Page 44 of When The Rain Falls

"Julie." My voice comes out like a crack of thunder. Where exactly was that voice when I was scolding Ruby about her phone? "Now."

Julie pauses as she holds her ear up to her phone. I can make out the faint shrill of Aimee talking rapidly. "I'mnotsaying that!" Julie protests, her eyes growing wide as she looks at me in horror. For fuck’s sake.

Julie finally holds out the phone to me and I take it firmly in my grip. It has a pink and purple tie-dye case. It's also sparkly. I feel weird pressing it against my face.

"What's going on?" I ask softly. Fuck. I should sound a little more scathing. But I’m not going to lie, I’m worried. Why would Aimee call Julie in the middle of her date, unless something went wrong? I tuck my free hand under my elbow. The muffled sound of country music plays in the background.

"Nothing," she says.

"Oh really?" I growl at her. There it is. The scathing. Aimee sighs, or is it a huff?

"I was going to ask Greg for a ride, but he's not answering and he's probably asleep already since he's as useful as a dancingsandwich," she continues. I try not to laugh at the phrasedancing sandwich.

I’m used to Aimee being chatty, but right now, her tone and pace seemdifferent. "It's fine because Alicia will get off work soon," she says. "So I'm fine. Forget I called. I was never here. Well there. Or, on the phone. You know."

"Send me the address," I say sternly. She needs a ride. I have a ride. It's common sense. That's how I do things. And she has blue panties. Fuck, Finn. No.

"I told you to forget it."

"Address. Now." My tone doesn’t waver.

She sighs loudly. "Fine.” Her tone tells me it's absolutely not fine. And that reminds me of Rebecca telling me thatI'm fineis the most common lie in the English language. I hear typing and then an address appears on Julie's screen. I pull up the text and study it. I know the place without even Googling it. "You're at Mike's Tavern? The one with the skeleton riding a motorcycle on the roof?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah," she says.

"Fucking Jack. That's not a place to take a lady."

Aimee just snorts. "Did you just call me a lady? You know you're talking to me, right?"

"I'll be there in twenty," is all I say.

Aimee

The light in Mike's Tavern is dim. It reeks of smoke and I'm the only female in the entire place. Well, except for a large woman with greasy hair and several missing teeth sitting at the bar, staring blankly into a glass of beer. The other patrons are an odd array of tattoos, leather, and beards. Literally everything inside is made of wood. The floors, the tables, the barstools, thecounter, the walls. The floorboards creak as you walk over them, giving away every step. It looks like a poorly maintained saloon straight from a western movie set. It even has a decorative swinging saloon door at the entrance. I keep expecting a cowboy to appear and silhouette the door frame, hand on a pistol at his hip.

My skin itches under the sensation of everyone's eyes crawling over me. My skimpy black dress makes me stand out. Not in a good way. The dress, the one I wasconvincedwas perfect for a first date and which I insisted to Finn was not a nightie, suddenly feels a little too short. I keep tugging the hemline down, but it just exposes more skin on my chest.A little too late for modesty.Also, I’m actually starting to get cold. I don’t know why I didn’t think to bring a sweater or something.

In summary, I feel like an idiot.

I'm sitting alone at a table while Jack and his friend are throwing darts. They're loud and drunk even though we've only been here an hour. Jack keeps laughing loudly at the vulgar comments being made by his friend, Toby. Not only do I hate this place, but I'm bored out of my mind. And there's no way I'm letting Jack drive me home. His dart game was strong thirty minutes ago, but now he's just sloppy, barely hitting the board most of the time. He's definitely too tanked to drive.

I keep checking my phone. But I never gave Finn my number so I can’t ask how far away he is. I should have given him my number. That way he could text when he arrived and I could sneak out under Jack’s nose. If he comes in here and Jack sees me leave with him, I'm afraid there’s going to be a scene. While it was fun fighting for their attention earlier, right now I just want to go home, crawl into bed, and nurse my wounds.

Tate was right. I shouldn’t have just gone on a date with a rando from the mall. Jack was not who I wanted him to be. And Finn is taken. Two fishing lines and not one fish.

The date started out perfectly. My ideal date. Fun, thrilling, exciting. Jack took me for a ride down a winding scenic rural road on his bike. The wind whipped playfully against my skin as we leaned into the turns together. We stopped at a lookout and Jack showed me views of the Puget Sound with the Tacoma Narrows Bridge in the background. I made a mental note to plot a course over it during one of my next runs. We kissed at the lookout. Under the shade cast by tall pine trees, with the sound of waves lapping the shore below us. And yet, it did nothing for me. Because all I could think about was what Finn's large body would feel like. Hard, and muscular, and large.

Then Jack got a call from Toby and the date went frommehtoworse. He brought me to Mike’s and I don’t know for sure, but I think Jack might have bought drugs off Toby in the parking lot. Unless Jack just really likes spices.

The saloon doors suddenly burst open and a broad male silhouette fills the doorway. There it is. The dramatic gunslinger entrance I had been waiting all night for. But my blood freezes when I realize who it is. Finn. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the way his body slinks dangerously across the bar. But, like I said, I don't want a scene. And I'm still annoyed at him for having a girlfriend. It's irrational. I know. He did nothing wrong. But tell my sad, pathetic heart that. Or the uncontrollable heat spreading between my thighs.

Finn walks in slowly. His fists are clenched. He looks like a bull, surveying the room looking for a target. A strong bull. A dangerous one. A bull that I would like to take for a ride, even for only eight seconds. A bull that is currently seeing red. Shit. Remember that scene I didn't want? Well, it's here.

"Hey, Jack," I call out as I grab my clutch from the table. I've got to dash out of here as fast as possible. But I also have to look casual, chill. Unsuspicious. "I've got a ride home, so I'm..." Jackturns at my voice. His blue eyes narrow. They’re so chilly. And it makes me realize how warm Finn’s stormy grey eyes are.

"What'shedoing here?" Jack asks, eyes focused on the menacing creature over my shoulder. "You're going home withhim? After I bought all your drinks?"

"No," I say quickly. "He's just giving me a ride. I'm tired." I turn, but Jack steps in and grabs my wrist. He grabs it hard.

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