Page 34 of Almost Home
After shooting off a text to Dahlia, I unlocked the office door and got settled at my computer. Sure enough, I had an e-mail from Wilder from just before we’d left the office.No wonder I’d missed it.But there right above it sat another one, time stamped just five minutes ago.
My heart thumped and I reached for my water and chugged down a few gulps before clicking on the bolded e-mail, which had no subject line. Normally, I’d wonder what kind of psychopath didn’t use a subject line, but in this moment, it didn’t slow me down.
Inside, I expected the e-mail held a few spare words like every other correspondence I’d received from him, but this one was different.
I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry. Please let me buy you a drink tomorrow and make it up to you.
My pulse flew into overdrive as I read and reread the message.
He’d snapped at me, shut down my questions, and now he was asking me out for a drink? My gut had two responses. First?Yeah right, buddy!Second?Yes!I hated that second response, but I understood it. I didn’t want this to be a guilt-motivated apology drink, but I understood the need to make things right between us. I’d been looking for that chance for years and years, hadn’t I? I’d finally gotten it, and so if this small incident between us could be corrected sooner than later and avoid even more awkwardness, then so be it. One less thing hanging out there waiting to be resolved before I left.
I typed my response and sent it before I could second-guess myself. Now all I had to do was figure out what to wear to an apology drink non-date with Wilder.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Wilder
Bruce had departed a few hours ago, and I was left to pace my apartment and try not to hate myself for ever initiating this meeting with Sarah.
Meeting.Right.This was not a meeting, and I knew it. We weren’t doing this as boss-employee, or it wouldn’t be happening at six on a Saturday evening.
No. This was me trying to make up for being an utter jerk to her yesterday for no good reason whatsoever. Or at least not a reason I could explain to her. I couldn’t very well say that I wanted her to know everything about that property and yet couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing my plans. And since I didn’t want to go into work, where I’d think about her, or pace around this lifeless apartment, where I felt caged and annoyed, I threw on my running shoes and took off.
The altitude still had me moving slow, but I ran my eight miles in less than an hour, and that felt pretty good considering I hadn’t run more than three since getting here. After showering, trimming my beard since Bruce had begged me to before meeting with Madeline Reynolds next week and I’d need to do it by degrees since I hated change, and grabbing my keys, I took off to downtown on foot.
I wouldn’t be able to walk into town this easily once I moved to my house. I’d never thought I’d enjoy the proximity to other people or really any measure of civilization, but the convenience of walking to meet Sarah wasn’t lost on me. Thankfully, it wasn’t even a full fifteen minutes from my property, and once I had a house there, I knew I’d appreciate the seclusion.
Craic, the Irish pub where Sarah had suggested we meet, bustled with people. Tall bistro tables were full of weekend revelers sipping drinks and chatting. On the south end, a space for large shuffleboard tables featured what had to be college students cheering each other on for some brilliant move in the game. Just past the tables sat a dart board, currently unoccupied. The dark polished wood bar had people crammed in from one end to another, but in the middle of it all, I spotted her.
More like, my eyes found their way there, like they would in any circumstance, at any time, on any day. My eyes wanted to find and stay with Sarah, and so they did. She wore a pale green dress that left her knees and calves exposed. Her heels looked high, but since she sat on a barstool with her shoes hooked over the footrest rail, I couldn’t tell for sure.
My pulse raced as she turned her head and laughed while tucking her long, glossy blond hair behind her ear.Wait.Who’d put that smile on her face?
Ah—the man standing in front of her, pouring out liquor and shooting her a smile she no doubt found dazzling. The bartender. And of course, bartenders were more successful if they flirted, but this one looked genuinely interested. Maybe he’d just said as much.
My heart thrummed in my chest like a jealous idiot, but my legs propelled me toward her of their own accord. Before I knew it, I’d set a hand on her lower back and leaned down to speak into her ear over the clanging loudness of the bar, telling her thanks for meeting me, right there in front of Sir Charmsalot and everyone.
Sarah’s startled response wasn’t exactly what I would’ve wanted, but I couldn’t blame her. I’d just touched her for the first time since our hands had grazed when I held up her mug last week, and I’d caught a whiff of her delicious scent when I’d spoken into her ear. I shouldn’t have gotten that close.
I wanted to get closer.
“Hi,” she said and looked at me full on.
Probably best she hadn’t done that before I’d reached her, or I might’ve stormed over here and hauled her over my shoulder. That animal instinct in me wanted to claim her right here, right now, in front of all these idiots and especially this dark and stormy character behind the bar.
“That’ll be him, then?” the bartender asked with, of course, a slight Irish accent.
Was this guy for real? I was supposed to believe he was actually Irish living here in Silverton? Though to be fair, the place had diversified exponentially since I’d left two decades ago, and my mom had been bragging on the growth of the town for years now. A small hospital was even going in soon, so why not a true Irish bartender at the local Irish pub?
Sarah beamed back at the man. “Yes, indeed.” She switched her attention to me, and something in me calmed. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I didn’t order for you.”
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Really? I’m committing the mortal sin of having sparkling wine in a pub.”
I must’ve made a face, because she laughed, which sent pinpricks of awareness all over me. She’d always had a great laugh, and she’d done it easily. I’d never been a funny man, but I’d tried my hardest around her.
“I take it back, then. I’ll have the Silver Ridge Brewery’s spring seasonal.”
