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She steps back. “I gotta pay my tab.” Spinning around, she tosses over her shoulder, “Meet you out front.”
Yeah. I’m still standing on the dance floor like a fucking dumbass. Because I’m pretty sure snacks isn’t code for sex.
I scrape a hand down my face with an inward laugh. Who knew the wrong Mac would end up being exactly what I didn’t know I needed tonight?
19
MAC
What am I doing? I have officially lost my fucking mind.
And then some.
“‘The best way to do that is with snacks’?” I mutter disgustedly under my breath as I stride toward the bar to pay my tab. “What in the fresh hell am I doing?!”
“You’re thinkin’ of gettin’ laid,” Timmy calls out as he passes by on his way to—you guessed it—the bathroom yet again.
He doesn’t stop but continues on his way without a backward glance, which I’m extremely grateful for.
I just got called out by the town’s functional drunk. That’s right. I’ve officially sunk to an all-new low.
Daniel’s frustration was palpable when he spoke of his sister and how he’s searching for answers. Sure, people can fake shit, but he wasn’t. I know that as sure as I know Timmy will make another dozen trips to the bathroom before he leaves tonight.
I’ve sat at this bar countless times and overheard men—both locals and the occasional out-of-towners—tell some tale about how they caught whatever-size fish, shot whatever-size deer while hunting, or fucked whatever kind of woman. Each and every time, I’ve been able to identify the lies from the truth.
It’s not that their tales were wholly unbelievable, because that hasn’t always been the case. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s as though I somehow have the ability to detect the untruths. Whether it’s instinctive or related to my ability, I don’t know for sure, but what I do know is, a lie always stands out to me.
It’s how I know with certainty that Daniel won’t hurt me.
I reach for the cash I stuffed in my back pocket, but before I can toss money on the bar, Benny suddenly appears across from me. He spears me with an accusatory look. “You leavin’ with him?”
His question catches me off guard. Is that a hint of concern in the old man’s voice? No, it can’t be. Where was this concern all the other times I left here to hook up with an out-of-towner?
“Yes, Dad”—my tone is heavy with sarcasm—“I am exiting at the same time as he is.”
Benny grunts, those damn gray bushy brows descending. A healthy dose of suspicion pollutes the glare he shoots past me, no doubt looking for Daniel. “That pretty boy better behave himself.”
I barely bite back a laugh. “That pretty boy will end up with some broken fingers if he doesn’t.” Tossing my cash on the bar, I offer a little wave. “Later, Benny.”
Without another word, I head for the door, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the others.
“Ooo-eeee! Our Mac’s gonna get ’er some tonight!”
Of course, Randy feels the need to chime in. “He’ll prolly only do it doggy-style so he don’t have to see her—ow! The fuck?!”
I step outside and suck in a deep breath of the night air. A heavy dose of humidity clings to it, but that’s the norm here. Stars sparkle like someone scattered glitter across the night sky.
I come to an abrupt halt the moment I spot him standing beside a vehicle. He surveys the parking lot much like he did the interior of the bar.
“You have a Chevelle?” Reverence in my tone has him briefly glancing at me. “A '77 Chevelle?”
His brows rise a fraction, evidently impressed. “You really know your cars.”
Eyes sweeping over the vehicle, his voice holds the kind of admiration that comes from someone who recognizes the craftsmanship of the countless parts that come together to make it. “She’s a beauty, huh?”
I venture closer toward the Chevelle and circle it slowly, surveying it with a critical eye. When my attention drops to the tires, I tip my head to the side and peer closer at the black rubber.
Reaching for my phone in my back pocket, I press the flashlight button before bending my knees to take a closer look.
