Page 1 of It's Only Love

Chapter 1

I need a drink, a very big drink, Christy Lee sighed as she pulled her car into the parking lot of the Rusty Bucket Inn. She switched off the engine and peered up at the old building that was set back off the road, hidden away in the brush. If you didn’t know it was there, you would never find it. The inn itself was a rustic style bar and restaurant, that had a row of four cozy, log cabins located behind it for out-of-towners to stay in. Hell, the locals used them the most, usually after a few too many of Taylor, the owner’s, lethal cocktails. Next to the first row of cabins was Taylor's private cabin.

Christy hadn’t been back here for fifteen years but not much had changed. A wooden porch ran along the front of the building holding a couple of battered barstools, and there was a small, fairly new children’s play area to one side. The surrounding trees swayed gently in the breeze and with the moonlight peeking through here and there, the place looked goddamn picturesque. Christy checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Her blond curls had gone slightly fluffy in the heat and she already had a tinge of sunburn across her cheeks and nose.

She sighed and looked away, grabbing her purse and rummaging inside for her lipstick. Snagging the tube, she looked back at the mirror. Pink Dynamite was the name of it, and she was drawn to it the moment she saw it. The shade seemed like everything she wasn’t, loud, bold, confident, and sexy. The second the salesgirl applied the tester, Christy was sold. She had worn it now for ten years, it was like her safety blanket, and she felt naked without it.

She finished applying and dropped the tube back in her purse, took a deep breath, opened her car door, and headed towards the bar. The closer she got, the bigger the pit of nerves in her stomach seemed to grow, she chalked it up to seeing her friends for the first time in a year. They usually came to visit her in the city, they knew how she felt about her hometown. All this place did was remind her of grief, pain, and loneliness.

As she pushed open the doors, the sound of old school rock music washed over her, followed by a feeling of nostalgia. The scent of alcohol and cloying perfume hung heavy in the air, invading her nostrils. She glanced around the interior of the bar. Music posters of rock legends lined the walls, none of whom had ever performed here, but the bar was a hotbed for novice singers. In one corner, there was a small, wooden, curved stage with a couple of stools and a microphone.

Christy knew this was where Justine liked to perform regularly, she was a hit with the crowd, or so Christy had heard. Because she never came home, she never had the chance to see her best friend play, a wave of guilt washed over her at the thought. Hopefully, Justine would perform while she was in town and she would finally get to see her sing. Next to the stage was a corridor that led down the back of the bar and split off to the kitchens and the restrooms.

Opposite the entrance was the bar itself, neon signs and full-length mirrors ran along the wall behind it and bottles of spirits were stacked across the back. The bar was made from rich oak with a bronze rail along the front for patrons to lean on when they weren’t sitting on the worn, leather stools. The deep color and pattern of the wood made it the focal point of the room; she could see why Taylor was so proud of the place. The standard bar jukebox and pool table were also present, along with some worn leather booths that ran alongside the other end of the building.

Christy looked around, surprised at how packed the place was. Couples danced by the stage on the makeshift dance floor, and the tables surrounding it were nearly all full. A couple of guys were playing pool, two people were making out in a booth, and some elderly gentlemen were propping up the bar, flirting shamelessly with Taylor. When Taylor spotted her, she screamed and came charging around the bar, throwing herself at Christy.

“Oh my God, you came!” Taylor squealed.

“Of course I did, I got here this morning,” Christy replied, laughing. Taylor pulled back and looked Christy over.

“Fuck, you look gorgeous!” she exclaimed, and Christy felt herself flush. Taylor always complimented people, believing that everyone deserved to know how beautiful they were inside and out. Her compliments always made Christy feel a little uncomfortable, but because she was working on building her self-esteem, she embraced it. Christy looked Taylor over. Her friend was a tall sarcastic redhead covered in piercings and tattoos, whose language made sailors blush.

“So do you, as always. Is that a new piercing?” Christy asked, pointing to Taylor’s nose.

“Yeah, I suddenly realized the other day that I didn’t have it done, and two hours later, I did! Randy, Derek, move over and give Marilyn some room,” Taylor said, gesturing at the two older men at the bar. She pulled Christy over, put her on a stool and started making her a drink. Christy rolled her eyes at the nickname; her friends had called her Marilyn for years as she had the same blond, curly bob, and curves as the infamous star. Except her curves were much curvier and her hair was much fluffier. She had no idea who started saying it first, but it had been going on for a while. Christy gazed around again,

“This place is amazing. Is it always this busy?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? This is a quiet night,” Taylor replied, laughing. Christy could definitely see why Taylor was so attached to the place, it was cozy and inviting. As she continued looking around, she realized she wasn’t the only one who thought so as her eyes landed on the couple making out in the darkened booth. Hands were roving and she was sure they steamed up the window next to them, Christy blushed at the sight.

“Maybe they should get a room?” she joked as Taylor put her drink down on the bar in front of her. Oh goody, Sex on the Beach, my favorite! As Christy took a sip of the cocktail, Taylor looked over and chuckled, “They probably will, he’s practically our best customer.”

“Who’s that?” Christy asked, but Taylor had moved away to get Randy and Derek a couple more beers. Christy turned to watch the couple again, her curious eyes drawn to them. Heat rushed through her, followed by a sense of longing. To be wanted like that, so wrapped in someone that the world melts away, she’d never had that feeling before. She probably wouldn’t now that she swore off everbeing in a relationship again.

The couple eventually came up for air, and Christy locked eyes with the man over his partner’s shoulder, his electric blue eyes flashing even in the low light of the bar. They pierced through her, pinning her in place and she held her breath, her mouth ran dry. She licked her lips, inhaled sharply, and his eyes seemed to glow at her. Her heart pounded in her chest and a prickle went down her spine. She turned away, breaking the intense eye contact, stop staring at the couple you pervert, she chided herself. Just as she got her heart rate under control, she heard a loud scream from behind her. She turned around as someone wrapped their arms around her. She inhaled the familiar vanilla scent and relaxed.

“Hey, Justine,” she giggled. Justine squeezed her tight and then pulled back, her dark eyes alive with excitement and Christy looked her over. Where Taylor was the loud, sarcastic, porcelain redhead, Justine was the opposite. She was a calm, composed, and sweet Latina beauty.

“Hola, Chica! How are you? I’ve missed your stunning face.” Justine cupped her cheeks, her smoky voice washing over Christy, instantly relaxing her. This woman could read the damn dictionary and it would sound sexy.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks, all things considered.” A lump formed in Christy’s throat. Justine flinched and put her arms around Christy, hugging her tightly again. Christy hugged her back, and after a moment, Taylor’s arms came around them both from behind. They murmured their condolences in her ears and then they all collected themselves and broke apart. Taylor went back behind the bar and Justine perched on a stool next to Christy and it was like nothing had happened.

“So, how long are you in town for?” Justine asked, grabbing the shot of patrón that Taylor had poured her and drinking it in one go. Christy sipped her cocktail, wincing slightly at how strong Taylor made it, that woman is a menace with alcohol.

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of weeks? Just long enough for the funeral, which I need to finish planning and to clear the house now that it’s listed.”

Taylor poured Justine another shot of tequila and raised her eyebrows at Christy, glancing back and forth between her and her cocktail. Christy rolled her eyes and brought the drink to her lips, pausing before taking a big gulp.

“See I’m drinking it-” she started, but was cut off.

“’Scuse me little lady,” a deep, southern voice interrupted. A man squeezed himself between Christy and Justine, his big body knocking Christy to the side. She squealed and tipped back, fumbling for the bronzed railing to keep from falling off her wobbling barstool. When she righted herself, she turned to the man in question, he had his back to her, leaning on the bar talking to Justine.

Christy’s eyes narrowed at the wide expanse of his shoulders which were now blocking her view of her friend. She reached up and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention but as she did, he popped his elbow out resting his hand on his hip, the action batting her hand away. Okay, this guy is rude, barging his way into our conversation, who does he think he is? Blocking her view of Justine with those big, muscular, big, wide, muscular, big shoulders. Damn, he’s got nice shoulders, and back, that shirt pulled tight across them…Christy shook herself.

“Ahem,” she coughed politely, attempting to get his attention. He either didn’t hear her, or he was simply ignoring her, she felt it was most likely the latter as he continued flirting shamelessly with Justine.

“You sure look real good tonight. When are you gonna let me take you out on the town?” he asked, oozing charm in that smoky, southern accent of his. Ugh, do women actually fall for this routine? She thought, rolling her eyes.

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