The Last One(5)

“What’ll it be, ladies?” He grinned, taking us in with an expression that was appreciative without being creepy.

“Rum and Coke for me, just plain Coke for my DD, please.”

“Designated drivers drink free.” He pulled up the soda hose and filled a glass, set it on a napkin and slid it across to Laura. “Captain, darlin’?”

“Please.” I watched him splash in the rum and then fill the glass with cola. I sipped and nodded, eyes closed. “Perfect. Can we run a tab without a credit card?”

He hesitated. “We usually only do that for locals. But ...” He winked. “I think you two look trustworthy.”

“Here.” I fished my credit card out of my purse and handed it to him. “Just use this.”

He waved it away. “Nah, really. It’s cool.”

I leaned onto the bar, pressing my arms to the sides of my chest so that my boobs popped out, accented by my v-neck shirt. “I appreciate you being nice, but by the end of the night, I might not be able to think straight enough to give this to you. So let’s do us both a favor and just take my card.”

He skimmed his eyes down me, raking over my deep auburn curls, tight black shirt and short denim skirt. He shook his head.

“Whatever makes you happy, darlin’. But listen, you be careful out there. Nice folks around here, but lots of out-of-towners here tonight. Stick close to your friend here.” He nodded at Laura.

“Thanks. Will do.” I turned in my seat and took a long drink, scanning the crowd. There was a wide variety of people, with some guys in cowboys hats and others in khakis and polo shirts. Girls in skirts as short as mine hung on men or chatted with friends. Up on a small stage, a group of musicians in jeans and flannel were unpacking instruments and setting up mics.

Across the room, a guy sitting at a table with three of his friends caught my eye. He wore jeans and a gray t-shirt with his ancient-looking boots. He was drinking a long-neck, and a slow smile spread across his face as he looked me up and down. I kept my gaze on him as I brought my glass to my lips.

“See that guy over there?” I spoke to Laura without looking at her, maintaining the eye-lock with Mr. Sexy Cowboy. “Once the music starts, he’s going to be over here, asking me to dance. Want to lay a bet on it?”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “No way. There’s smolder in those eyes, baby. I think you caught yourself a live one. So what are you planning to do with him?’

I smiled, sipped my drink and pulled my shirt a little tighter. “Anything I want.”





THE ROADS BETWEEN KENNY’S Diner and my house were dark and empty. I didn’t drive them this late if I could help it, but I never missed a Burton Guild meeting, either. The talk tonight had run long, not because we had any exciting new business to discuss, but because old men liked to spin yarns. And even though all of them were at least twenty years older than me, I had enough respect to sit and listen until Kenny shooed us out so he could close up.

I kept one hand tight on the wheel and clicked on my cell phone, hitting speaker button since Georgia had a strict law about using cell phones while driving, and Ali was even more of a stickler about it.

Her phone rang on without an answer. It didn’t surprise me; she was probably still trying to get Bridget to sleep. Either that, or she’d laid down after reading to her, and they’d both fallen asleep. Bridge was seven and the smartest little girl I’d ever known, but she’d always had an issue with her sleep. The pediatrician called it delayed sleep onset disorder or something like that. He said she’d outgrow it, but meanwhile, Ali kept experimenting with different home remedies. The latest was reading her daughter the driest, most boring books we could find. Only problem was, the books put Ali to sleep faster than they did Bridget.

I left a brief message on her voice mail and then tossed the phone back onto the seat next to me. Rounding the curve just before Nelson Road, the headlights of the truck swept over a small blue car, pulled precariously onto the shoulder. I slammed on my brakes, startled.

“Shit.” The back of the truck fishtailed as I swerved, just missing the rear of the other car. I maneuvered off the road, pulling about ten feet in front of it. Turning in my seat, I could just make out the silhouette of a girl leaning of the hood on the car, her head bent.

Cursing old men who like to talk too much, thus putting me in the position of having to help some idiotic female who didn’t know how to deal with an automobile, I flipped on my hazards, jumped out of the cab of the truck and slammed the door.

The girl glanced up as I approached, and I saw she was holding a cell phone. When I got close enough, she held it up.