Page 9 of Cedarwood Cabin

Turning my head, I see Nancy behind the bar. She looks different from when I saw her just this morning. Her red hair is now tied back and her makeup is done nicely, giving her a professional look.

My father and I walk over to the bar. He pulls out a stool for me and I hop on it. He then takes the stool next to me and settles in.

“What can I get you both to drink?” Nancy asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“I’ll have a beer and Flora will have a white wine,” my father replies.

Nancy smirks at my father and states, “I can’t serve her wine. You need to be over twenty-one here.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” my father says.

“Just a Cola, please, Nancy,” I request.

Nancy nods her head and turns around, grabbing our rinks and placing them in front of us. As the night goes on, more locals enter the bar. The jukebox begins to play a mixture of classic rock and country tunes as my father, Nancy, and I chat and laugh together.

“There’s a mini concert here next week and multiple bands are playing,” Nancy says, leaning over the bar. My father looks at me, his eyebrows raised. I meet his gaze with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” he replies.

Nancy’s face lights up at his response. “The lineup is going to be good. A few locals will be playing,” she says.

She starts cleaning the bar, running a cloth over it as my father and I enjoy some food. He munches on a hotdog while I dig into a bowl of chili. The atmosphere is lively yet relaxed.

Suddenly, the bar door flings open. A group of individuals walk in, immediately catching my attention.

The first two men have tattoos over their bodies; I recognize them as the bikers I keep seeing around town. I catch their attention as they look straight at me with intense gazes. My breath hitches in my throat. The man with light brown hair that swoops over his forehead smirks at me. Feeling nervous, I don't know how to react.

The other man with combed back, darker hair with tattoos climbing up his neck, nudges his friend. They both stride over to the pool tables.

“Crap,” Nancy mumbles under her breath.

My father leans over the bar. “Who are they?” he asks curiously.

“The Faulkner brothers,” Nancy replies, keeping her voice low. “One of them is on the local motocross team. They aren't good news, nor bad, but they have a reputation. I can’t complain, though. They spend a lot of money when they come into town.”

Trying to focus on my bowl of chili, I turn around, facing the bar yet feeling flustered.

I feel like someone’s eyes are lingering on me, but I don’t want to turn around and investigate.

“They usually have a few drinks and shoot a couple of games of pool. They can get rowdy, but they’ve never caused real trouble,” Nancy whispers to my father.

“As long as they don’t start trouble here.” He glances at the pool table where the Faulkner brothers are.

The smirk from the light-haired brother flashes in my mind, making my heart beat a little faster.

I glance at the pool table as the Faulkner brothers laugh and joke with their friends.

“Jerry!” a voice shouts from behind us.

We look over our shoulders and see Marty walking in.

“Hey! What are you doing here, Marty?”

“Well, I fancied a beer after work,” he replies, grabbing a stool beside my father. Nancy gives Marty a friendly nod and passes him a beer. He and my father dive into a conversation about work.

I turn back to my bowl of chili, but feel a presence beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the Faulkner brothers. The one with the darker hair and tattoos stands close, towering over me. His scent of smoke mixed with men’s cologne wafts over me. I don't know why, but it makes my heart race.

He tosses his credit card onto the bar and says in a deep voice, “Keep the beers coming.”

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