Page 81 of The Front Runner
I watch her walk up to the bar, cringing at the way heads turn as she passes. I could take off a few heads for looking at my baby sister the way they are right now, but I haven’t held that kind of role in her life, and it would be weird to start now. So, I won’t.
Instead, I glance away, scanning the rest of the bar. Taking it all in, until my eyes snag on an ass I’d recognize anywhere. An ass cupped by the denim I pulled down mere hours ago.
Mira is digging through that godforsaken popcorn machine with a scoop in one hand and a basket in the other.
I’ll be happy to take care of her when she inevitably gets sick after this. That’s how much I like this girl. I’m looking forward to holding her hair back while she hurls.
I find myself peering around the bar, wondering why the hell she’s here when she said she had a meeting with Hank. She wouldn’t be here with someone else, would she? After everything we’ve done together? Everything we’ve shared?
I can’t imagine it, but it doesn’t stop my gut from churning and my heart rate from ratcheting up. If Mira wasn’t with me, what kind of guy would she be with? My eyes scan the bar, hoping upon hope that she wouldn’t lie to me.
There’s a lot I can tolerate. But lying isn’t it. After my life, it’s a hard line for me. Anxiety creeps up over my sternum as I let my paranoia run away with me.Somethingfeels off. I just can’t pinpoint what.
But then I find Hank sitting alone at a cozy two-person table, beside a roaring fireplace in the back. My body relaxes as I watch Mira smile in his direction and head back that way.
She’s almost at the table when she’s intercepted by Nadia. Her body tenses. I see her lips moving, asking who Nadia is here with, as she looks around nervously.
Something is definitely off.
Nadia greets Hank, and he smiles back with a quick wink. And then when Nadia points at me, Mira’s eyes shoot in my direction. She smiles, but it’s tentative. She waves, but it’s small.
Not one to back down from an awkward situation, I stand and walk across the room, approaching the small table and watching Mira’s eyes go more round with every step I take in her direction.
She hasneverlooked at me like that. I feel like I’m watching my own life play out before me.
“Stefan. Hi.” She pushes the loose strands from her ponytail behind her ears as she takes a seat. Across from Hank.
“Sir.” I reach toward the man and offer my open hand.
He grins, looking between Mira and me as he shakes my hand.
“Oh, please. No need to call me sir, son. We owe you a big thank you for taking on our little guy the way you have. Mira tells me you’ve named him Loki?”
The apples of Mira’s cheeks pop up as she looks away shyly. Sounds like someone has been talking about me.
“Yeah. The name fits him well. He’s a mischief maker. You’re going to have your hands full with this one.”
Hank shakes his head. “Not me. Billie. I’m too old for projects like that. She can play bucking bronco on her own.” He grins. “Loki. The God of Mischief. I like it. The funny part is...I think Billie will, too.”
We all chuckle, and then Mira says, “Hank and I have something of a standing date here on Tuesday nights. You know… as the two unattached people at the ranch.” I don’t know why she’s acting so nervous. Like I’d be mad about her going out for dinner with a man old enough to be her father. “I’ve missed a couple times, so here I am. Making it up to him.”
“You brought him to this dive to make it up to him?”
Mira’s cheeks pink as she lifts her pint of beer to take a long swig.
My brow furrows as I take her in. Something passes between us, and I get the sense she wants me to leave. But before I can go, Hank pipes up.
“Aw, nah. I love this place. Did Mira tell you I used to bartend here?”
Mira freezes, pint glass held high as her eyes bore into mine over the rim. All the sounds around us blur to white noise as I drag my eyes off of the woman I thought I trusted to take in the man sitting across from her.
His features hit me rapid fire. Like bugs against a windshield. Eyes.Splat.Hair.Splat.Square jaw.Splat.
My breathing becomes labored. It feels like someone has doused me in scalding hot water. Intense feelings of betrayal course through my veins. My layers of composure slough away. I turn back to Mira, her pint glass now placed back on the table and her eyes giving me a sad pleading look as she nervously wipes at her lips.
She knew.She knew.
And she didn’t tell me.
