“In retrospect, I should have remembered how much you hate surprises.” Travis squeezes my shoulder, a small smile on his lips.
If he touches me one more time, I’ll scream.
I jerk away. “You’re not listening. It’s over. Goodbye, Travis.”
I spin on my high heels and march out of the building.
Six days until I hightail it out of this hellhole and start my new life.
Until then, The Crusher is going to get herself a drink.
Chapter 2
Jessica
After getting in my car and driving for an hour, I storm into a dive bar off the beaten path located on the corner of Main Street and the road to more exciting places. Rough around the edges, it’s dingy, but the scent of stale beer is barely noticeable, so it’s better than I expected.
Stepping over the threshold from the bright sun into the poorly lit room has my shoulders dropping. Near empty, with only the low hum of ESPN playing on the single TV at the corner of one end of the bar, this is a place for the serious business of drinking.
For sitting in silence and stewing.
I stomp across the tacky linoleum and viciously pull out a stool, sending it screeching across the floor, before slamming my bag on the counter. I open my purse and rummage for my wallet, muttering expletives, while I entertain the most depraved fantasies about murdering Travis.
The first thing I’d do is get my baby sister involved. Hailey writes a best-selling crime series featuring a lethal, badass heroine, so she knows everything about murder and how to get away with it.
We’re each other’s bury-a-body person. She’s obligated to help me.
I smack my hand against the bar in triumph when I locate my wallet from the cavern of my purse. “Ha!”
And that’s when a low, deep voice with the barest hint of something Southern says, “Any chance you’ll settle down in the near future?”
A rush of anticipation races across my skin. Finally, someone I don’t have to be nice to. I snap my head in the direction of the voice, only to get distracted by his face.
It’s not the face I anticipate.
Gorgeous men with midnight eyes and dark hair do not come to out-of-the-way dive bars. That’s not how dive bars work. Dressed in all black, the guy sitting one stool down from me is the type you use to fulfill your kinky fantasies and then leave in the middle of the night while he’s sleeping.
So to find him here is a shock.
The intrigue fades quickly to disinterest. I’m off men. After that last run-in with Travis, I’ve decided it’s best to concentrate on my new life in my new small town with my new job and forget all about the opposite sex.
The only thing the guy next to me has going for him is being so seriously hot he must have an ego the size of Texas, so I don’t have to worry about any compassion.
I give him a scornful curve of my lips. “Let me assure you, this isn’t the time.”
“Is that a no?” Backdropped by the flickering neon Old Style sign, he’s turned in my direction, elbow propped on the counter like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
It’s so nice not to have to concern myself with any fragile feelings. “I am going to do whatever the fuck I want. Understood?”
His lips twitch. “Well now, aren’t you a prickly one?”
I flick my hand in his direction. “Do you mind? I’m having a moment, and you’re getting in the way.”
Instead of a response, his gaze leisurely strolls over my face and body, like it’s his god-given right.
Annoyed, I cross my arms over my chest for no other reason than to obstruct his view. “You can stop checking me out anytime.”
“I see you don’t lack confidence.” He chuckles, and it’s all deep and lazy.