Page 9 of Here In Your Arms

“Busy night?” I ask her as she comes back over to my side of the bar.

“It’s been worse.” She grabs another patron’s glass to replenish. “What do you do for work?” she asks before collecting another patron’s bill.

“Construction,” I answer when she’s back from cashing them out.

“What kind?”

“Buildings. My company puts up new buildings and does repairs.”

“So you’re not part of the road construction crews that everyone hates?”

“No way. They get paid well, but that shit’s dangerous and everyone hates road construction,” I say with a chuckle at the end.

She’s finally stopped moving momentarily and she leans a hip against her side of the bar. “Dangerous?”

“Yeah, working on the road like that with people flying by at high speed. Workers can get hit and die. That’s why the fines are so high,” I explain to her.

“Damn,” she says softly. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a good reminder for me to pay attention then. Not that I drive distracted, but even so.”

I nod. “I know it’s appreciated by the road crews when people follow those signs. I have a couple buddies who work on the road.”

She smiles at me, and I can see it’s genuine. Her eyes crinkle on the outside edges and her nose does too, ever so slightly near the inside of her eyes. My answering smile is big, pleased at seeing her genuine smile.

A few coworkers slap me on the back to say goodbye, and I realize I essentially ditched them to talk with Rory. I wave at them, and plan to apologize to them tomorrow for the unintentional abandonment.

I glance at my watch and see it’s almost 7 p.m., probably time for me to vacate as well. I sigh and down the rest of my beer while Rory is occupied. When she turns back, I give her an apologetic smile.

“Just realized the time. Okay if I cash out? I had one beer at our table and this.”

“Yeah sure, didn’t realize we’d been chatting that long,” Rory replies as she pulls up my tab.

“Time goes fast with a gorgeous woman to talk to.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

“Oh I don’t know about that, Whes, but I do know good company makes time fly,” she counters.

I sign my part of the slip. “Do you work most weekends?” I ask and hold my hands up, palms out. “I know, sounds creepy, but I really enjoyed chatting with you. Hopefully, I can catch you again.”

She eyes me up and down, assessing me. Rory glances toward the same spot as before, but fixes her eyes back on me. “I’m here most weekends, WHES, so maybe I’ll see you around,” she finally tells me.

I take another glance at baldie, and sure enough, he’s focused on Rory, with a cursory glance at me. Deciding it would be better to go, I knock twice on the counter before stepping away.

“See you soon, I hope,” I tell her as I walk away, adding a wink as I go.

She smiles and flushes slightly before giving a slight wave and turning back to her work. As I make my way to my car, my mind keeps going back to those green eyes. They pull you in so easily, and I find I don’t want to leave them. Maybe I found our girl, even if she’s not the gym girl. With warmth in my chest, I head home to tell Kyle about tonight.

Chapter 5

Rory

Days with Claire are my favorite. I hate that it’s necessary as often as it is, but I’m also not going to complain about more time with this wonderful girl. It’s with that thought that I finally drag myself out of bed. It’s not a bad brain day, but it’s not exactly a good one either. There’s some heaviness, but I’ll be able to function without faking most of it.

Glancing at the clock, I see my mom should be here in a bit to drop her off, so I get myself showered and dressed, putting my hair in its usual braid. I unlock the door and find some breakfast cereal to start the day right. Nothing like a shot of sugar from a cartoon animal to get me going. Shortly after I finish putting my breakfast bowl in the sink, I hear a knock at the door. Part of me wishes I lived in a building where you have to buzz people in, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“It’s open!” I call out.

My mom opens the door, Claire hot on her heels. She drops her bag on the couch and flops with a dramatic sigh that rivals a teenager’s.

“Rory, you need to lock your door,” my mom says by way of greeting.

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