Whiskey Flight - Violet Howe Page 0,3

with me might put Seth in danger, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

I pulled out my phone to check my emails for a distraction, and as I scrolled through my inbox, Shannon set another whiskey on the bar and smiled.

“Compliments of the snazzy dresser in the corner.”

So, it had been a come-on. Surely, a hitman wouldn’t be so blatantly obvious as to send me a drink and call attention to himself. Relief flooded through me, followed by the need to squelch any further attention from my new admirer.

“Oh, tell him I’m not interested, please.”

“He already paid for it,” Shannon said. “You might as well drink it.”

She turned her attention to another customer, and I shook my head in frustration.

As happy as I was to discover he wasn’t out to kill me, I had no desire to strike up a conversation with him either.

Figuring that a gentle but firm rebuff right off the bat would be the best way to handle the situation, I turned to face his direction, prepared to communicate my disinterest with my eyes and a shake of my head. To my surprise, his booth was empty. A wad of cash lay on the table next to his beer, which still appeared full.

Why would he buy me a drink and then leave? It didn’t make sense in either theory of who or what he was.

I hastily scanned the crowd again, unconvinced that he had gone.

“Hey, Shannon? Did that guy say anything when he bought my drink?”

“Nah, not really. Just that he wanted to buy another round for the lady in the red shirt.” She looked over toward his booth and frowned. “Where’d he go?”

“Beats me,” I said with a shrug. “You’re sure you’ve never seen him in here before?”

“Positive. Like I said, I’d remember him. You know how this place is. We’re the local hangout. We get the same people in and out, hardly ever any out-of-towners. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Or maybe he had to take a call and stepped outside. If I see him come back in, I’ll give you a heads-up.”

“All right. Thanks.”

I turned to place my back against the bar so I could watch the bathroom door and the entry door. I didn’t want any surprises.

A loud burst of laughter erupted from one of the dart groups, and my eyes were drawn to Seth again. He was laughing with them, his perfect white teeth exposed as he tilted his head to one side to listen to what the guy next to him was saying.

A pang of longing and remembrance hit me, and I tossed back my glass and drained it, trying to find a buffer against the pain.

This would have been my life. This would have been my Friday night. If I had stayed in Cedar Creek and married Seth, I’d be a part of that laughing group. We’d be sharing inside jokes with our friends. He’d have his arm around me, and it would be my voice he’d tilted his head to hear.

Instead, I’d run off to the city in pursuit of excitement and a bigger life than Cedar Creek could offer.

I’d gotten the bigger life, and I’d had my share of excitement since I’d left, but things hadn’t turned out exactly the way I’d planned.

Now, here I was, back in my hometown, drinking alone at the bar.

My fast-paced, high-paying career in television news production was over. Instead, I’d thrown myself into opening a community theater to bring the arts to Cedar Creek, but I couldn’t even accomplish that. My endeavor had been beset with more roadblocks and obstacles than I ever could have imagined, and I wasn’t certain I’d be able to get the theater going at all.

Instead of my posh, renovated house in a trendy Chicago neighborhood with an upscale restaurant or hot-spot bar on every corner, I was living in my late grandmother’s two-bedroom clapboard house and walking three blocks to reach a bar that didn’t even have a sign out front and only served wings, burgers, fries, and free stale peanuts.

As Seth laughed and celebrated the start of the weekend with his friends, I sat alone—paranoid, fearful, and filled with regrets.

This was not how I had envisioned my life.

Suddenly, I was no longer content to sit on that bar stool and mourn the loss of my dreams, my aspirations, and my ill-fated marriage. I wanted to laugh, too. I wanted to feel good. I wanted life to be normal in some sense, even