Page 63 of Trouble Me
Shane chuckled. “How about Monday? I’m taking the weekend off.”
Adam nodded and put the card into his back pocket. “Monday it is.” He pointed at Shane. “Need anything else right now?”
“I’m good.” Adam hustled away and Shane focused on the television screen hanging over the bar, idly watching sports highlights, sipping more whiskey. It hit his belly and a satisfying warmth spread through him.
“You must be Shane Kavanaugh.” A feminine voice drifted to him from his left. He turned to find a red-haired woman perched on the stool next to him. She was a tiny sprite of a woman, overly made up and overdressed for the establishment. Without all the makeup, Shane figured she was about his age, mid-thirties, but with all the caked-on colors, she looked older. She might have been pretty once, but she looked like life hadn’t thrown her too many bones and bitterness seeped into the lines of her face.
“You’d be right. I don’t think we’ve met.”
Her lips pulled into a smile that revealed two rows of perfect, stark-white teeth, as fake as the breasts her tight sweater barely covered. She held out a hand and pushed the mounds of silicone out. “Tara Moore.”
He shook her hand so that he wouldn’t appear rude. “Nice to meet you, Tara. What are you drinking? I’ll have the good man Adam refill it for you.”
She giggled and put a hand over her bosom. “So handsome and a gentleman to boot. Vodka tonic, please.”
Shane signaled Adam. “Add a vodka tonic to my bill for Ms. Moore, here.”
Adam nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, Shane spied Tara giving him a once-over and licking her slick, cotton candy-colored lips. “So,” she started, “you’re renovating that new winery in town, aren’t you?”
Shane nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes narrowed and her smile faltered for a moment, but then reappeared, twice as bright.
“That’s just fabulous. You know, I read about your company. It’s an honor to have someone of your caliber here in our little mountain town.”
“I like this little mountain town. It has a lot to offer in terms of wine and other things.” His thoughts drifted to Emma, and everything she’d shown him he’d been missing.
“Yes, I suppose.” Tara laid a manicured hand on Shane’s forearm. “I’ve heard you’re working with some of the Reynolds clan. Noah’s a good man, but that Amelia can be a bit...forward at times. And Emma?” She rolled her eyes and placed a hand over her heart again. “It’s just terrible about her. Frankly, I can’t believe she’s working in your winery, with her problem and all.” She clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Those Reynolds have a rep to uphold.”
He smiled slightly, trying to keep her talking, but a cold feeling of dread started in his belly. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
Tara leaned forward, the tips of her fake boobs brushing his arm. He shifted his arm away from her under the guise of listening intently. “The whole town knows about it. She’s a drunk. Well, not anymore. Not since that drunken fall down the stairs that landed her in a coma. She went to rehab. She’s been sober since.” Bitterness set in the lines on her face and filled her dark brown eyes. “Or so those Reynolds say, anyway. I think they’re covering for her just like they did for her daddy’s gambling addiction.” She sighed and picked up the fresh drink Adam had silently put in front of her. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
Shane’s brain stuttered to a stop. Emma was an alcoholic? That couldn’t be right. He focused in on the woman in front of him, who was sipping on the straw in her drink in a way that Shane figured someone must have told her was sexy once, but just made her look desperate. He recalled her tone when talking about Emma and her family. Bad blood and gossipmongering colored her words.
Still, wasn’t there always a kernel of truth in a rumor? Fear, dread, and the all-around “what the fuck?” feeling raced through his veins. His throat constricted, making it hard for him to draw a full breath. His clothes felt a size too small and there was pain in every nerve of his body. So many thoughts swirled in his mind, he couldn’t keep them straight. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there.
Sending Tara a smile, he rose and tossed a few bills on the battered bar to cover his tab. “Gotta run, but it was nice talking to you, Tara.”
She sputtered, but he walked off before she could form a coherent sentence. He needed to talk to Emma. All he wanted to do was find out if everything the over-made, bitter, town gossip had said about the woman he had come to trust with his business and, more importantly, his heart, was true.
If it was, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle the betrayal.
