turned back to Kevin. “I just wish I could have a little umbrella.”
He didn’t care about that. “Tell me about being bad.”
“I haven’t been. Ever. So that’s what I’m doing on my drive to Hawaii.” She glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. “This is only my third time in a bar.”
“You’re kidding,” he said, more because he was hoping she wasn’t telling the truth than because he didn’t believe her.
“When I left home three days ago, I’d never even had anything alcoholic to drink. So that first night, when I stopped, I went into a bar.” She bit into another fry and wrinkled her nose. Humor crinkled the corners of her eyes.
“It was horrible,” she said when she’d swallowed. “I felt so out of place and when a man smiled at me, I ran out the door. Yesterday was better.”
He gave up. There was no point in avoiding what was obviously his fate. “Your second time in a bar?”
She nodded. “I had white wine, but I have to tell you I didn’t like it at all. But I did almost speak to someone.”
Great.
The bartender finished blending the margarita and set it in front of her. “Want to run a tab?” he asked.
Haley pressed her lips together for a couple of seconds. “Maybe,” she said at last.
“Yes,” Kevin said. “Run her a tab. You want your own order of fries?”
“Okay. Extra salt, please.”
The bartender muttered something under his breath, then wrote on his small pad.
“A tab,” Kevin said when they were alone, “means they keep a list of what you’ve ordered. You pay once at the end of the evening instead of paying each time.”
Haley’s blue-hazel eyes widened. “That’s so cool.”
He had a feeling the world was going to be one constant amazement after the other for her.
He studied her pale skin, her wide smile and trusting eyes. This was not a woman who should be let out on her own.
“You need to think about heading back to Ohio.”
“No way.” She took a long drink of her margarita. “I’ve spent my entire life doing what everyone else has told me to do. Now I’m only doing what I want. No matter what.”
Her expression turned fierce. “You can’t know what it’s like,” she continued. “I never get to voice my opinion. If I even try, I get ignored. No one cares what I think or what I want.”
“That’s why you’re running away?”
“Exactly.” She picked up a French fry, then put it back on the plate. “How did you know I was running away?”
“You’re not the kind of woman to come to a place like this on purpose.”
She glanced around at the seedy clientele, then shrugged. “I want new experiences.”
“Like little umbrellas in your drinks?”
“Exactly.”
She smiled. He had to admit she had a great smile. Her whole face lit up. She’d said she was twenty-five, but in some ways she acted more like an awkward teenager than a grown woman. No doubt being the daughter of a single father minister had something to do with it.
He thought about suggesting that next time she find her new experience at a more upscale bar, but then he reminded himself he wasn’t getting involved. He had enough problems of his own without adding her to the list.
“It’s not that I don’t like the piano,” she said.
“What?”
“The piano. I play. It was expected. I can also play the organ, but only a few hymns and not very well.”
“Okay.” He started eating his burger.
“The music is great. But I wanted to be a teacher.”
“Your father objected?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She sighed. “He would never come out and tell me no. That’s not his way. But there was subtle pressure. In a way that’s a whole lot harder to resist. I mean, a direct statement can be argued, but hints and nudges kind of sweep you along until you suddenly wake up and find yourself in a place you don’t want to be.”
She took another long drink of her margarita. The bartender appeared with a plate of fries. Haley smiled her thanks.
Kevin finished his burger and thought about making his escape.
“You want me to replace what I took?” she asked, motioning to his plate.
“No thanks.”
She shrugged, then munched on another fry. “So you’re a U.S. Marshal. What are you doing here?”
“I just delivered a prisoner to the federal penitentiary up the road.”
Her eyes widened. “There’s a prison here?”
“Didn’t you see the signs about not picking up hitchhikers?”
“Sure, but I thought it was some kind of joke. You know, a local gag on tourists.”
“This isn’t a real tourist haven. Most of the folks are passing through or here to visit relatives.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned close and lowered her voice. “People here know men in prison?”
He groaned. “Haley, have you ever been outside of your hometown before?”
“Of course. I spent four years at the Southern Baptist College for Young Women.”
Just perfect. “And after your college experience?”
“I went back home, where I got my master’s in music and finished up the courses I needed for my teaching credentials. I graduated with honors.”
She reached for her glass. Her hand missed the stem by about three inches. She stretched out her fingers, then curled them into her palm.
“My skin feels funny,” she said. “My cheeks tingle.”
Kevin swore silently. He glanced at the nearly finished second drink, then turned his attention to the bartender drying glasses with a dirty towel.
“Doubles?” he asked.
The old man grinned. “Thought you might want to get lucky.”
Perfect. Just perfect. In less than forty minutes the nondrinking preacher’s daughter had just consumed the equivalent of four shots of tequila. The full effect of the alcohol
