Page 83 of Between Never and Forever
“Then why isn’t it done?”
“Because my hardass boss has had me working overtime while he tries to single-handedly repair every last bit of destruction from the hurricane, that’s why.”
I flick my eyes past her toward the house and call for Brynn. She comes running back out of the door, jumps off the porch and throws her arms around my waist in a hug. I can’t get over how much taller she’s gotten in the last few months. She was barely four feet at her school physical last August. I run my hands over the back of her head, smoothing down her wild brown curls, and return the hug.
“Be good for Ms. Sharon,” I tell her, and she laughs as she drops her arms and steps back.
“Duh, Dad.”
I smirk and then look to Sharon. “Call if you need me.”
“We’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”
“Have fun, Boss.”
I give Brynn’s hair one last ruffle before walking to my truck. The moment I’m in it, I send a text to Lucas telling him to power wash Sharon’s house on Monday. Sharon might be stubborn, but so am I.
I back out of the drive and head to one of my favorite bars on the harbor, SandBar. It’s right on the water, the kitchen is open late, and they have live music on the patio most Saturday nights in the summer. No one big—just local musicians and bands—but it’s always a good time. After the day I’ve had, I could use a cold beer, a sea breeze, and music that isn’t Savannah related.
It’s about as busy as you’d expect it to be on a Friday. Some of my guys are at the pool tables in back and they spot me walk in. They call my name and I give them a nod of acknowledgement, but I don’t walk toward them. Instead, I lean into the bar.
“Hey there, stranger,” Molly says after a minute, already sliding me an open bottle. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”
I take the beer and grunt out my thanks.
“Works been busy,” I say, after taking a drink from the bottle.
She leans her forearms onto the bar top, pressing her tits up so her cleavage is damn near falling out of her low-cut tank top. I let my gaze run across her collarbone and over the swell of her breasts before I bring them back to her face. I didn’t come here for this, but now that I’m here...
“I suppose being a saint and a savior is hard work,” she says.
I take another long pull from my beer, bouncing my eyes between hers, and she brings her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t see Brynn,” she says after a moment. “Are you flying solo tonight?”
I nod once and she smiles softly, her pink lips curving flirtatiously upward in a way I know intimately. Usually, I don’t hook up with women from my small town. If I want someone for a night, or a week, I do it outside the county. But Molly and I have an agreement. She knows the deal, and she keeps it quiet. Just sex, no strings. She doesn’t come around the house when Brynn is home. We don’t call or text each other unless it’s to confirm a meet up. We don’t stay the night. We don’t cuddle. We don’t pillow talk.
Just sex. No strings.
“I’m off at eleven tonight.”
I let my mouth turn upward on the side, a half-smile that tints her exposed collarbone pink and quickens her breathing. I set my bottle on the bar and lean forward, bringing my lips to the shell of her ear.
“Eleven-oh-five.”
I pull back and she winks at me, then goes to tend to the other customers. I take my beer and head out to the patio seating to snag a stool at the outdoor bar. Just as I’m sitting down, another beer bottle is set onto the bar top, and I look up to find Chet, another bartender.
“You’re getting low there,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“On your tab?” he asks, and I lift my beer bottle in confirmation, then turn my attention to the waterway.
This town is right at the mouth of river before it connects to the Atlantic, so the water is salty and at night you can still hear the waves crashing on the distant shore.
Boats are docked up for the night, and I watch their silhouettes sway with the gentle movement of the current. There’s classic rock playing on the jukebox inside and the music streams on the patio through the speakers. On nights when there’s live music, the jukebox is turned off, but tonight it’s on and free to use.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, consciously relaxing my shoulders and jaw, then imagine exhaling all of my tension. It’s something the support group social worker used to have us do, and I’ve continued doing it even after I stopped attending support group. I still take Brynn to her sessions with her counselor, but after the hurricane, I stopped making the time for mine.
