Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
And my first love.
My first everything.
“Yup.” I gulp back my wine as my emotions swirl. I didn’t expect him here, but I should have. It’s not a secret that the Landry crew occasionally comes in after a long week of work, and I imagine the first week with Logan back was the longest one they’ve had in decades. Plus, his cousin Jameson is practically a staple, peddling his brewery like a shameless salesman with a trench coat full of stolen goods tucked inside. There he is now, chatting up a group of women.
“Well, damn … Fine, I’ll say it. Prison years have treated him well.” Breanne’s eyes widen with meaning. “I mean, if it were me he was ogling like that—”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Mike scolds his wife from across the table.
“Then stop listening!” she retorts but follows it up with a blown kiss and a wink.
I’m distracted from their playful bickering by the slender blond form darting past me into the back. Was that Holly? I check my watch. It’s close to curfew for under-agers in here, though it’s not uncommon for them to come early and cross their fingers that the servers won’t politely kick them out.
I scan the Bale House for questionable patrons and quickly spot a table of them—three girls done up to disguise their youth. There’s little chance Holly didn’t notice Logan, didn’t watch him go down the hall.
“Need I remind you that the guy went to prison for manslaughter? Two cops?” Mike’s eyebrows arch.
There’s no need reminding me of that. I met Officers Whitley and Combs. I knew all the cops at my father’s station.
“And then he nearly killed an inmate?” Mike goes on.
“That was self-defense,” I offer half-heartedly, too focused on thoughts about Holly. What is that silly girl up to?
And how will Logan react to her games?
The longer those two are back there together, the more worried I get.
“Excuse me.” Without waiting, I slide out and head for the washrooms.
The moment I round the corner and see Holly herding Logan until his back is pressed against the wall, watch her reach up to touch him, I knew I was right to be concerned.
“What the hell is going on here!” I holler, storming forward.
Holly jumps back. “Um … hi, Mrs. McAllister.” The brazen version has evaporated, replaced by this polite one. “I was just asking Logan if his window had been repaired—”
“Bullshit.” I stop a few feet away to stare her down.
She averts her gaze, her fingers toying with one of her chunky gold tube-hoop earrings.
“Time for you and your friends to leave. I suggest you get going before I arrange a ride home for you in a cruiser.” I emphasize my point with a sharp finger toward the exit just as Mike sticks his head around the corner.
“All good here?” I can barely hear him over the muffled music.
Loud enough for him to understand, I announce, “Holly, this is Sergeant Lynch. He’ll help you and your friends pay up so you can get home.”
She scurries toward and past him without another word.
Mike pauses to regard Logan a beat before nodding at me and trailing her out.
Logan sinks back against the wall, his shoulders sagging. “Thank you.”
I remember when he and I got together, I could never be near him without touching him—a hand on his biceps, a nudge against his knee. Even now, my instinct is to reach out for his forearm, but I resist. “You okay?”
“Twenty years with murderers and rapists and I’m terrified of a teenage girl. Who knew?” He chuckles to play it off, but his entire body radiates tension, the muscles in his arms corded. Or maybe that’s how he always is these days.
“It’s not the girl you’re afraid of. It’s being in any situation that might put you back inside.”
“I’m never going back. Never.” His jaw is taut as he shakes his head resolutely. “I don’t know why she has a thing for me.”
It’s the same reason he’s likely drawn the curiosity of most females in this place. Criminal record or not, Logan is handsome beyond compare and moves with a stealth that is both dangerous and graceful. I’m sure his mugshot would go viral if it were posted online, garnering thousands of thirsty comments.
I hesitate. “Holly’s mother, Jenny, was Eric’s cousin.”
Logan’s forehead furrows with realization. “Are you saying Holly’s a Whitley?”
“I mean, she’s a Monroe, but yeah, she’s one of them.” They walk around with their noses aimed a little higher in the air and assume the position of local royalty at all the events. I’ve heard Brad’s wife Elizabeth actually use those words. I imagine Holly will run for Harvest Queen next year—and win.
“Fuck.” Logan pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You know how it is. Can’t throw a stone without hitting one of them around here.” They cling to the area and multiply like hamsters. And when push comes to shove, all of them will launch silver mining lore at you to get their way. At least, the older generation does.