Page 16 of Howling Night

After a quick shower, I tugged on a pair of shorts and the Black Construction shirt since I didn’t have plans to leave the property. It hung loose, almost to mid-thigh, so I tied it in a knot at my waist.

I caught myself in the mirror and rolled my eyes. The irony of wearing his company logo after he’d nearly flattened me wasn’t lost on me.

I grabbed my paperback and my coffee to sit out on the front porch and enjoy the peace and quiet I’d supposedly moved out here for. The morning air was crisp with just enough chill to make the hot coffee feel perfect between my palms. Birds were singing, bugs were buzzing, and there wasn’t a car horn or siren for miles. The calming, sweet, floral scent of flowers filled the breeze, and I sighed. I had to admit, the countryside had its perks.

I settled into one of the chairs, propping my bare feet on the porch railing, and cracked open my book. I’d just found my place when movement caught my eye.

A woman in bright purple leggings and a very unmatching neon green windbreaker was power-walking down the road. She was pumping her arms like she was racing for an Olympic gold medal.

She waved, and it took a second for me to recognize Sheila from the diner. Her white hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, barely holding half of her curls back.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” she called.

I lifted my coffee mug in greeting, figuring she’d continue marching on by. Instead, she made a sharp turn up my driveway and toward the house.

Great. So much for my quiet morning.

I kept my book open as she approached the porch, hoping she’d take the hint. The woman wasn’t even out of breath as she marched in place on my front lawn.

“Already settling in like a local, huh?” she said, her eyes dropping to my shirt. “Did you get the job?”

I shook my head. “He hired someone else.”

“Oh, well, I thought of you last night when Steven Perkins stopped by the diner,” Sheila said, still marching.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is.”

“Right,” she said, pumping her fists. “He owns the bar just outside of town and needed help tending the bar tonight, which I can’t do. I guess Laura can’t make it or something, and with it being a Friday, he plans on it being busy, busy, busy.”

I narrowed my eyes. “The bar scene is not really my thing.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought maybe you could help out. He pays real good.”

I blinked, taken aback. “I... I don’t know if I’m looking for?—”

“Before you say no, it’s just for the night. Cash,” she added with a sharp nod. “It’s really easy too. No one orders anything fancy. Pretty much only beer, really, and you won’t be alone. Donna Waterson and Paul Meyers will be there too.”

“I wish I could say that makes me feel better, but I don’t know them either,” I said, pressing my lips together into a thin smile.

Sheila dug into her jacket pocket. She came closer and handed me a business card. “I promise you, it’ll be worth it. Can I tell him to expect your call?”

ChapterEight

“I hope I don’t regret this, but sure,” I said, setting the card inside my book.

“You won’t! Trust me,” Sheila said, backing away. “I’d do it if I could. The Mister and I want a new fridge, but it’ll have to wait. I need to get moving. Have a good day now, okay?”

“You too,” I said, my shoulders dropping as she turned away.

I tucked the card between the pages of my book and immediately felt a pang of regret. Why couldn’t I just say no? It wasn’t like I needed the money right this second, and the thought of that bar scene made me cringe internally. All those people, the noise, the chaos — it would be absolutely dreadful.

I sighed, watching Sheila’s retreating form. She seemed so excited about this opportunity she was passing my way, like she was doing me some grand favor. Probably in her mind, she was.

A new set of chairs for the porch would be nice. Maybe a swing even. The chairs left behind by the previous owner were far from comfortable, and I did hope to spend more time outside enjoying nature. I could use some new clothes, too. Everything I owned was too… well, too nice for all the dirt and bugs in the country.

Still, none of it was worth subjecting myself to whatever rowdy nightmare awaited me at the bar. Maybe I could still back out.

I went inside, my head buzzing with conflicted thoughts. The card felt like it was burning a hole in my book. I pulled it out and tapped the number on my phone.

---