Page 38 of Trouble Walked In

He wanted to add that he’d love to reach for more intimate places and that he’d be happy to move the car to a more secluded part of the parking lot to explore that idea, but he refrained from saying that out loud.

She rolled her eyes at him as if he could read his thoughts and retrieved the paperwork.

He called the number listed on the front for emergencies. After several excruciating minutes arguing with an automated message system, he managed to get the promise of help. He hung up. “They say it’ll take an hour or so.”

She snorted. “Right. The last time I called roadside assistance I was stuck for three hours, and that was in the middle of town. Nothing moves that fast up here.”

He opened the door. “Screw this. There’s bound to be a spare tire.”

He slammed the door and walked to the back of the SUV. It wasn’t the type to have a tire hanging off the back. It must be hiding inside.

He heard the passenger door open and footsteps heading away from the car.

He poked his head around the side. “Hey, where are you going?”

Lizzie waved her hand at the seedy looking bar. “I’m getting a drink.”

He hesitated. He really wanted to get back to the inn, but letting a woman walk alone into a place like this seemed like a bad idea.

He pulled open the hatch and did a quick check. As it turned out, the rental car didn’t even have a cheap donut spare to use. “Dammit.”

He locked the car and followed Lizzie.

The outside of the bar looked like something out of a horror movie, with worn-out gray siding and old road signs for decoration. Stepping inside, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom he’d been expecting, but was surprised to find the place well lit, both with indirect lights overhead and chandeliers made out of wagon wheels.

A long bar stretched along the back wall opposite him, and the space in front was filled with standing tables for the serious drinkers. The rest of the place was a restaurant. The dark wood chairs looked comfortable, and the tables had menus propped up between condiment bottles.

It was surprisingly busy for lunch on a Wednesday. A lot of the tables were occupied, and the sounds of happy conversations made it feel cozy instead of seedy. A waitress in jeans and a white T-shirt with the Still & Grill logo on it delivered a tray of burgers and fries to two women who looked like teachers or office workers.

This wasn’t a seedy bar at all. It was a local hot spot.

A young man was busy setting up a microphone near the upright piano on stage. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a football player physique and hair just long enough toqualify him for bad-boy status. He was probably local, maybe a college kid here to earn a few bucks during the lunch rush.

Renic had seen hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him over the years. Most didn’t have that special something that would lift them out of the bars and county fairs and into the spotlight.

Lizzie was leaning on the bar, talking to the bartender. He joined her in time to hear her say, “Give me something that’ll makehimless irritating.”

“Gotcha.” The bartender chuckled, then glanced at Renic. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said.

“Right,” the bartender said and moved away.

Renic gestured toward the tables. “Looks like we have time to kill. You hungry?”

“Sure.” She glanced at him, then quickly looked away as if suddenly unsure of herself.

“Grab a seat. I’ll be right there.”

He watched her walk away, appreciating the swing of her hips as she wound her way through the tables. She chose a two-top right in the middle of the room with a clear view of the stage.

The bartender returned with two dark bottles and set them in front of Renic. “This’ll smooth the rough edges a bit.” He winked and popped the top on each bottle.

Renic paid, then took the bottles to Lizzie and sat down. He handed one to her before holding up his own. “Cheers.”

She clicked her bottle against his. “Thanks.”

Lizzie studied the label, which featured a voluptuous woman in a red dress hitting a man on the head with a hammer.

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