Page 13 of Bountiful
“Two margaritas, then,”shesaid.
“Coming right up.” I’d probably be calling these two a cab later. I’d lay moneyonit.
It was a summer Tuesday, and quiet. So I had time to sneak looks at Jill as I made their drinks. I used to think she was so glamorous, with her straight hair and blond highlights. Now she just looked like a tired housewife. And those highlights looked like they required some serious time spent at thesalon.
I wasn’t exactly living the high life here behind the bar at The Mountain Goat, but our lives suddenly didn’t seem so different after all. Like me, Jill hadn’t finished college. After failing to get Benito’s attention, she’d married the high school quarterback. He worked at a car dealership in Montpelier. They had a kid.Ortwo?
Funny how I hadn’t kept track. Who knew that jealousies can dry up and fall away, like autumnleaves?
Jill and her friend drank their margaritas and then switched to white wine. I brought them a plate of potato skins on the house, claiming that anyone having a terrible day deserved carbs. But I didn’t want them drinking all that alcohol on an emptystomach.
“What have you been up to, Zara?” she asked afterthankingme.
“This,”Isaid.
“Fun job,” she replied, and I couldn’t decide if she was trying to be nice or just patronizing me. Or both. That’s how it had always been between us. She’d lend me one of her silk scarves to dress up my poor-girl clothes. But then she’d make sure everyone knew the scarf was hers. The memory sent a flare of ten-year-old angerthroughme.
And then I took a deep breath and let it go. Holding on to that bullshit? I didn’tneedthat.
“This job has its moments,” I said. “But mainly I’m here because it pays the bills.” I wouldn’t play Jill’s reindeer gamesanymore.
“I guess I’ll be needing a job soon,” she said, peering into her wine glass. “I’mleavinghim.”
“Oh, honey,” her friend said, rubbing her back. “You can, but don’t decide tonight, okay? Just take abreath.”
That was good advice, so I backed away. Unfortunately, the bar’s door opened to reveal Jimmy Gage, my least favorite ex-cop. And—damn him—he took a seat at the bar just two stools away from Jill andherpal.
All the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Swear to God, I would have rather seen Griff ShipleyandBlond Audrey instead. Even if they were liplocked and handing out weddinginvitations.
Jimmy waved me over. “Coors Light,” hegrunted.
“Tap or bottle?” I asked quietly, praying he was in a mellow, forgetful mood tonight. Because ten years ago, Jimmy had pulled Jill and I over for speeding on our way to the graduation dance. And Jill had sassed Jimmy and gotten us both into a pile of trouble. There had been big drama. And I’d behaved very, verybadly.
In other words, tonight had quickly become a train wreck of historical, emotional baggage that I’d hoped was behind me. And to think that only an hour ago my new obsession with a certain green-eyed stranger had been my onlyproblem.
“Tap beer,” Jimmy demanded. “Happy-hourprice.”
My nerves jangled. Happy hour had been over for an hour already. Forgetpleaseorthank youfrom this asshole—he wanted half price, too. And I was going to let him get away with it,damnit.
I poured his beer and set it in front of him. He nodded, putting a five onthebar.
After that I was practically tiptoeing around my own bar, just waiting for things to get even worse. And it only took Jimmy a couple of minutes to notice Jill and her friend swilling wine down the bar. “Hey ladies,” he said, his cold eyes measuring them. “Buy you adrink?”
Jill sat back, startled. Her gaze collided with mine, and I looked away. “No thank you,” she said slowly. “We need to slow down our alcohol consumption, Ithink.”
“Diet Coke?” I prompted, reaching for the soda gun. Jill used to love her Diet Coke, which I’d pretended to despise because I hadn’t been able to afford to feed dollars into the cafeteria vendingmachine.
Jill noddedgratefully.
Jimmy was still watching her, though. “You always were an uptight little bitch,” he said. “I heard it’sstilltrue.”
“Hey!” I gasped, stunned that he’d go for the throatlikethat.
The asshole gave us a humorless grin and returned tohisbeer.
And it was right then—at the very moment I’d forgotten all about him—that the door opened on Dave. He sauntered in alone again, passing Jimmy and the two women to take the same barstool he’d occupied only three nightsbefore.
He put his muscular forearms on the bar and studied the beer list. And for no good reason I began to relax. It was almost as if he’d aired out the room with his calm presence. Jill’s friend eyed him appreciatively from one bar stool away, but he didn’t notice (or pretendednotto).
