Page 6 of The One With The Secret Crushes

Even though I never once let on, I read every book they picked and was listening along to their babbling while I worked. I liked knowing what they were talking about—even if it was gruesome shit.

"Thanks for the pep talk." We traded our usual handshake.

"Travis's Love Line is available from eight to eight every weekday, Monday to Friday. Any love emergencies on the weekend are to be directed to Huk's Heart Rehab, preferably at an ungodly hour as retribution for being long distance at all fucking times."

"You think he'll come back for Karis?" Huk's little sister was suddenly a single mom after her cheating husband skipped town without a backward glance.

A pencil snapped in Travis's hand. "Yeah, I do. I still can't believe that sniveling little shit disappeared before any of us could beat his ass."

We were all best friends, but we all knew there was a special bond between Travis and Huk. They watched over each other's siblings like protective bears. Travis took it hard that he'd been on a mountain when the news hit the gossip airwaves and he couldn't personally escort Julien out of town. Gossip either started in my bar or ended there. Unfortunately this was one of the time's I heard about it last. Julien had packed two bags and roared out of town by the time any of us knew what happened.

"I'm sorry for Karis but I won't be upset if we get Huk back for a few days." I missed his grouchy ass. It sucked having to carry the grouchy load all alone. We all had our roles in our group. Travis was the ex-football player who charmed tourists and kept our energy up. He was our happy. Digger on the other hand the quieter version of Travis. He had zero intention of ever having a traditional relationship and liked his sex life spicy. He was our intellectual schemer. Huk kept us on the straight and narrow, even from a distance. He was the voice of reason, hated large groups and loud noise, and kept to himself unless he was with us. I was the grouch behind the bar, providing the beer, and pining for a woman who would never love me.

"You and me both," Travis agreed. "We could all use a good head smacking."

"You just filled in pretty well."

"And I didn't particularly like it. I don't mind that shit with Joanne and Lucy but talking you through heart troubles gives me the ick."

"You shouldn't have opened up Travis's Love Line then." I opened the door and stepped outside.

"I take it back. The Love Line is closed. Only annoy Huk!"

The door swung shut and I took a cleansing breath as I stared at Still Standing Saloon. I loved my Uncle Jerry but a businessman he was not. He would have had to sell it if I hadn't plucked it out of his hands when I did. It was a shit ton of work, but worth it. Between giving it a facelift and finding some side streams of income, I was now turning a tidy profit.

Lost Creek was a tiny little postage stamp of a town nestled onto a strip of land deep inside the gorge carved out by the river. My bar marked the north end of town and the TBR Pile marked the south end. Between them lay only ODX and the Green Door on one side of the road, and our little store and the town's only administration building on the other, beside the river. That was the entirety of downtown Lost Creek. The schools and public works buildings were all on a road a quarter of a mile away and our residents lived up and down the surrounding mountains. It was a small town, but it had everything we needed. And what it didn't have could be found in the bigger cities just over an hour away.

Instead of going straight to the saloon, I walked across the parking lot to the TBR Pile. There was an unusually large crowd on the sidewalk in front of the Green Door, but that was nothing new for Lost Creek. There was probably a juicy new piece of gossip everyone was babbling over. The town hadn't stopped buzzing about Karis Finn and most likely it had something to do with that.

The TBR Pile was a cozy and surprisingly large bookstore that leaned into the exposed wood beams, wooden bookcases and floors, and mixed it with plush couches, soft displays of the season—flowers for spring—and pale blue walls. Tourists wandered in thinking it would be a cute little shop to browse for a few minutes and got lost inside it instead.

I quickly grabbed a copy of next month's book selection off the display by the counter and paid. "Another serial killer? Can't they read books about crimes of passion or even accidental murder?"

Willow shook her head and shrugged. "That's why they're banned from meeting here, my friend. Good luck to you. I can't believe you're actually reading along."

I pointed the book at her. "That's our little secret."

She pursed her lips and slid a paper bag my way so I could disguise my book. "Your secrets are safe with me, my friend."

I could purchase the e-book instead and then no one would ever know what I was doing, but I preferred to shop in town as much as possible. It was hard enough keeping a bar up and running in a small town. I couldn't imagine how Willow kept a whole assed bookstore profitable.

"Until next month." I slipped the covered book into my back pocket and opened the door just as a very frenzied Mackenzie Howard blasted through and into my arms.

Well, not quite the way I wanted her to, but her body was flush against mine and falling so I caught her as best I could without mauling her. She was soft and vibrating. The scent of chocolate and vanilla hit me a beat before syrup and pancakes and coffee. I wanted to haul her up against me and kiss her until I tasted every one of those scents.

Instead I steadied her on her feet and smiled.It's go time."Hey Mackenzie."

Three

Mackenzie

It would be like the river turning to fondue chocolate, but no one was allowed to dip their strawberries and bananas in it.

Scott Shaw was holding me.And it feltso good.Why, oh why, did he have to go and forget me?

Maybe it was the whole disappearing for a decade that did it.

I didn't want it to end, but assuming I could simply stay in his arms was unwise. So was looking up into his smiling eyes when he said my name.

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