Obsession Falls(20)

The Timberbeast Tavern looked exactly how I’d pictured it when Sandra had told me where to meet her. She’d invited me out for a drink after work and this place was everything I’d expected. Vintage logging photos, old business signs, and rusty timber equipment adorned the walls, and the guy behind the bar had a thick beard, buffalo plaid shirt, and big hairy arms, making him look more like a lumberjack than a bartender.

In fact, he looked a lot like the cartoon lumberjack on the Timberbeast sign.

I’d gone home after work to take care of Max, grab some dinner, and change clothes. I’d opted for a short-sleeved shirt and jeans with a pair of sandals. It was getting warmer during the day but still cooling down at night—typical mountain weather in June. I hoped my feet wouldn’t get too cold, but I’d painted my toenails the cutest shade of pink and I wanted the chance to show them off.

Or at least enjoy them myself, since I doubted anyone in a dimly lit small-town tavern was going to notice my toes.

Sandra waved to me from her table. She’d also changed since work, into a t-shirt and casual pants. Her silvery-gray pixie cut was adorable as always.

“I’m glad you made it,” she said as I took a seat. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hang out with an old lady, so thanks for indulging me.”

“You’re hardly an old lady.”

“I’m getting awfully close to sixty. That number sounds significant.”

“It’s a milestone but that doesn’t mean you’re an old lady. You’ve just leveled up.”

“See, this is why I like you. You know how to put a positive spin on things.” She turned toward the bar and raised her voice. “Hey, Rocco. What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here? Flash her boobs?”

I covered my mouth and laughed behind my hand. Rocco, the lumberjack bartender, crossed his arms and raised his bushy eyebrows as if to say, go ahead, I’m waiting.

Sandra laughed. “Leave it to Rocco to call my bluff. I’ll go get us drinks. What do you want?”

My first thought was a lemon drop, but I was trying to cut down on sugar. And this didn’t seem like a lemon drop sort of place. “What are you having?”

“Vodka soda. I used to be a margarita girl, but I can’t do tequila anymore. And Rocco makes terrible margaritas.”

“I heard that,” Rocco grumbled.

Sandra grinned, pretending to ignore him.

“I’ll have the same. But let me get them. I want to celebrate not being unemployed and having the funds to treat a friend to a drink.”

“I won’t argue with that. Thanks.”

I went to the bar. Rocco was busy with a customer, but another bartender came out from the back. He was younger than Rocco, with shaggy dark hair and no beard. He looked vaguely familiar, but a lot of people around here did. Plus I wasn’t great with faces—or names—unless I knew someone well.

Or if it was Josiah Haven, apparently.

The bartender eyed me with a vaguely annoyed expression. “What can I get you?”

“Two vodka sodas. One with lemon, if you have it.”

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

Okay, so not the chattiest guy.

I waited while he made our drinks. When he finished, he slid them across the bar, along with the check.

“Do you want to start a tab?” he asked.

“Sure, that would be great. Thanks.”

He nodded, still looking slightly irritated. Maybe he didn’t like his job. I picked up the drinks and took them to our table.

“So how are things going?” Sandra asked. “Are you getting settled in?”

“Yeah, I think so. My house is great. Super cozy. I still feel like I’m flying blind at work but Lou doesn’t seem to dislike me too intensely, so I have that going for me.”

“He likes you fine.”

“I hope so. The last thing I need is to get laid off again.”

“Lou is pretty loyal. He won’t get rid of you unless there’s a good reason. Or if the paper finally shuts down.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but do you think that’s possible?”

She shrugged. “I imagine Lou will keep it open as long as he can. That paper is all he knows. His wife has been trying to get him to retire for years but he’ll probably croak in his office when he’s ninety. But small-town newspapers are dinosaurs. The meteor hit, the sunlight’s been blocked, and it’s only a matter of time before the last of them die off.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“It is. But time marches on.”

I wondered if there was anything I could do. It wasn’t like I could actually revive a dying newspaper. But there had to be ways to improve it—to make it more interesting to the readership.

The door opened and the man who appeared instantly pulled my thoughts from all things journalism.

Josiah Haven.

His surly expression seemed to suck all the air from the room. It was like the barstools had made him angry and he’d come to collect his vengeance. That should have scared me. I usually shied away from people who seemed mad all the time. But there was something about Josiah’s brow furrow and perpetual scowl that glued my eyeballs to him.

And it wasn’t just his face, which probably would have been quite handsome if he actually smiled. His shoulders were so broad, his chest so wide, his arms so thick. His thighs were like tree trunks in those jeans. His physical presence was so intimidating, I couldn’t stop staring.