Coming In From the Cold(14)

"Because I recognize him from the newspaper … shit. He's coming."

Willow pinched the fabric of her top and held it away from her body for a second. She was starting to sweat.

"You look frazzled," Callie said. "But I think you're doing fine. Except you forgot the guy's beer." She pointed at Dane.

"Oh!" Willow said, jumping toward the cooler. She grabbed a bottle out  and uncapped it. "I'm so sorry," she said, managing not to look him in  the eye. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how  thoroughly their fifteen hours together had stirred her up.

"Not a problem," he muttered, "Thank-you."

She made herself turn away, scribbling the lifties' beer count onto Travis's clipboard.

"Willow!" Annie bellowed, setting a plate down in front of Dane. "You gave him the wrong beer. He drinks Corona."

Willow's pencil froze over the paper. Then she turned around slowly. It  was with utter horror that she realized which bottle he held in his  hand.

She'd brought him a Saint Pauli Girl.

Dane was watching her, amusement in his eyes. He held up a hand quickly.  "It's fine," he said, taking a swig to prove it. "I like this one a  lot."

"You're a terrible bartender, Willow," Annie said, hands on her ample hips.                       
       
           



       

"Why don't you say it a little louder, Annie," Willow snapped, her face  flaming. "I don't think they heard you all the way in the back." She  grabbed another order slip out of Annie's hand and walked away.





* * *



Dane watched Willow retreat to her friend's end of the bar. She was even  more lovely than he remembered, her hair shining in the soft light of  the bar. She wore a top that showed off her narrow shoulders, then  flared softly over the top of her slim jeans.

"Callie, this handwriting is completely unintelligible," he heard Willow say. "I think Annie is doing this intentionally."

"Let me look," her friend said. "Pour me a refill, and I'll work on it."

Willow handed her friend the slip and dispensed a pint of UFO Pale Ale into her glass.

"The first one is a prescription for an antibiotic," Callie snorted.  "This is worse than a lot of the things I see at the hospital. Actually,  I think the first one says Apple Martini. The second one starts with an  S. It could be Screwdriver. Or Scotch and Soda? No … "

As Dane watched, Willow plucked a Corona from the cooler. She popped the cap and shoved a lime in the top.

"What are some other drinks that start with S?" Callie asked.

Willow approached, putting the Corona down in front of him. She never raised her eyes to his.

"You didn't have to do that," Dane said quietly, but she'd already turned away, back to her friend.

So that was the way it was going to be. She wouldn't even make eye  contact. But what could he really expect after that fuck-and-run he'd  done? That was two weeks ago. He'd replayed the entire encounter in his  mind a dozen times since. Now that he was back in the States for a  little while, he'd taken care not to drive past her house on his way to  the mountain. He didn't want to have to see the lights on inside,  wondering what she was doing and whether she was alone.

It wasn't any of his goddamned business. And it never would be.

"Starts with an S … Sea Breeze?" Callie guessed. "Sidecar?" Even if Willow  was doing everything she could to stay out of Dane's orbit, her friend  did not pick up on it. "Do you know any?" she asked, looking right at  Dane, trying to engage him in conversation.

His eyes flicked up at Willow before he answered. "Um, Southern Comfort?"

"7 and 7," Callie offered. "Sex on the Beach?"

"Sex in a Jeep," Dane said under his breath as Willow moved past him.

Apparently, he didn't say it quietly enough. Because Callie choked on  her beer, and then began to sputter. She swiveled on her stool to stare  at Dane.

Willow's eyes flashed as she stalked past him toward the lifties. She  said something under her breath that might have been "shoot me."

Dane didn't even know why he'd said it. He hadn't meant to embarrass  Willow, he only wanted her to look at him. But she wouldn't. And now her  friend down the bar couldn't stop looking at him.

Smooth, Dane.

But he'd never been smooth, except while wearing a pair of skis. And in  most of the places he went in a week, that was enough. Win enough races  and people threw themselves at your feet, whether or not you lack social  graces. He was all competence on the snow, and that's where he planned  to live his life, until the moment his body failed him, and they carted  him down on the goddamned ski patrol sled.

He felt a cold gust of air at his back, and moments later a bunch of men  tromped into the bar carrying bowling bags. With her face the color of a  beet, Willow began taking beer orders. And when Annie turned up looking  for her cocktails, Willow handed the slip back to her. "Callie shot  beer out of her nose, ruining this before I got a good look at it. I  think it said Apple Martini and … "

"Sloe Gin Fizz," Annie scowled.

"I guess we didn't think of that one," Callie giggled.

Willow said, "With friends like you … " Then she reached for a bottle of sloe gin.





* * *



As the bar filled with people, Dane knew he should settle up and get the  hell out. Watching Willow was sweet torture, because he couldn't have  her, no matter what. Even so, he couldn't tear himself away. Though  clearly outgunned, she poured beers and mixed drinks with grace and  humor. Every guy in the bar snuck looks at her, hoping for a smile or a  glance.

Dane's mother would have called her a "firecracker." That was her word  for women with spirit. Even though she died almost fifteen years ago,  his mother's favorite phrases had been coming back to him lately. So had  Finn's. He missed the sound of his brother's voice.                       
       
           



       

"Sorry I'm late!" Travis called out, ducking under the bar. The relief  on Willow's face was palpable. "The game went into overtime," he  apologized. "Did everything go more or less okay?"

"It was amateur hour," Annie said, pulling two cocktails off the bar.

"It was amateur hour and a half," Willow corrected. "But nobody's  bleeding," she crossed her arms over her chest. "These guys are settled  up," she nodded at one set of bowlers. "They have a tab," she pointed at  the other pack of guys. "The lifties owe you for six pints. Annie  dropped Dane's check. That covers everyone except Callie." Willow  grabbed a pint glass and began to pull a UFO.

"Nice job, Wills," Travis said. "Who's the UFO for?"

"For me, Trav," Willow said, exasperation in her voice.

"Good," he laughed. "I can't thank you enough." He looked at her the way the rest of the guys in the bar did, hungrily.

Dane had known Travis briefly in high school, before Dane had been  shipped off to train at Burke Mountain. He'd been too much of a loner to  keep in touch with people. But when Dane had begun showing up at  Rupert's Bar and Grill for cheeseburgers and beer last month, Travis had  made an effort to catch him up on the local gossip, including his own.  The bartender had married his high school sweetheart and was now  divorced.

And why wouldn't Travis put the moves on Willow? She was the brightest thing in the room. Probably the whole town.

Dane watched Travis work the room, checking in with his customers. He  was the consummate bartender, always glad-handing, providing the punch  line. He'd been the same way when they were teenagers. All charm, no  substance. He chatted up the bowlers about their league, pouring a beer  on the house for the high scorer. He was easy with people in a way that  Dane never had been.

It was a low moment indeed to find himself jealous of Travis Rupert.

"So how's that man of yours, Callie?" Travis asked Willow's friend.

"Trav," Willow warned. "Not the question."

Travis's eyebrows shot up. "No?"

"I threw him out." Callie flushed. "Caught him … " she rolled her head back, eyes closed. "With a nurse. In an exam room."

"No shit," Travis said.

"And it's not bad enough that I'm living a cliché," she said. "I have to see them at the hospital. Every. Damned. Day."

"Callie, I'm so sorry," Travis said. He put one arm around Willow's  shoulders and the other hand on Callie's. "What is it with you two and  your luck?"

As Dane watched, Travis's fingers massaged the side of Willow's shoulder. And Dane felt an ache in his gut.

Time to leave.