Dirty (Dive Bar #1)(24)

“That’s not my name.” The dandelion fell apart on a warm breeze, drifting off to who knew where.

“All right. Come tonight and I’ll never call you babe ever again.”

“Never ever again?” I sized him up over the top of my sunglasses, judging his sincerity.

“You have my word.” With deliberate slowness, he drew a cross over his heart.

The amount I owed the man was big. Huge. But then so was the thought of going out into the public arena and risking death, dismemberment, and some really nasty gossip. Bitches be everywhere. But also, he was right. I did have to go out sometime.

“Okay.” I held out my hand.

He shook it. Then kept holding on, gazing deep into my eyes.

“You’re going to have fun, Lydia.”





CHAPTER EIGHT

I was not having fun. Mostly, I was fighting the urge to puke. Though in all honesty, the state of my stomach had more to do with my hangover than anything else.

The Bird Building wasn’t a mall. Basically, it was a ninety-year-old two-story brick monster in midtown, the ground floor a neat line of retail spaces facing the street. First were a couple of empty shops, the windows covered in aging notices of bands playing in town, lost dogs, street fairs, and the like. Next was the Guitar Den, a tattoo parlor called Inkaho, then the Dive Bar taking up the prestigious corner position.

The Beatles played, filling the warm evening air along with the sounds of cutlery and glassware, the hum of chatter. It flowed through the open windows and doorway of the Dive Bar out onto the quiet street. It looked like they had a decent-size crowd for a Sunday. People flocked to town each summer, but most seemed to stay downtown by the lake. I bet the bars and shops there would be full. Midtown, away from the water, tended to be quieter. More for locals.

With a hand hovering at my lower back, Vaughan ushered me along the sidewalk.

“I’m not going to make a run for it,” I said, yet again tucking my hair behind my ears, straightening out the imaginary creases in my black linen button-up top.

The side eyes he gave me were full of doubt. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Liar.”

“The fact that I had to manhandle you out of the car—”

“Signifies nothing more than how very cool I think your car is.”

“Right.” I could tell he was laughing at me on the inside. “Come on, single lady.”

*

Not so subtly, he took hold of my elbow. The muscles in his arms flexed as if he expected some great escape attempt to happen at any moment.

Liking people was a bitch. Same with giving your word.

As we approached the building, I said, “I’ve been thinking about your money dramas. Wondering if I can help?”

He licked his lips. “You’ll pretty much do anything to delay this, won’t you?”

“I’m serious, I’ve been worrying about you all day, what with Nell not being able to buy the house like you’d hoped. I realize we haven’t known each other for long, but I’d like to help somehow if I can.”

A sigh. “I’m going to have to sell it to someone else. It’s going to suck, but that’s where my situation’s at.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He wiped a hand over his face. “Don’t suppose you’d like to rethink your leaving town plan and make an offer?”

“I wish I had that kind of money. And a job.” A couple of years in real estate had enabled me to make a start on some savings. Nothing like what the Sanders Beach home would fetch, however. “I could give you some advice on the market, point you in the direction of a good agent and so on.”

“Yeah, ah … let’s talk about this another time. All right?”

“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks.”

A couple of young women passed us by, one doing a double take when she saw me. Next thing you knew, her mouth was going rapid fire against her friend’s ear. The friend turned back to look at me, giggling. Ugh.

“Maybe tonight’s a bit soon,” I said, edging back a step. “I mean, you need to concentrate on the bar and, really, Nell will be busy cooking, so—”

In one smooth move, he stepped in front of me, turning so we were face-to-face. His hands grabbed hold of my hips, drawing operation “get the hell out of here” to an abrupt halt. “Lydia?”

I blinked. “Vaughan?”

“We’re going in there and it’s going to be okay.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

He swallowed, stopping a moment to think. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Everyone could point and laugh at me, forcing me to relive the shame and horror of yesterday.”

“Yeah, true.” Fingers rubbed at the wide hips of my jeans as he held his face down close to mine. Not doing anything, just being there. “How’d you get through yesterday, though?”

“Running away, you, sarcasm, violence, and last but not least, tequila.”

“You can have everything today apart from the running away,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“You want me to answer that honestly?”

“Nope. You’re going to have fun, Lydia.”