I felt a nervous tickle at the back of my neck. Maybe he lived in Knockemout. Maybe I was overthinking it, and he was just a regular person with a broken laptop who liked a cold beer on a Friday night.
And maybe he wasn’t.
“Here you go, guys,” I said, doling out drinks to a four-top that had turned into a six-top.
“Thanks, Naomi. And thank you for hooking my aunt up with that home health organization,” said Neecey, the gossipy waitress from Dino’s.
“My pleasure. Hey, does anyone know that guy along the back wall?” I asked.
Four heads swiveled in unison. Knockemout wasn’t much for subtlely.
“Can’t say he looks familiar,” Neecey said. “That red hair sure stands out. I feel like I’d remember him if I met him.”
“Is he giving you trouble, Nay?” Wraith demanded, looking deadly serious.
I forced a laugh. “No. I just recognized him from the library. I didn’t know if he was a local.”
I suddenly wished Knox was here.
Two seconds later, I was really glad he wasn’t. Because this time when the front door opened, I prayed for the floor to open up and swallow me.
“Now who the hell is that dandy?” Wraith wondered out loud.
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no,” I whispered.
Warner Dennison the Third was scanning the bar, an expression of derision on his handsome face.
I thought about turning around and hightailing it for the kitchen. But it was too late. He locked eyes with me, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“Naomi,” he called just as the band cut off their song.
Heads turned to look at me and then back at Warner.
I stayed rooted to the spot, but he was on the move, weaving his way through tables to get to me.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Me? What the hell are you doing in a place like this? And what are you wearing?” he said, reaching for me. His hands gripped my biceps like he was going to pull me in for an embrace, but I resisted.
“I work here,” I said, planting a hand firmly on his chest.
A motorcycle revved its engine outside, and he flinched. “Not anymore,” Warner said. “This is ridiculous. You made your point. You’re coming home.”
“Home?” I managed a dry laugh. “Warner, I sold my house. I live here now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re coming home with me.”
Not wanting to cause a scene, I gave up trying to extricate myself from his grasp. “What are you talking about? We’re not together anymore.”
“You ran out on our wedding then ignored my calls and emails for weeks. You wanted to make a point and you made it.”
“What point exactly do you think I was making?”
His nostrils flared, and I noticed the clench of his jaw. He was getting upset, and it turned my stomach.
“You wanted me to see what life would be like without you. I get it.”
We had the rapt attention of the bar. “Warner, let’s talk somewhere else,” I suggested. I pulled him past the bar and into the hallway by the restrooms.
“I miss you, Naomi. I miss our dinners together. I miss coming home and finding out you did all my laundry for me. I miss taking you out and showing you off.”
I shook my head, hoping to rattle some sense into my brain. I couldn’t believe he was here.
“Look,” he said, “I apologize for what happened. I was stressed. I had too much to drink. It won’t happen again.”
“How did you find me?” I asked, finally extricating myself from his grasp.
“My mom is Facebook friends with yours. She saw some of the pictures your mom has been posting.”
For once I regretted not telling my mom exactly why I’d run out on my wedding. If she’d known why I left Warner, she sure as hell wouldn’t have pointed the way here.
Warner took my wrists in his hands.
“Everything all right here,” Max asked, appearing at the mouth of the hall.
“Everything’s fine,” I lied.
“Mind your own damn business,” Warner muttered without taking his eyes off me.
“Warner!” I remembered all the little insults he’d say under his breath directed at me and countless others.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can talk,” he said, squeezing my wrists tighter.
“No. You need to listen to me. I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m certainly not getting back together with you. It’s over. We’re over. There’s nothing more to talk about. Now go home, Warner.”