Page 6 of On One Condition

Through the dim haze of the bar, I can make out a dark head of hair, broad shoulders, and expensive clothes. He has an unapologetic presence that says he doesn’t give a fuck who’s staring at him because he likes the attention.

And the locals in here are staring. Sizing him up. Wondering what the hell he’s doing in a bar in Junction City when fancier ones—by small-town standards—are down the highway in Cedar Falls.

I study him from my spot behind the bar, expecting him to turn and walk out, and secretly wanting him to. There’s something about him—an air of authority, a confidence, a familiarity I can’t place—that completely owns my attention.

I’ve had enough trouble in my life with men like him.

He’s just a customer, Ash. You’re feeding his ego. An ego that most likely revels in the boost you’re giving it. So, stop staring.

For once, I heed my own warning—it’s not often it happens—and turn my back on him to dry glasses fresh out of the dishwasher.

But I know the minute he sits down at the bar. I can feel the weight of his stare and smell the faint yet expensive scent of his cologne.

And yes, I know it’s expensive. After filling in for my best friend, Nita, from time to time, I can tell the difference between a drugstore cologne and a high-end one. Junction City is on the outskirts of Cedar Falls, the gateway to the wealthy person’s recreational areas. Ski slopes on one side of town, rivers and lakes on the other, and a whole host of scenic “look at me” places for pictures to be taken and posted on social media in between. They stop into Hank’s Bar for a quick drink and to experience that small-town atmosphere while bitching about its lack of Cristal or some other fancy shit.

So yes, the man at my back might be handsome and is more than likely charming as hell, but I’ve been there, done that. The flirting, the cell number left on a napkin, the promise of a good time while he’s in town.

Sometimes I take up the offer because variety is few and far between when you’ve lived in one place your whole life. Other times I just smile and endure the flirting, knowing the whirlwind weekend of great (sometimes) sex and pretending I’m one of them isn’t always worth the emptiness that comes when they leave.

Because despite the promises, they never call.

Ever.

“I think the town you’re looking for is about twenty miles that way,” I say, motioning in the direction of Cedar Falls without turning to face him.

“And how do you know what I’m looking for?” There’s amusement in the tenor of his voice. There’s also something else that has me pausing.

“Well, no one stops in Junction City unless you’re a local or utterly desperate,” I say as I dry another glass.

“Maybe I’m not like everybody else then.”

“That remains to be seen,” I murmur and wipe my hands on a towel.

“So, apparently, does my ability to get a drink in this place.”

My laughter is sharp as I turn to face the smart-ass, impressed with his quick wit. But when I finally see him, my next words die on my lips.

I stand behind the bar, eyes blinking, head reeling, and look at the man who was once the boy who stole my heart.

And then broke it into a million pieces.

My moonlight boy who said he’d love me forever.

But the person in front of me isn’t a teenage boy anymore. No. He’s undeniably all man, who has only gotten more attractive with age. His dark hair has a wave to it that’s been styled with product. His eyes are astute and aloof. And the smile he offers damn near knocks me off my feet before freezing me in place as a flash of recognition shoots through his amber eyes.

Ledger Sharpe.

A name I’ve never forgotten . . . even if I wish I could have.

“Asher?” His voice sounds as shocked as I feel before his eyes quickly dart to his right and left—as if he’s expecting someone else to be there—before coming back to mine. “What . . . what in the hell are you doing here?”

“Ledger.” His name is a breathless two syllables as I try to gain my bearings. “I—what—I mean . . .” Why?

Why are you here?

Why does seeing you bring back a million emotions—elation, anger, surprise, shame, longing—despite the passage of time?

Why are you even more handsome now?