June, Reimagined (20)

“Is that right?” Lennox crossed his arms over his wide chest.

“Yes, that’s right.” June’s beer-fueled confidence grew.

“You know me well enough to say that,” Lennox stated.

“Please.” June rolled her eyes. “I know all I need to know.”

“You’re saying I should be more like you? Self-destructive and dangerous?” Lennox asked.

“I am not dangerous.” June pointed at him. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

“I’ve seen your knickers, Peanut. I know a little.”

Angus sat up straighter. “Details, please.”

Lennox smiled devilishly. “And you’ve been naked in the back of my car.”

“When were you naked in his car?” Amelia asked, shocked.

“That was circumstantial,” June explained, “and it wasn’t enjoyable.”

Lennox leaned back casually in his seat. “I don’t know, Peanut. You seemed pretty hot and bothered to me.”

June gaped at him. Her blood was boiling. She had come out to the pub to drown her anger and sadness, not have it brought to the surface by a cocky Scotsman with a Superman complex. June stood, swaying, pint in hand. “I’m getting a shot.”

“Try not to get hurt on your way to the bar, would you?” Lennox said. “It’s my night off.”

June wanted to launch herself over the table and strangle him. Liquid courage coursed through her veins. “You’re just a big old bully. And you know what they say about bullies. They pretend to be tough, but they’re more scared than everyone else.”

“Now, Peanut,” Angus began, “I’ll have you know our lad here—”

“Save it, Angus.” Lennox’s hazel eyes didn’t move from June’s.

“It’s why you make everyone afraid of you,” June spat, “so they can’t get too close and see the truth.” She held the table so she wouldn’t sway too much. “But I’m not afraid of you. You’re just as scared as the rest of us, you just control it better.”

A shadow descended over Lennox’s eyes. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Peanut.”

But June pressed on. “What are you so afraid of, huh, Lennox?”

Everyone at the table was frozen stiff, but June was too drunk to care. She wasn’t going to let Lennox off, not after all his judgment. June felt like a fighter in a ring, gloves up near her face, waiting for her opponent’s jab.

But Lennox broke unexpectantly, his whole demeanor awash with sadness. Gaping, endless, and utterly familiar. A desperate hand reaching through the darkness. June felt it in her core, that identical sadness that lived in her. Like a magnet that had finally found its mate.

“Forget it.” June stumbled to the bar, wanting to wipe clean the connection she felt with Lennox. She despised him. Abhorred him. She needed more alcohol. She needed to drown the unrelenting shame that gnawed at her like a hangnail. June put ten pounds on the bar. “A shot, please.”

The bartender examined her money. “Whisky?”

June could barely see the bottles lining the wall, let alone the labels. She nodded. She didn’t care. When the shot glass was before her, she slammed it back, feeling the burn. She placed the glass back on the bar. “I’ll have another.”





NINE


June awoke to a body next to her in bed. She felt its pressure on the mattress. The body shifted. June peeled back her eyelids but quickly closed them against the penetrating light that threatened to explode her delicate head.

She moaned. The body shifted.

Oh God, she thought. Please say it’s not Angus.

June lay absolutely still. The body inched closer, forcing June to the edge of the bed. She squeezed her eyelids as something large and wet made contact with her face. Slobber covered her cheek, and she rolled over to face a very large brown dog. She sat up in bed, her brain throbbing in her skull. Then she almost threw up.

She was in a bed with a dog, a disturbing fact. But more disconcerting was that June had no idea whose bed. Angus didn’t own a dog. No one at the inn did.

The room was unfamiliar. June searched her brain for pieces to the puzzle of where she was, and how she got there, but her last memory was of the bottom of an empty shot glass.

June grabbed her aching head. Where the hell was she, and what had she done?

Clothes were folded neatly on top of a wooden dresser. A chair sat in the corner of the room. The clock on the nightstand read seven in the morning. June rubbed her forehead. She was definitely not at the inn. Wherever she was, she needed to get out of there. She had work in two hours.

A bright spot—June was fully clothed.

I’m never drinking again, she thought as she stared at the strange, incredibly cute dog. Was that a smile on its droopy face? Was the dog in on the joke? June scratched behind its ears, and the dog nuzzled into her, laying its head on her lap and gazing up at her affectionately. When the bedroom door opened suddenly, June pulled the sheets up, as if covering herself now could renew her dignity.

“Aw, shite. Get off the bed, Max.” Lennox hurried into the room. June wasn’t sure what surprised her more, the fact that she was in Lennox’s room or the fact that Lennox had a dog. “Sorry. He knows better than to get on the bed.”