AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In fact, yes, they do,” Chari says, her eyes sparkling. “What do they call it in New York?”
“They call it ‘dipping the stinger in the honey.’”
Chari’s laugh is worth the look Devon gives me. Some habits die hard, and apparently acting like a seventh grader is something I still do outside of Manhattan. Despite the looks and whispers around us, I feel comfortable here. Relaxed.
It’s good to be home.
Or, more precisely, to be here in this bar, talking to Devon and Chari Atwood.
4
Chari
“Tell me everything.”
Lisa leans forward and looks at the other side of The Wheelhouse as if it’s the scene of a crime. We’re in what I call the daylight half. The ground floor is split into two—part bar, part bakery and deli. And it’s always busy, especially in the spring and summer, once the old waterwheel next to us begins to turn again. On one end of Bridgewater lies a lake. The other, a river that cuts through the edge of the downtown. And while the huge wheel encased in wood just outside the window where we sit isn’t actually used to produce power anymore, the owner of the building stills turns it on after the last thaw. Ambiance and all.
I was practically raised here. The husband and wife who own the building rent my mother the space upstairs for her souvenir shop. Usually, I’m as relaxed at this table overlooking the river as I am at home. But not today. Not after last night.
Bridgewater isn’t a huge town. One main street. A handful of restaurants and bars, some closer to town and others along the nearby lake. But there’s only one bakery. It’s not far-fetched to think—to hope—Enzo might come by this morning, which is why I can’t take my eyes from the door.
“I had no idea he was coming home,” I tell my best friend since kindergarten.
Tall, blonde, and incredibly kind, Lisa is the one person in this town everyone, literally everyone, likes. Including me. And my brother, despite the fact that their brief hookup in high school didn’t go swimmingly well.
I did warn her.
“Who would have guessed? I mean, how long has it been?”
“Years since I’ve seen him.”
I reach for the ketchup, but Lisa pulls it away before I can grab it.
“Just try it without any. All I’m asking is for you to do it once. For me.”
I grab the bottle back.
“Not even for you.”
Squeezing a pool of red gold onto my plate, I prepare to dip my scrambled eggs, much to Lisa’s chagrin. You’d think she would give up on trying to refine my food tastes. Eggs without ketchup? No, thank you. I might as well eat her broccoli and mushroom egg white omelette. Yuck.
“So? What happened?” she presses, looking away from my plate.
What happened, indeed? Just thinking of it gives me goose pimples from head to toe.
“You know, we talked a bit. He was swarmed by an adoring crowd. And then I left.”
Lisa blinks rapidly, daring me to stop there.
“Okay. Long version. I nearly died when he said my name. He sat two stools away from me and I could still smell him.”
“You couldsmellhim. Seriously?”
“He hugged me. And I may have breathed in too deeply. His scent never really left me.”
A rich, sensual musk that I can smell even now if I close my eyes. I can see his face too. Dark hair, dark perfectly arched brows, deep brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul . . .
“You have a really weird look on your face,” she muses.
