Page 12 of Twisted Thorns

I try to brush off their warnings and vague comments, but it only makes me more curious. I had seen Kieran and his brother Liam in the restaurant the other night, and something about him had captivated me. It wasn't just his rugged good looks or his magnetic dark eyes. There is something else that draws me to him.

Since then, my dreams have been filled with Kieran - his powerful arms around me, full lips claiming mine. It both scares and thrills me all at once. And during the day, I swear I can feel his eyes on me as I go about my daily routine.

But despite my curiosity and attraction towards Kieran, my friends refuse to tell me anything more about him. So I decide to take matters into my own hands and find out about him myself.

I take the long way into town, still not able to drive the same route that I had my accident on. It takes longer to get anywhere this way, but I have fewer nightmares. Heading into town, my eyes scan the streets and shops for anyone who might have insight into the elusive Kieran Calder.

As I pass the bar that I ran into Kieran a couple of weeks ago, an idea comes to me. Bartenders are known to be fonts of gossip and rumor. Surely someone there has stories to share if plied with a drink or two.

I pull into the parking lot and make my way inside the dimly lit bar, the fragrance of stale beer permeating the air. I’m not the only one here, and other patrons dot the bar counter, with a few more having lunch at the tables.

"What can I get you, lass?" the bartender asks in his gruff voice.

"Oh, just an iced tea for now, thanks," I say as I slide onto a bar stool.

He raises an eyebrow but pours my drink without comment. As I take a sip, I gather my nerve.

"I was wondering if you could help me with something," I begin casually. "I'm trying to find out some information about Kieran Calder."

The bartender's eyes widen briefly before his expression turns guarded. "Can't say I know much about him or his family. They keep to themselves mostly."

I study his face, certain he knows more than he's admitting. I lean in conspiratorially, pulling a $20 dollar bill from my jeans pocket and sliding it across the counter.

"Please, I'd be very grateful for anything you could tell me. I'm just so fascinated by him," I say, infusing my voice with as much innocent allure as I can muster.

The bartender hesitates, then relents. "Not much to tell, really. The Calders have lived here for ages, but don't mingle with the townsfolk."

He polishes a glass, then adds quietly, "Best steer clear of Kieran, though. He has a dangerous air about him."

Just then, a burly patron at the end of the bar overhears our conversation and interjects gruffly, "You're asking about Kieran Calder? Watch yourself around that one; he's not someone you want to cross." His words hang ominously in the air as he takes another swig of his drink.

My heart races as the patron's words sink in. What does everyone mean by "watch yourself" around Kieran? I can't help but feel drawn to him, but now I'm starting to question if that's a good thing.

Before I can ask any further questions, the patron finishes his drink and leaves without another word. The bartender looks at me with a mix of pity and caution, as if he knows something he's not telling me.

"Is there something you're not telling me about Kieran?" I press, hoping against hope that he'll crack under my persistent questioning.

But the bartender just shakes his head. "I've said all I know. Now why don't you leave this alone before you get yourself into trouble."

I sigh in frustration and finish my iced tea. It seems like no one wants to tell me anything about Kieran, and those who do only warn me to stay away from him. But the more people try to scare me off, the more determined I become to uncover his secrets.

Leaving the pub, I decide to take a walk around town in hopes of stumbling upon someone else who might have information about Kieran Calder. But as I stroll through the quaint streets and charming shops, it seems like everyone is purposely avoiding talking about him.

Feeling defeated, I make my way back home as dusk settles over the horizon.

Chapter 7

Avalina

I’m getting ready to go for a morning walk in the woods when I knock sounds at my door. I open it to find Amanda standing there, dressed in the latest Saturday fashion trend of tan ankle boots with distressed jeans and a pale pink slouchy sweater. She looks like effortless grace, but I know that casual look costs hundreds.

She smiles brightly as she holds up a tray of to-go coffees and a paper bag. “I thought since you’ve been too busy to text me back that I’d come to you. And I brought treats.”

“Text you back?” I ask, trying to catch up with what Amanda is saying as I move back to let her into my apartment. Amanda sets the treats on my coffee table, unwrapping the bag and handing me a coffee before nestling into the couch, turning so she can look at me while she talks.

“About Mickey! How did the date go? I want to know all the details. Has he asked you to the Preston Gala yet? Because if he hasn’t, I’ve got some other date ideas.”

I accept the coffee, cradling the warmth in my hands, and sink into the other side of the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. "It was... underwhelming," I begin, hesitating. "Mickey seemed more interested in his stock portfolio, his parents' summer house in the Hamptons, and how I fit into a dress than he was in anything I had to say."

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