margarita,” she said.
“Frozen or on the rocks?”
The only liquor question she knew the answer to was James Bond’s, “Shaken, not stirred.” Okay, rocks were ice. On the rocks would mean over ice, which wasn’t how she pictured margaritas.
“Frozen,” she said. “Oh. Do you have any of those little umbrellas to put in the glass?”
The bartender stared at her. “No.”
“Too bad.” She’d always wanted a drink with a little umbrella.
She watched as the man poured various liquids into a blender. He added a scoop of ice, then set the whole thing to whirling and crunching. When he finally put a glass in front of her, the light green concoction looked more like a slushy drink than anything else.
“Thanks.”
She took a sip from the tiny straw the bartender had dropped into her glass.
The first thing she noticed was the cold. The second was the flavor. Not sweet, but not bitter, either. Kind of lime, kind of something else.
“It’s good,” she said in surprise. It was sure better than that wine she’d had the previous night. She turned her attention back to Kevin.
“So why are you here?”
He turned slowly until his dark gaze rested on her face. He was really very handsome. She found herself wishing she hadn’t been quite so quick to cut off all her hair. Allan had always said it was her best feature.
Allan. She took a long drink of her margarita. She did not want to think about him. Not now. Not ever.
“Are you asking my spiritual purpose in the universe?” Kevin asked.
“Only if you want to tell me. I was thinking more of, do you live around here? What are you doing in the bar? That sort of thing.”
He finished his beer and pushed the glass across the bar. “Another,” he called before turning his attention back to her. “What are you doing here? In this bar. Today.”
“Well…” She took another long sip. “I’m driving to Hawaii.”
Kevin wished he’d changed the order of his wants back when life had still been sane. If he’d wanted a bed, a beer and a burger, he would now be in some hotel, ordering room service and watching the game in peace. Instead, he was having a conversation with a woman who had left the functioning part of her brain back in her car.
“Hawaii?”
Haley beamed at him. “Okay, so I know you can’t really drive to Hawaii, but I’m going to get as close as possible.”
“That would be California.”
“Right. I’ll figure out the rest of it when I get there.”
“Where are you driving from?”
“Western Ohio. I’m—”
But whatever she’d been about to confess was cut off by the arrival of his dinner. Haley stared at the large plate containing a burger on a bun—the top of the bun covered with lettuce, tomatoes and onion—along with a mound of fries that threatened to fall onto the counter.
“You can get food in a bar?” she asked, incredulous. “For real?”
He remembered walking to school years ago and seeing a starving dog. The dirty brown-and-white fur ball had been hiding in an alley. Kevin had taken one look at its shivering, skinny self, then he’d handed over his sandwich. He’d gone without lunch for two days before finally taking the dog home.
“You’re broke,” he said flatly, wondering when his luck had gotten so bad. He pushed the plate toward her. “Eat up.”
She took another drink of her margarita. “Broke?” She swallowed. “No. I have money.”
She put the glass on the bar, then pulled a small purse that had been dangling off one shoulder onto her lap and opened it. Inside was a wad of bills.
“I cleaned out my savings account,” she said, then lowered her voice. “I have the rest of it in traveler’s checks. It’s really much safer that way.” The purse closed with a snap.
She took another drink, then gasped and slapped her hands over her face.
“Ouch. Oh, yuck. It hurts. It hurts.” She shimmied on the bar stool, alternately cupping her nose and mouth and waving her hand back and forth.
Kevin pulled his plate in front of him, then nodded at the bartender. “Could we have a glass of water?”
The bartender filled a glass and passed it over to Haley. She gulped some down. After a couple of swallows, she sighed.
“Much better.” She put the glass down. “I had one of those flash ice headaches.”
“We all knew that.”
She half stood, stretched over the bar and snagged a small plate. “Want to share your fries?”
“Why not?”
She scooped several onto her plate and crunched the first one.
He was in hell, he decided, watching her. Somewhere in his day, he’d died and this was God’s way of punishing him for all the screwing up he’d done in his life.
“So I’m from Ohio,” she said with a smile. “Western Ohio. A little town you’ve never heard of. Have you been to Ohio?”
“Columbus.”
“It’s nice, huh?”
“A wonderful place.”
She nodded, not coming close to catching the sarcasm in his voice.
Why him? That’s what he wanted to know. There were probably twenty other guys in the bar. Why had he been the one to come to her rescue? Why hadn’t someone else stepped in?
“Like I said, my dad’s a minister.” She ate another French fry, then drank more of her margarita. “My mom died when I was born, so I don’t remember her. The thing is, when you’re the preacher’s kid, everybody feels responsible for keeping you on the straight and narrow. I didn’t have one mother—I had fifty. I couldn’t even think something bad before it was being reported to my dad.”
“Uh-huh.”
Kevin turned back to the game and tried not to listen.
“So that’s why I don’t know the bar thing.”
“What bar thing?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“That this isn’t a bar people bring their dates to. I’m practicing being bad.”
That got his attention. He swung back to face her. “Bad?”
“You
