angry that I had even brought this up. “I needed to leave Portland, so I loaded up my truck and headed south.”

“That is so cool! So you are a brewer?”

“Aspiring brewer.”

She held up her glass. “To you, Wyatt. You are going to be an excellent brewer.”

I clinked her glass and questioned how anyone could be so kind, so talented, and so beautiful all at the same time.

“Welcome to Havenport. We are thrilled to have you. But, since we’re friends now, I have to ask. Why did you have to leave Portland?”

I pretended to be really distracted by the dying fire as I composed myself.

What could I say? I wanted to talk to Sylvie—something told me she would listen and care about what I had to say.

And for some reason, the humiliation and pain I felt admitting what happened with Rachel stung a lot less when she was around.

So I just let it out. “My girlfriend of three years cheated on me, and I caught her.”

Sylvie rose up in her chair, her eyes dark and angry. “What a bitch.”

I appreciated her response. Rachel was a horrible bitch, and it was nice to have someone recognize that. “It wasn’t the first time either; it was just the first time I caught her. We were… not great together. She was really critical and made me feel bad about myself.”

She grasped my hand and squeezed, and my heart leapt into my throat.

“She said she wasn’t attracted to me,” I said sheepishly.

Sylvie stood up, her face a mask of rage. “What? Is that bitch blind?”

I chuckled; I liked seeing her angry and fired up. It was such a contrast to her cool stage persona.

I stammered, not sure what to say or how to say it. Airing my personal humiliation to a virtual stranger was not how I planned this evening. “I guess, maybe. I was in better shape when we first got together.”

I looked at my feet. I couldn’t make eye contact with the beautiful woman and tell her that Rachel was disgusted by my body.

Sylvie scoffed. “Are you kidding? You look great to me.” She paused.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make this weird.

But any woman with a pulse would be attracted to you, Wyatt.

You are tall and handsome and have the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.

” She squeezed my hand again, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

“And I’m turning thirty this year, so I decided it was time to take my dream of becoming a brewer seriously. So I called Liam and asked if he still needed an apprentice.”

“I hear you,” she said. “Dreams won’t wait for you.” She looked into the fire, her eyes filled with sadness. I wanted to know what was causing her pain and to take away all her worries and her troubles. But I bit my tongue.

We sipped our beers and watched the fire, and I reveled in her touch.

And then I realized it. Until I had just brought her up, I hadn’t thought about Rachel at all tonight.

She used to occupy my every waking thought.

But the moment I saw Sylvie, Rachel faded away, like a distant memory.

The pain, the disappointment, the humiliation—it was still there, but felt lighter, like it was far in my past.

It was like I hadn’t caught her cheating on me two weeks ago, but two years ago. Was this the awesome power of Sylvie? Did she really make the bad stuff fade away and bring all the joy, hope, and excitement to the surface?

I saw Trent finishing up and figured it was time to go. “Here,” I said, taking her empty glass, “let me help you load your car.”

“You really don’t have to help me. I can load my stuff up myself. Do it all the time.”

I shook my head. “I insist. It’s freezing out, and together we can do it faster. Just let me know if I’m handling anything wrong.” I walked over and picked up an amp and her music stand, and we headed toward the parking lot.

She led me through the parking lot over to a grass-green VW bus that looked like it had seen better days. “This is Jolene,” she said, pulling her keys out of her pocket. “She’s old, but I love her.”

I had seen a few of these over the years, but never been inside one. “Is this vintage?”

“Yup. 1974. Found her on eBay a few years ago. I’ve been fixing her up ever since. Someday I will restore her to her full former beauty.” She gently patted the door as she fit the key into the lock.

She slid open the side door, and we got to work carefully loading her equipment inside.

“I’ll go back and grab your keyboard case,” I said, rubbing my hands together in the cold. “You hop in and crank the heat up.”

When I returned to the parking lot, I found Sylvie, sitting in the driver’s seat, banging her head against the steering wheel.

“You okay?”

“It won’t start. Why won’t you start, Jolene?” she yelled, turning the key in the ignition.

She turned to me. “Sorry. This happens sometimes. She needs a lot of work, and the cold weather makes things worse. This is the last thing I need right now.”

Seeing her so distraught stirred feelings within me. I wanted to help her and fix this for her. But it was midnight and fifteen degrees out, and I had no tools. “It’s probably the battery. I’m sure you can leave it here overnight. I’ll text Liam and tell him. I can give you a ride home.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. I can call my friend Eliza.”

“I don’t mind. I have a truck so I can take your gear too. It’s no trouble.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have nothing else to do. And I need to drive around town more, get my bearings.”

She got out of the driver’s seat and closed the door. It was so cold we could see our breath. Even through my thick Carhartt jacket, I could feel the chill in my bones. I had no idea how she was standing here in a flimsy sweater, talking to me, but I would be lying if I said I wanted her to stop.

The moonlight framed her beautiful heart-shaped face, and she kept biting her bottom lip and smiling. It made me want to bite that lip as well, and a lot more.

“Let’s get your stuff in my truck, and I’ll drive you home.”

She nodded, sniffling. I could tell she was upset.

I was about to walk toward my truck when she threw her arms around me in a hug.

Her small arms clung to my neck as she snuggled into my chest. I was taken so off guard I forgot to suck in my stomach as I normally would in this scenario.

I was hit with the scent of lemons and a feeling of deep contentment.

“Thank you, Wyatt,” she said. “I’m so glad I met you tonight.”

I continued to hug her, reveling in the feel of her clinging to me. “Me too, Sylvie.”