Page 8 of Somewhere You Belong

My head rears back on my neck. “Someone like me?”

She nods. “You have local handyman-bartender vibes written all over you,” she says, waving her hand at me.

“More like restaurant and bar owner. My brother is the bartender and handyman.”

“Well, good for you, and your brother, but I don’t belong here.” She brings her glass to her lips, draining her drink dry right before my eyes. I watch her throat bob up and down as she takes back the martini with minimal effort. As she sets the glass on the bar, she moves to stand, unsteady on her feet.

“You shouldn’t be driving.” I nearly reach out to steady her but catch myself.

“I’m fine,” she says as she clears her throat, pasting on a smile.

“You’re swaying in your Manolos.”

“They’re Louboutins, and they were not made for these uneven wooden floors,” she retorts. “But I’m impressed you know designer shoes.”

“Well, I figure the price of the shoe should match the pretention you exude,” I reply, feeling myself grow more irritated with this woman by the second.

Who does she think she is waltzing into my town and sneering down at me, or anyone else for that matter?

“You have a lot of nerve judging me when you don’t know the first thing about me.” With a purse of her lips, she tosses a fifty-dollar bill on the counter and then reaches for her purse. “That should cover two martinis.”

“More like four. That’s too much.”

“Keep the change. Consider it a large tip.” She tosses her gaze around the room. “And perhaps you can use the extra money to buy yourself some manners as well.” With a lift of her purse, she spins on her heels and walks away from me, and I hate that I’m watching her ass as she does.

Who the fuck is that woman?

It doesn’t matter. She was just another tourist passing through. Don’t let her get to you, Dallas.

“Who was that?” Penn asks, coming up beside me, mimicking my own thoughts as we both watch her walk out the door and down the sidewalk, the dark sky providing a backdrop that she clearly stands out against.

“Someone too good for our little town apparently.”

Penn narrows his eyes at me. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, attempting to shake off the interaction with her. “I’m going to go into my office for a while. You think you can hold down the fort?”

He nods. “You got it.”

I pat him on the back. “Don’t stare at Astrid too much though, okay? I don’t want a harassment suit to deal with.”

Penn shoves my shoulder. “Fuck off.”

Chuckling to myself, I push through the double doors and walk down the hallway that leads to my office. As I take a seat in my chair, I begin gathering paperwork with the intent to get some work done, but all I can see isher—the blonde from out of town, the stuck-up suit that clearly thought she was better than all of us here.

It’s not the first time someone like that has come through our small town, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. But I hate that no matter how hard I try, our conversation—albeit a brief one—won’t leave my mind.

And neither does the image of her ass in that skirt and heels as she walked away from me.

Chapter three

Willow

“Sleep. You need sleep and tomorrow this should all be over, Willow.” The stressful breath that leaves my lips as I exit the small-town bar I stumbled upon when I arrived in Carrington Cove a little less than an hour ago has me feeling unsure about being here all over again.

And the owner—all broody and judgmental from the moment he laid eyes on me—he’s the exact kind of person I want to avoid while I’m here.

One of the things I like about living in the city is the fact that people don’t give a rat’s ass about who you are or what you’re doing. Everyone is too busy with their own lives, their own to-do lists and priorities, to be bothered about what’s going on in the lives of others.

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