She couldn’t help but smile, too, then thought, no, you silly goose that’s not being careful; that’s not the new Carrie Ritter. And for an instant she wondered if it was too late to change her mind but, as the stranger pushed open the door and walked toward her, she thought she would explain it all to Hannah by telling her that the closer he got the more drop-dead gorgeous he became, even though she knew Hannah would simply add, “Haven’t they all?”
But it wasn’t just his looks that made Carrie think maybe he was the one. It was the gentle way he put out his strong-looking hand and said, “It’s not too late to change your mind.” She was surprised he knew what she’d been thinking and that made her relax a bit but also scared her because she wondered who would want to be around someone who knew what you’re thinking—even feeling—maybe even before you did? But she took his hand and said, “No, please,” and wondered what sort of a greeting that was.
Bart smiled at her and placed his hands on the back of the stool. “Good, but from all our e-mails I thought I knew almost all there was to know about you, but—”
“But what?” Carrie said. “Is something wrong?”
Bart laughed. “Just the opposite. From the way you described yourself, I kind of expected a…well…a…a big, strong Iowa farm girl. But you’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
Again Carrie felt her face flush. Something told her that this stranger meant what he said. She smiled. “But there are lots of things you don’t know about me either, so please don’t think I’ve told you everything.”
“Nor me,” Bart said, “but that’s part of the adventure; part of the mystery.”
Carrie thought an adventure sounded romantic and was titillated by the idea of a mystery; that they were exactly what her dull, predictable life needed when Bart asked if she’d like to try an Alaskan drink, a Love Me Tender.
Carrie said she’d try one. She was trying to be firm, be careful, but while Bart was at the bar she promised herself that if it didn’t work out this time, that this was the last time, for none had ever led to the man of her dreams, although there had been a couple of close calls.
She drew a deep breath and told herself to keep her head about her and not do anything stupid, to keep it all in order and go slow. She took another deep breath and wondered how this gorgeous stranger was making out with the odd-sounding drinks. As she turned to look he was walking toward her with an easy swagger, and she thought he was built just like her—big hands and feet, narrow hips and broad shoulders—but on him it looked right. Better than right. When Bart saw her looking at him he smiled and she thought it was a friendly smile, not a smile filled with lechery like so many other smiles she’d seen so many times in this bar, and she relaxed a bit.
And then she saw him. She felt a tightness in her chest and her breath came in warm, heavy bursts. Jake Hornbeck was following Bart. He was smiling the smile that she knew led to trouble. He wouldn’t try anything in public or would he? Wasn’t he worried about the cops?
Bart slid a glass in front of her and sat. Carrie forced a smile and coughed out, “Bart, do you know this guy?”
“What guy?”
She lowered her voice. “The guy behind you, with the bandage above his eye.”
Bart looked over his shoulder, but before he could answer, Jake said, “Well, if it isn’t the fickle Carrie Ritter and her internet ticket to Nowheresville, Alaska.”
“Go away,” Carrie said, “Please.” She looked at Bart for help, but he didn’t move, his big hands wrapped around his glass, his emotionless stare fixed on the table.
“Go away? Up until today you couldn’t get enough of me, or don’t you remember?” He placed a hand on Bart’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s because I can’t take you away from it all like this poor sucker.”
Carrie knew at that instant that she should have called the police and prayed that Bart would somehow help her. But she thought there was no reason for him to do anything, that she was nothing more than a stranger whom he’d met through the internet, and she mustered all the courage she could and looked up at Jake and forced herself to focus on his narrow-set, dark eyes. “Enough’s enough, Jake. It’s over.”
Jake shook his head, his eyes filled with the same wild, animal-like look they’d had in her bathroom that morning. “It’s not going to be that easy.”
Without looking up, or turning to face him, Bart said quietly, “Please, let the lady alone.”
“Please, let the lady alone?” Jake looked at Carrie. “Who is this guy? Mister Manners?”
Carrie had no idea how to answer. Or even if she should. She looked to the gorgeous man seated close to her for help, but all she saw was a stranger and realized how alone she was, and a chill ran through her.
Bart raised his eyes to her and smiled a comforting smile. He looked over his shoulder at Jake and then beckoned to the bouncer. “Okay. Let’s skip the formalities. Time’s up. Leave the lady alone.”
When Bart spoke, people at the nearby tables stopped talking and stared at Jake and him. Two women seated at the table nearest them picked up their drinks, pushed their stools back and moved away. Carrie held her glass so tightly to stop her hands from shaking that she thought she’d break it, but all she could think of at that moment was how nice ‘leave the lady alone’ sounded when Jake said, “Shove it up your ass.”
Carrie watched Jake’s Death Before Dishonor tattoo swell with each rhythmic flex of his biceps and thought of his super-human strength. Suddenly she didn’t want to be in this singles bar causing this handsome stranger to be hurt because she never could get things right. Her plan to change her life already was headed in the wrong direction and as usual Hannah had been right, she should have stayed home and gotten her emotional shit together for she could feel things were unraveling at a rapid pace and, once again, she was losing control.
“It’ll take a bigger man than you to do that,” he said. “But not tonight.”
With that, Jake wrapped his arms around Bart’s neck and jerked him from his stool, sending it crashing to the floor, the bar going quiet, except for a series of scraping sounds as people pushed their stools from their tables and hurried away.
“Jake, no!” Carrie yelled.
Jake glanced at her and pulled Bart’s head down to his hip. Bart’s face turned red and the vein in his temple thickened. “So this is the pussy you ditched—”
But Jake never got to finish. A man more than a half-a-foot taller than him with a large, shiny shaved head and a baseball bat grabbed him by the ear and pushed the bat under his nose. “Hit the road, pal,” the man said. “You want to fight, join the Marines.”
Jake let go of Bart and took a step back. He sized up the bouncer and his baseball bat and raised his hands above his shoulders. “You win this one, fat boy,” he said, and then looked at Carrie. “But we’re not through. No one gets away with shit like this with Jake Hornbeck.” And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he pushed through the crowded bar and out on to the street and was gone.
Bart rolled his head and stretched his neck. He smiled and lifted his glass toward the bouncer and thanked him for his help.
“Comes with the territory,” the bouncer said. He tapped Bart
