Page 4 of The Lair

I had never heard such a gruff yet soothing voice in my life. It made a strange jolt run down my rigid spine. When I looked up, Iunderstood why this place was called The Lair—a bear-man was hiding in here.

And that in itself might have been the understatement of the century. Tall, much taller than me, stood a huge man with a scowl so deep, it rivaled my mother’s. Only his didn’t have that layer of cruelty I’d learned to spot so easily.

A flannel shirt covered everything from his collarbone down to his hairy forearms, which I could see because his sleeves were rolled up, as if he’d been doing some kind of handiwork. With those ginormous hands and long, thick fingers, it wouldn’t faze me if he could build a house from the ground up.

For someone working in customer service, I thought he had the grouchiest face. And that was saying something, considering I’d seen many faces in the past six years. Too many.

Yet I didn’t feel an immediate urge to run away. The thinnest layer of kindness shone in his green eyes—or maybe it was wishful thinking. Because no kindness meant I could very easily end up in a ditch by the end of my meal.

Don’t think about that. Not anymore.

I could tell his lips were plump and kind of rosy, even though they were pressed into a thin, hard line. Straight nose, bushy eyebrows. Mid- to late thirties, if I had to guess, which would make him a decade older than me. Not that this stranger’s age was any of my business.

My perusal couldn’t have lasted longer than two seconds, but it was enough to make things awkward. I remember he repeated, voice slightly more irritated, “Can I get you anything?”

He knew I’d been staring, and it was nothing short of mortifying.

“A cheeseburger and a Budweiser, please.”

Bear-man only narrowed his eyes at me, silent for a moment that stretched and stretched.

“How old are you?”

Ah, of course. A classic.

Society needed to get rid of the notion that chubby cheeks were baby-like features because some grown people couldn’t do anything about them—nor did we want to. Plus, it’s not like I looked like a teenager.

But I knew there was nothing I could do or say to convince this massive stranger I wasn’t underage except for handing him my ID, as mortifying as it was. The piece of plastic trembled between my fingers—only slightly—as I held it out for him to inspect.

Those narrowed eyes narrowed a little more, and I found myself gulping even though I had nothing to hide—not regarding my age.

“California.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation, but it felt like both to me. “Long way from Maine.”

I said nothing, and he didn’t ask me anymore not-questions. Without another word, he disappeared behind the bar.

Like a coward, I rolled my eyes when I knew he wasn’t looking. If he wasn’t back in five minutes with my beer, I would find another place in this godforsaken town to drown my hangry demons in.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I slipped my hand inside as I kept my eyes on the four occupied tables. Every man in this place had decided to ignore the female newcomer, and I was all about that.

I held my phone under the table, as I had done countless times in high school, and was relieved to find a notification from Jada. She’d caught me sneaking furtive glances at my phone more than once during her lessons, but never told my parents. She knew I had enough on my plate as it was.

Jada

Where are you now?

I typed out my reply before a gigantic shadow was cast over me.

Me

Bannport, Maine

A cold Budweiser was placed in front of me, and I almost cried from joy.

“Thank you.” I smiled up at the grouchy stranger, and I got exactly what I suspected he’d give me in return—a scowl.

Whatever.

He left as quickly as he came, and I went back to my conversation with Jada.

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