closed. And yet before she could help herself, her truck pulled into the parking lot of the Wet Hen, the local bar.
“Let’s face it,” she lamented to her dashboard. “I need a drink.”
Just one. Just enough to take the edge off the nerves Wade had agitated. And if it helped suppress the attraction that was buzzing through her veins, all the better.
Tori slid from the cab of her truck, slammed the heavy door behind her and slipped through the door of the Wet Hen. The sign outside claimed the bar had been in business since 1897. Truthfully, it looked as if it had. A renovation wouldn’t hurt, but she supposed that was part of its charm. The bar was dark, with old, worn wood on the walls, the floors and the tables. The photos on the walls of various local heroes and the sports memorabilia from the high school seemed to be there more to camouflage cracks in the plaster than anything else. The amber lights did little to illuminate the place, but she supposed a bright light would not only ruin the atmosphere but force the local fire department to condemn it.
The place was pretty quiet for six on a Friday. She imagined business would pick up later unless people were tied up in last-minute holiday activities. She made her way to the empty bar and pulled up a stool. It was from her perch that she heard the laughter of a group of men in the back corner. When she turned, Tori quickly amended her plans. She needed two drinks. Especially with that cocky bastard watching her from the back of the bar.
What was Wade doing here? It was a small town, but wasn’t there somewhere else he should be? At home with his all-important family, perhaps? But no, he was throwing back a couple with an odd assortment of old and young men from around town. She recognized her lawyer, Randy Miller, and the old bald sheriff from one of the local television advertisements about the dangers of holiday drinking and driving. There were a couple others there she didn’t recognize.
And at the moment, every one of them was looking at her.
Had Wade been talking to them about her? The arrogant curl of his smile and the laughter in the eyes of the other men left no doubt. The irritation pressed up Tori’s spine until she was sitting bolt upright in her seat.
She wanted to leave. Not just the bar, but the town. Maybe even the state. In an hour she could have the trailer hooked up and ready to go. Part of the beauty of being nomadic was that you could leave whenever things got uncomfortable. That’s what her parents had always done. Hung around somewhere until it got boring or awkward and then moved on to someplace else. Tori had always had trouble imagining living in one community her entire life. There was no place to go when things blew up in your face.
But there were also advantages to being settled: longtime friends and neighbors. People you could count on. Stability. Roots. A place to call home and raise a family. After toying with the idea of having that kind of life with Ryan and then having it all collapse around her, Tori had decided she was tired of running. She might not have the life and family she’d dreamed about with Ryan, but she could have it with someone else if she sat still long enough to have a meaningful relationship.
Cornwall spoke to her. This was where her family had come from and this was where she wanted to stay. But if she was going to build her dream home here, she’d better learn how to tough it out. There was no towing off a house. Being the new girl in a small town was hard enough. Lacking in coping skills wasn’t going to help the situation.
If Wade thought he could bully her into selling by turning the town against her, he was in for a surprise. She wasn’t going to play along with his charade. If he could play dirty, so could she.
“What can I get you?” The bartender had finally made his way over to her end of the bar. He looked like the kind of guy you’d find at a 115-year-old bar named the Wet Hen. Thin, leathery and gray-haired with an ancient, blurry anchor tattooed on his forearm. The tag pinned to his apron said his name was Skippy. She’d never seen anyone less like a Skippy in her life.
“Gin and tonic with lime.” Strong and to the point without stooping to shots. She was tempted to just chug a few big gulps of tequila so she’d no longer care about Wade and his cronies. But she couldn’t lose control of her inhibitions, either. Lord knew what kind of trouble she’d get into.
Skippy placed a bowl of peanuts and a napkin on the counter for the drink he quickly poured. He looked as though he had a solid fifty years of experience mixing drinks. When the lowball glass plopped down in front of her, she took a large, quick sip. Damned if that wasn’t the best gin and tonic she’d ever had.
Go Skippy.
The alcohol surged straight into her veins. She’d been too agitated to eat anything since Wade left, and her empty stomach gladly soaked up the wicked brew. Three sips into her drink, her worries from earlier had dulled into distant concerns that could be drowned out, along with the loud bursts of male laughter coming from the corner. Thank goodness.
It wasn’t until she’d finished her drink and half a bowl of peanuts that she bothered to look in their direction again. Wade was still watching her, although this time the amusement on his face was gone. As the other men around the table chatted, he seemed to have narrowed his focus to her. The expression on his face was quite serious. And openly appreciative of whatever he was seeing.
When their gazes met, Tori felt a jolt of electricity that ran down her spine and prickled across her skin like delicate flames licking at her. It was almost as though his look caressed her physically and drew her into him. It was the same feeling she’d had when he touched her today, handing her the honey jar. Sudden. Unexpected. Powerful.
And totally and completely unwanted.
The clunk of a glass on the bar in front of her startled Tori out of Wade’s tractor beam. When she turned, she saw a fresh glass, courtesy of Skippy.
“This one’s on the oldest Eden boy.”
It took Tori a minute to figure out that probably meant Wade. “You mean the dark-headed one in the green shirt with the smug expression on his face?”
Skippy leaned onto the bar and turned toward the men in the back. “Yep.”
“I thought his last name was Mitchell.”
“It is.”
“Then why’d you call him an Eden boy?”
Skippy shrugged. “’Cause that’s what he is.”
Tori frowned. Wade’s family tree seemed to be a touch more complicated than she’d anticipated. “Tell him I don’t want it.”
Skippy snorted and shook his head. “He’s sitting with the mayor, the sheriff, the best lawyer in town and the city councilman who granted my liquor license. Sorry, kiddo, but I’m not getting involved. You’ll have to tell him that yourself.”
“Fine,” Tori said. The drink was making her feel brave anyway. Scooping up the full glass, she slid off the stool a little too fluidly and made her way across the bar to the table of men in the back.
All five of them halted their conversation and turned to look at her when she approached.
“You’re welcome, Miss Sullivan,” Wade said with a smile that made her stomach flutter and pissed her off at the same time. He was too cocky for his own good.
“Actually, I wasn’t coming to thank you. I’m returning it.”
“Is something
