Someday Never Comes

Chapter Nineteen

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The sun was setting and the bar was packed by the time we got back into Defiance. Not an open parking space in sight. Connor pulled the Jeep up alongside a rusted-out panel van and, after a check of the mirrors, put it into park in the lane.

"I'll call you?"

"Absolutely," I said and kissed him for the second time that day, leaning across the the center console to cup a hand behind his neck.

Up close he smelled like sweat and pines trees and Barbasol aftershave; all things I'd been too highly strung to notice that morning. Eagle Scout Yankee Candle, I thought, and knew he had to feel me smiling against his lips.

I made myself pull back, determined to not go all horny teenager on him again.

"You know the bar's number?" I added.

Connor bit back a husky laugh. "You seriously need to get a cellphone, Chris."

"And ruin my old person street cred?"

He raised a hand, dragged a knuckle along the line of my jaw. "New Castle is playing Manchester on Wednesday. If you could get the night off...?" 

Talk soccer to me? Grinning I leaned back in and kissed him again, a quick, intent meeting of mouths.

"I'll try," I said, reaching for the door latch. "Call me Monday."

The hotel's front doors were usually locked, so I dodge my way around a pair of swaying CenturyLink repairman and went in through the bar. Inside it was chaotic, bad country music cranked a few octaves too loud in an attempt to compete with the inebriated Saturday night chatter. Which was, of course, making the natives caterwaul all the louder to be heard over the music.

I gave the scene a once-over: Erin behind the bar, looking harassed; Katie, holding a serving tray, making leisurely small talk at one of the corner tables; Jamie nowhere to be seen - and beelined for the office to turn down the crooning.

When I reemerged and slid behind the counter a minute later, Erin was trying to slice limes. And her fingers.

"Hey now, slow it down," I said, appropriating the paring knife before she succeeded. "Where's your brother?"

"I'm going to murder her," Erin snapped by way of answer.

The accompanying glare in Katie's direction left no need for further explanation.

Well, I thought, that was at least progress in the right direction.

I tried again, slow and steady, hoping I could mellow her out by example. "Jamie?"

"We have so many orders-"

I took her by the shoulders. "Breathe."

"But-"

"Breathe."

She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then spent a few frenetic seconds grinding her teeth before she finally exhaled.

"It's like this every Saturday night. We'll get caught up," I soothed, hands still firmly on her shoulders. "But Jamie was supposed to be here tonight to help you cover. Why isn't he?"

She exhaled again, but this time it was more of a sigh.

"Auntie Paula's truck won't start and tomorrow's the farmers market so she has to have the truck, so Jamie went over to try and fix it and-" she gestured exasperatedly back at the lime, as if that were somehow the evening's chief offender.

"So," I said, sorting through her burst of words and picking up what I guessed was the thread of events. "Since Jamie's playing mechanic, Katie volunteered to help out?"

Erin growled.

"One more time, but in English."

She glared at me, but nodded. "Only she's not helping. She's just running her mouth. She never used to be like this," she added. The 'before you showed up,' was unspoken, but clear.

From what I'd seen and what Jamie had told me of Katie, I rather suspected that Erin was the one who was changing, not her. Better to keep my mouth shut on that point though and let Erin come to her own conclusions.

"You want we should give her the boot?" I asked instead.

"I can't."

"You can."

"She's one of my best friends."

With friends like that. "Then I'll do it. Let me be the bad guy."

"Oh god," Erin groaned." And then, even more forlornly, "Oh god. Her she comes."

"I've got this," I said, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"Little busy in here to be practicing your meditation," drawled Katie, propping an elbow on the bar behind us. "Don't-cha' think?"

Ignoring the barb, I gave Erin a final, pointed look. If you don't want me to do this...

She pulled in a long breath, then said, jaw set in resignation, "I'm going to clear tables."

I let her go, trying not to look as proud as I felt. 

"Thought you took the day off," Katie said, once Erin was out of earshot. Her mouth was curved in what was probably meant to pass for a smile.

I plastered on my best, most saccharine fuck you expression in return and held out a hand for the tray she was still gripping. "Got back early."

Her nostrils flared, lips going thin and all pinched at the corners for a beat before morphing into a smug grin. Swinging the tray out from under her arm, she held it in both hands and placed it on my palm, like a Japanese cashier passing me my receipt.

"I sure hope they don't get too nasty," she said, flicking a glance over her shoulder to the crowded tables. "Once word gets round.'"

She paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to ask what the hell she was talking about; practically vibrating with anticipation. Then, seeing that I wasn't going to play along, she huffed a breath out through her nose.

"Missus Ambrose, saw you this morning," she said, drawing out each word, her apparent glee only slightly dimmed by my lack of cooperation. "Making out with mister fancy doctor in his car."

Not what I'd expected.

I tried to keep the surprise out of my expression, but some of it must have shown because I saw the answering satisfaction flash across her face.

Fixing a sympathetic smile in place, she went on. "And of course she told Pastor Riggs, and well, you know how their generation is."

At which point one of the guys at the end of the bar started yelling for more Heineken.

She straightened up, giving me a final pout of fake-ass concern before taking her leave. "Good luck."