Page 4 of Carry Me Home
“Thanks.” I took a sip, let the rich, dark flavor coat my tongue and settle something tight in me. I refused to call it nerves. “Not too busy tonight,” I said, noting the way her gaze slipped over my shoulder to gauge whether the handful of people milling around needed something from her.
“Not tonight,” she agreed. “The weather will keep people home.”
She looked toward the door again. It had grown darker in the last two minutes. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Snow is coming.” She said it softly, more to herself than me.
In this part of Colorado, snow was always coming. The early snow tended to melt quickly under the sunshine, but higher in the mountains, some patches of snow stayed year-round. “Saul will make it home before it gets bad.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I wasn’t worried about him. Saul can survive anything. Like a cockroach, except he’s not nasty. I was just…” Her voice trailed off as she looked wistfully toward the door.
“Some place you would rather be?” I asked, lifting the beer to my lips.
Suddenly I had the full attention of those dark eyes, and the force of it made me freeze with the bottle at my mouth.
“Oh, no,” she cooed sweetly. She bent over the bar and propped her chin on her palm and batted her long, thick eyelashes at me. “There is nowhere I would rather be than right here with you. So handsome. So smart. Such a good tipper.”
And then she chuckled because we both knew that was a lie.
Well, not the part about me being handsome, smart, and a good tipper. That was all true. But that wasn’t enough for Janie to want to be here with me. Her mind was clearly occupied with something else, and I wanted to know what it was. That had always been my problem. I was too curious about people. Too interested in understanding.
All the understanding in the world didn’t make a lick of difference in the outcome. I still had to pull the trigger.
I finally remembered to swallow my beer. I set the bottle down again and delivered a quick, sharp flick to the knot of muscle between my index finger and thumb. It jolted me back to the present. This bar. This woman. No dirt road. And not a turtle to be seen.
“What would you be doing now, if you could do anything you wanted?” I asked. No harm in indulging a little curiosity, was there? I was a civilian now.
She lifted a shoulder. “What would anyone want to do on a snowy night? Make a cup of hot cocoa, snuggle up in bed, and read books.”
“Books…plural? You expecting to get snowed in for a week?”
Her mouth crooked up. “Maybe they’re short. I’m a big fan ofThe Bear Snores On.”
I read a lot of books, but that title didn’t ring a bell. It sounded like a children’s book. A comfort read from herchildhood, maybe? Before I could ask, a glass shattered to my left. Janie jumped a little, but I didn’t move. Loud noises didn’t startle me or let the dark places in my mind swallow me up. The psychiatrist at Walter Reed had taken that as a good sign. I wasfine.
“Excuse me.” Janie stepped away from the bar and pushed through the door to the kitchen.
A moment later she returned with a broom. I rolled the beer bottle between my palms, studying her distorted reflection in the brown glass as she swept up the mess. She dumped it in a trashcan before rounding the bar counter again.
“Ready for another one?” she asked.
My hesitation was brief. Mom and Essie could wait a little longer. “Please.” I nudged the empty bottle toward her. She swapped it for a new one, popping the top off before she handed it to me. “Thanks, hussy.”
Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted. I jerked my chin at her torso. “Your shirt.”
Janie looked down at herself, where the word hussy was emblazoned in bold, hot pink sequins against her black t-shirt. “Oh. Right.” She laughed. “I like to let people know who they’re dealing with up front. Just so there’s no misunderstanding.”
“Noted,” I said.
The door swung open and a man I didn’t recognize prowled into the bar, looking all kinds of aggravated as he claimed the stool two up from me. Janie stiffened, which sent me to high alert.
“You shouldn’t be here, Steven.” Janie braced her palms on the scarred pine bar top and glowered at the man.
I glanced sideways to gauge his reaction. Ready, and suddenly a whole lot more willing. This one at least might make it worth the effort.
Steven huffed an annoyed sigh. “Janie. The one who likes sunflowers,” he muttered.
Janie’s head tilted, her shiny copper ponytail falling over her shoulder. “How did you know I like sunflowers?”
“Chloe’s shoes. James likes columbine, Essie likes red roses,” he said, and my hand flexed at the sound of my twin sister’s name. “Hannah likes violets, you like sunflowers. Chloe likes peonies.” The last one came out wistful.
