Page 31 of Touch the Sky

I spin around, and there she is, striding up the sidewalk. She’s wearing the same dark jeans from the grand opening, but she’s swapped her blazer and button-down for a hoodie.

Meanwhile, I’ve gone from being the underdressed one in my muddy farrier clothes to overcompensating with a loose pair of slacks and a polo shirt under my jacket.

“You look nice,” Jacinthe says, before I can start wondering why the hell I thought slacks were the right choice for a small town dive bar.

“Oh.” I pause for a moment to make sure I heard her correctly. “Um, thanks.”

She looks way more chipper than I’ve ever seen her. She’s grinning and bobbing her head to the music bumping inside the bar. If it weren’t for the car keys dangling from her hand, I’d swear she’d already gotten started on drinking.

“Here.”

She thrusts the contents of her other hand out at me. I didn’t even notice the plastic bag hooked around her fingers until now.

“For you!” she says. “It’s leftovers.”

“Um…thank you?”

She barks a laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s not meat loaf. It’s just some little cakes and things left over from the inn. I thought maybe Shel and your mom would be happy if you came home with dessert.”

She rustles the bag, and I reach out to grab the handles.

“That’s very thoughtful,” I say.

She takes a step back, shoving her fists into the front pocket of her hoodie.

“Ah, you know. We’re very neighbourly around here. It’s no big deal.” She nods over at the door into the bar. “Ready to head in?”

I shift the bag onto my forearm. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

The voices and music inside spill out into the dim street like a crashing wave as soon as she opens the door. She grimaces.

“Sorry it’s so busy. I should have known everyone would head here after the grand opening.” She pulls the door all theway open and steps aside so I’ll have room to pass. “Après vous, of course.”

She’s still got that goofy smile on her face, the corners of her mouth stretched just a little too far to look natural.

A tingling sensation bristles on the back of my neck. I almost feel like I’m about to get pranked. There’s no way the woman I met storming around the farmyard swearing at the top of her lungs is now chirping at me like a bubbly Disney princess and offering me little cakes, but I still head inside.

The interior of Mack’s Bistro is a little less divey than the outside would imply. A few strings of blinking fairy lights on the ceiling cast a warm glow over the wood-paneled walls, brown vinyl booths, and lacquered tables. The tang of beer and fryer oil hits my nose while the chorus of a Rolling Stones song fills my ears.

Most of the patrons are sporting hoodies and jeans like Jacinthe, but there are a few sundresses and button-downs left over from the open house to assure me I’m only marginally the most dressed up person in the room.

“What are you having?” Jacinthe asks as we elbow our way up to the bar.

The room is so loud she has to lean in closer for me to hear. A few locks of her bob slip into her face, and she blows them out of the way with a huff.

I rip my gaze away before I end up staring at her pursed lips. My heart is pounding almost as loud as the throbbing bass notes of the song.

I thought maybe I’d exaggerated my epiphany from earlier today, that I’d just gotten caught up in the excitement of a big event where she was the star of the show, but no.

I really am attracted to her.

“Uh…” I scan the selection of taps and end up pointing at random. “That one.”

She gives me another one of those Uncanny Valley smiles. “Good choice. You must have good taste in beer.”

Thankfully, her creepy smiles and overall saccharine demeanor are enough to keep me from making a complete idiot of myself. It’s like getting a bucket of cold water splashed in my face every time she pulls out that toothy grin.

We make it up to the edge of the bar, where the dark wood has been polished to a slick sheen by generations of La Cloche residents resting their elbows. A shaggy-haired kid who’s got to be fresh out of high school pours our pints.