Not Pretending Anymore(65)
My mouth hung open. “Well, I don’t even know what to say.”
His brow lifted. “Say you’ll come with.”
“Yes!” I sat up to hug him. “Yes, of course I will—assuming the situation with my dad allows.”
“I don’t want you to stress about that either. If we book tickets, I’ll get insurance in case we have to change our plans.”
Amazing. Will seemed firmly in the commitment camp tonight, and it felt like I’d won the lottery.
CHAPTER 25
* * *
Declan
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself.
It was Thursday evening, and I didn’t have to be back at work until Tuesday morning. Labor Day was typically a three-day weekend, but Border’s Dairy had also closed on Friday to give their workers a gift since they’d had a record-setting year of profits. Of course, I could work through it, like I did most weekends, but the last week or so I’d been feeling pretty down, and I figured maybe I should get out for a change of scenery. A woman in the accounting department had invited me to go to some big lake with her and her friends. She seemed nice and was good-looking enough, but the last thing I needed was to get involved with a third woman.
Julia and I had kept in touch, and she’d been bugging me to take a trip back to Chicago for the long weekend. She’d even gone so far as to say she’d make it worth my while , which should have had me jumping at the opportunity since it had been forever since I’d gotten laid. Yet it did the complete opposite. The time away from Julia had made me realize we didn’t have a long-term future. I didn’t think about her all the time like I should have—unlike the other woman in my life whom I should not have been thinking about, yet consumed my daily thoughts.
Molly.
Six weeks away from her had made me realize what I felt was no joke. I’d always been a driven person—able to see where I wanted to be in six months, a year, and even five years. But since I’d left Chicago, I couldn’t figure out where to go for the fucking weekend. I could no longer imagine where I wanted to be in six months, because it was too painful to imagine that wherever it was, Molly wouldn’t be with me.
Rather than sit in my hotel room and wallow, I decided to take a walk. There was a bar a few blocks away. Maybe I’d go in and grab a beer. The Spotted Cow had looked like an old-man’s bar from the outside, but inside, the place was filled with women. In fact, as I moseyed up to an empty stool at the corner of the bar, I realized I was pretty much the only man here.
The bartender was probably in her early sixties. She had flaming red hair and the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. She placed a napkin in front of me.
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
I hadn’t said a word yet, so her assessment wasn’t based on my accent. I shook my head. “I’m not. But how did you know that?”
She chuckled and held out her hand. “Lucky guess. My name is Belinda. What can I get you, cowboy?”
I shook. “I’ll take a beer—Stella, if you have it. And I’m Declan.”
“Alright, Declan. Give me a minute.”
When she returned with my beer, she slid it over and leaned her elbows on the bar. “Were you looking for some company for the night?”
My brows drew together. Was she propositioning me ? Is that what this place was? Why it was filled with women? “Umm…no, not really. I’m working in the area. I needed to get out of my hotel room. Just figured I’d have a drink, I guess.”
Belinda nodded. “Okay then. Just didn’t want you to be disappointed if you were looking to meet someone.” She lifted her chin toward the door. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome here. But the bar across the street might be more of what you were expecting.”
I looked around, confused. Two women stood nearby, and one rubbed the other’s arm. I scanned around the room a bit more, and there were an awful lot of women standing really close together. Squinting, I noticed two making out in the corner. Oh shit .
Belinda watched me take it all in. I chuckled, shaking my head as I took a slug of my cold beer. “And here I thought you were pimping.”
“Excuse me?”
“You asked me if I was looking for some company.”
Belinda bent her head back in laughter. “Honey, you don’t have enough money in the world to take one of these women home tonight.”
I smiled. “That’s fine with me. I got enough woman problems.”
She shook her head. “Don’t we all, honey. Don’t we all.”
A lady sitting a few seats over held up her hand, so Belinda excused herself. She returned fifteen minutes later and swapped out my empty Stella for a full one. Leaning on the counter, she said, “Okay. So lay it on me.”
“What?”
“Your woman problems.”
I smiled. “Thank you, but it’s okay.”
“Listen, sweetheart, I’ve spent my life dealing with women—lived with a half dozen I loved, and owned this bar for three decades. And I also got twenty years on you.” She winked. “So trust me when I say you don’t have a problem I haven’t come across. You obviously aren’t looking to get lucky, or you would have left after you realized that isn’t happening here. So I’m thinking you’re having a few drinks and looking for some mental clarity. But alcohol doesn’t give you that.” She stood tall and patted her chest. “A bartender does.”