Page 45 of The Promise Of You

I scratch and pet his tender skin.

So Justin is a dog person. On top of being an incredible, generous bartender. And a mean asshole. At least to me. I chase the thoughts away and retreat inside the house, or Moose will stay here all night.

I figure he’ll walk himself back home when he gets bored of being alone.

But he doesn’t, and it’s getting dark. Cars might not see him. I try shooing him away, but he just smiles at me—I swear he does—his long tail wagging loudly against the porch floor.

“Go. Go see your daddy.”

More smiling. More tail wagging.

“Shoo!”

At that, he rolls onto his back, a gigantic beast acting like a puppy.

Shoot.

I open the passenger door of my car, he hops in, and I drive back toward the village. It’s a short drive to Lazy’s, but my nerves are shot. I’ll just open the car door real quick, make sure he gets inside the building one way or another, and drive away.

I do not want to see Justin. Not now, and if can help it, not ever.

fifteen

Justin

Knowing she’s alone tonight when the whole village is invited to my community dinner is making me feel all kinds of shitty. It’s one of those nights when I should feel good about myself, but I can’t.

I’ve been doing these for as long as I’ve owned Lazy’s. My chef, Shane, prepares a main dish. People can bring food and wine, but if they don’t or can’t, it’s all the same.

The register stays closed. No one pays for anything. All the food goes on the bar, buffet style. People help themselves and sit where they want and catch up with friends they haven’t seen in a while or make new ones. There’s an anonymous donation system that goes straight to the people who really need it.

So usually, on Community Dinner nights, I feel pretty damn good about myself.

But tonight I feel shitty. There’s one person no one dared to invite, because of me. The only person I really would care to see tonight.

And where is my damn dog when I need him? I peek out the back parking lot, but it’s empty. I linger alone in the kitchen, nursing my shittiness, drawing on a bottle of soda.

It’s one of those nights, I guess. I should get back to the pub, or I’m going to start thinking about why I feel like this.

About how I break everything I touch.

I never should have slept with Clover. From the moment I slid behind the bar in Boston and she still kept her eyes and her smile for me, I knew I should have stayed away.

She could have gone with any of the guys I made drinks for that night. It’s not like they weren’t giving her the right signals. But she chose to stick with me.

That made something stir inside me. I should have let her go when she called it quits and asked for her tab. But she'd already moved me. She’d already planted her sweet hooks in me. And I wasn’t brave enough to fight it.

I wanted to taste that connection, for just one night.

For once in my life.

Truth be told? I think someone was looking after me, the other day in my pub, when I lashed out at her. Someone was making sure I broke our connection, forever. No going back. No daydreaming about what ifs. No trying to woo her now.

Good.

Moose’s bark pulls me out of my thoughts. He was outside. I knew it.

I open the back door, car lights blinding me.

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