Page 29 of Connor

“You made it. Welcome to Whiteman’s Bar,” Victoria says, grinning as I slip into the booth on the opposite side of her, and Connor follows me in.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful here,” I tell them, relieved to be hiding in the booth, away from all the people, and Tanner gives me a small nod in what I think is appreciation for my words. The look on his face is similar to Connor’s earlier when he drove me here, full of pride, and I’m starting to understand that these two men may run this town, if the size of this bar is anything to go by.

“Great burgers here too,” Victoria says, winking as I grab a menu to look over. I’m not sure of the etiquette with work dinners, but I’m smart enough to know not to order the most expensive thing on the menu, so as the waitress takes our order, they all choose burgers, and I follow their lead.

“So, how did you find the house?” Victoria asks, and I smile.

“It’s lovely, stunning.” It’s the truth. Total luxury and in complete contrast to the two-bedroom apartment I share with Trisha. I make a mental note to text her tonight to let her know I arrived, because I know she’ll want all the details.

“And is your neighbor treating you well?” she teases as she looks at Connor, while Tanner sits back and surveys the atmosphere.

“Hey, I’m a perfect neighbor,” Connor banters, and I grin. It’s good to see him friendly with his staff members, although Victoria and Tanner do look rather cozy for a boss and employee.

“His choice of music can be questionable,” Victoria says playfully.

“Better than yours. Thanks,Mom,” Connor says sarcastically, and I still.Did he just call her mom?I look between the two of them, who continue with their conversation, and then to Tanner. He watches me as I feel confusion and slight panic at trying yet failing to understand this dynamic.

Connor and Victoria look to be the same age. I think back to the woman who owned the florist and who had issues, and I wonder what kind of place have I come to? I look around the bar again. Everything feels luxurious and normal, but am I in a commune or something? Mom hasn’t really told me much about commune life, but I’m sure it looks nothing like this.Shit, is this some small-town cult?

“I can see your head about to explode. Victoria and I are partners. Connor is being a smart-ass,” Tanner grumbles before Victoria and Connor stop talking and look at me.

It’s then I feel my cheeks heat in slight embarrassment at jumping to stupid conclusions.

“Yeah, and my taste in music isn’t that bad,” Connor says before he lifts his glass of whiskey to his lips and looks at me over the rim of the glass.

“I will reserve my judgment.” I want to make a good impression on everyone, yet I’m still trying to figure out the dynamics. I look over to the dance floor again, country music coming from a jukebox nearby and people, young and old, all move in time, doing the same routine. It’s cute. Tanner runs his hand around the back of the booth and around Victoria’s shoulders, and she leans into him a little. They actually really suit each other, despite what must be a massive age gap.

“Hmmm… I didn’t pick you for a judgy person,” Connor comments, and I look up at him.

“Not usually. But musical taste might be where I draw the line.” My love for eighties music runs deep. It was the best era, in my opinion.

“Really?” Connor asks with a grin as he moves in his seat and faces me, Victoria and Tanner now talking among themselves.

I shrug. “Well, music says a lot about a person.”

“So you like more than windpipes and waves crashing?” His eyes narrow on me, teasing.

“Eighties all the way,” I tell him, and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” I nod, wondering why I’m telling him one of my cringiest hobbies.

“I mean, Bon Jovi, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, there’s a lot to love about that era.” His eyes sparkle in delight as he watches me, and I’m enjoying this conversation just as much.

“Well, what’s your favorite?” I ask inquisitively.

“Country, of course.” He tilts his head in the direction of the dance floor. “Dolly and Kenny killed it in the eighties.”

I look back at him as his smile widens. He seems more relaxed now, sitting back in this booth, jeans on, whiskey in his hand.

“‘Islands in the Stream.’ It’s a good one,” I agree, nodding, actually loving that song. I smile at him as we watch each other with what feels like new admiration. Almost like we have crossed an invisible barrier, and I’m starting to think I perhaps misjudged him.

“Looks like we might have another thing in common now, doesn’t it, Daisy?” he murmurs, his thick drawl as he says my name low and almost a rumble. My mouth dries at the sexy sound.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy,” I quip, our eyes still only on each other as I feel my heart thumping a little more rapidly than it has in some time. “I see it now,” I say, not at all covertly. I couldn’t move my eyes from him if I tried.

“See what?” he asks as he moves his arm and places it at the back of the seat, turning his body to face me completely, not dissimilar to the way Tanner’s is at the back of Victoria. The move cocoons us. We’re close, yet I don’t feel contained. I feel safe. Warm. Although that could be the fact that my temperature is rising the closer we get.

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