Timber Creek

She laughed. “Were they arguing about the shoot?”

“Nah, not that.” He shook his head as he took a healthy swig.

“Then what?”

He put the beer on the table with a contented sigh. “You name it. Why vegetarians should be allowed to eat bacon. Why the valley isn’t really LA. Why Battlestar Galactica is superior to Star Trek.”

“Duh,” she said distractedly. She forced herself to focus on Dan instead of watching Eddie stand and lean against the bar. The guy really did have a great ass. Did he do regular squats or was that all from skiing and hiking? Too bad it was attached to him—total waste.

Focus. She’d been saying something. Gathering her wits, she took a long pull of that beer, not really tasting it. “Though I have to agree about the other thing. Who doesn’t want to be a baconatarian?” She laughed at her own comment, but it came out too brightly, even to her own ears.

Then Eddie’s laugh rose above the tavern din. His energy seemed to pull at the entire room, till her chest felt tight from it. She rubbed her arms, wiping away the memory of his touch.

She felt him make his way to the end of the bar, chat with Bear, grab his own beer. Generally making himself at home—in her workplace. Why did she feel him like this? Feel him move through the room as though they were tied together by an invisible string?

It made her want to flirt—with Dan. She reached across the table and tugged at his sleeve. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Dan met her eyes and held them a second longer than average. “Me? What about you? Is this temporary?” He glanced around the bar, lingering on the deer head over the fireplace. “Some sort of punishment, maybe?”

She gave him a playful shove. “Shut up.”

“She tells you to shut up, too, huh?” Eddie had come over, practically casting a shadow over the entire table.

Dan grinned and asked her, “You’ve had this habit since childhood?”

Eddie pulled up a chair. “Since kindergarten, to be exact. Mind if I join you?” He’d directed the question to Dan, not her.

She glowered up at him. “Sorry, we’re busy—”

“Not at all,” Dan said eagerly. He introduced himself and scooted over to make room at the table. “Sorry, Laura, but I’ve got to hear the dirt.” He turned his full attention to Eddie. “So she was a little hellion even as a five-year-old?”

Eddie’s laugh was rolling. “Never heard it put that way, but yeah.” He took a swig of his beer, and when he spoke again, Laura detected the slightest tightness in his voice. “She was a hellion all right. Still is.” There’d been something off in how he’d said it, and an odd pause followed, but then he spoke again, his tone so easy, she wondered if she’d imagined the rest. “So, how do you guys know each other?”

Eddie had inserted himself into their conversation. She didn’t want him there, but a part of her didn’t want him to go, either. It was almost like she wanted to see him, but she wanted him to see her, too, with Dan. It was a jumble of adolescent impulses, and it gave her the inexplicable urge to be cruel—to make it clear that they were from two different worlds, and he was currently intruding on hers.

“Dan directed a webisode for us,” she said blithely. “Ages ago.”

“Back when they called that crap webisodes,” Dan said, and she shared a knowing laugh with him.

“Webisode?” Eddie asked.

“I worked for an Internet company that did online reviews,” she said in an impatient voice. “Each episode was called a webisode.” She turned to Dan, effectively shutting Eddie out and ending that conversation. “What’s the plan for the shoot?”

“I thought we’d start out by getting some B-roll,” he said, switching into producer mode. “Scout some locations, that sort of thing.”

“How can I help?” She couldn’t wait to get to it. It’d been so long since she’d been engaged in any sort of professional endeavor that didn’t involve clean linens or electric bills.

“We need a place we can set up a small studio. Something soundproof.”

She nodded. “I know exactly the spot. There’s a room upstairs—too small to be a guest room—you can do pickups there.”

“Pickups?” Eddie grinned, trying to insert himself again. “Can I come around for a pickup?”

She glared at him—he would have to turn it sexual. “Is everything an innuendo with you?”

“Only where you’re concerned.” He winked.

“I meant audio pickups.” How was it he always managed to throw her off stride? Terrified that she was blushing, she had to look away as she added in a tight voice, “We’re talking about recording audio.”

“Dude, I thought it was a good one.” Dan clinked his bottle with Eddie’s. “And anyway, I don’t want to talk shop yet.” He twisted in his seat, studying the array of pictures on the far wall—vintage signs with sayings about bounty and friendship, and old print ads for things like Kiltie Brand Lemons. They were all bordered with matching blue gingham mats that’d already been faded by the sun back when she was a kid. She’d been meaning to renovate them…right into the Dumpster.

Dan’s voice brought her back into the present, saying, “I want to hear about this place. Why are you here?”

She bristled at his tone. “You make it sound like I’ve moved to Mars.”

“You kind of have.” He saw the pained expression on her face and dialed it back. “Maybe not Mars. Maybe just…the moon. But seriously, your man can’t like this new development very much.”

Eddie exclaimed, “Your man?”

She realized with annoyance how aware of him she’d been, how much she’d felt him sitting there in judgment. She’d refused to meet his eye, so she didn’t know what expression he wore, but she did hear something in his voice. It was disbelief.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” she snapped, then gathered her wits with a quick sip of her beer. It was still mostly full, well on its way to becoming tepid, and she put it down and pushed it away. “He’s not my man. Patrick and I have been over for a while.”

Dan’s eyes goggled. “Oh really?” He jokingly spread his arms like he was yawning, and when he brought down his hands they rested on hers.

Eddie’s gaze flicked to their hands and away again. “Who’s Patrick?” He kept his face a careful blank, and she found herself wishing to see something else there. Jealousy, anger…something.

Dan ignored him and kept his avid attention on her. “Don’t tell me the queen bee is without a drone.”

“Patrick wasn’t a drone,” she said. There wasn’t any aspect of this that she was enjoying.

“Babe, you’re made of honey.” Dan grinned. “Gotta be some drones hiding out somewhere.”

“Who’s Patrick?” Eddie asked again, sharply this time.

Dan finally emerged from his entrancement to answer, “Her fiancé. The lucky dog.”

“You have a fiancé?” Eddie’s expression remained unreadable.

“Had,” she said sharply, feeling peeved that Eddie had chosen this moment to become so mysterious.

Dan chuckled. “But I can’t imagine a little filly like Lola here flying solo for long.”

“Lola?” Eddie asked wide-eyed, and this time his eyes didn’t budge from hers. What was that look on his face?

Forget Eddie. Who cared what he thought, anyway?

She turned to Dan instead, giving him a withering look. “I hate when you call me that.”

“It’s a nickname from her wilder days,” Dan explained.

“It’s not a nickname if you were the only one who used it.”

“Laura was wild?” Eddie gave her a slow appreciative assessment—his expression had suddenly become readable, and she didn’t like it one bit. “I’d have liked to see that.”

She was one second away from leaving these two to themselves. She slid her hands out from under Dan’s and braced herself on the table like she might spring up. “Well, this has been fun,” she said in a voice thick with sarcasm.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing.” Dan patted her arm. He probably felt how stiffly she held herself because he snatched her fist in his hands, prying it open to give her an affectionate jiggle and squeeze. “I’m just psyched to see you, and I guess it’s bringing out my inner twelve-year-old. I’ve thought about this day, Laura.”

“You have?” She was dying to sneak a glimpse at Eddie.

“Oh, once or twice,” Dan said, playfully playing it down. “I’ve missed you.”

That was it. She had to peek at Eddie. His eyes were waiting for her, staring, smoldering, a vivid, crystalline blue. His jaw was clenched. She glanced away quickly, unable to hold that look.

“I always wondered where you ended up,” Dan continued, “what you were up to, what it’d be like to run into you again. Although,” he added with a laugh, “I must say, I imagined reuniting in LA, or New York. Chicago maybe. But here we are…in the middle of nowhere.” He looked up at the boar head looming high over the table and barked out a laugh. “It’s awesome.”

“Totally awesome,” Eddie said flatly.

Shut up, she mouthed at him.

“Seriously,” Dan continued, unaware of the exchange. “I bet you don’t exactly get a lot of film crews out here.”

Eddie nodded in mock amazement. “How will us country folk handle the excitement?”

“Shut up.” And this time she’d said it aloud, scooting her chair back as she did, springing up. “I need some water.” Mostly she needed to get away from both of these men.

Dan’s eyes lit. “Please tell me your water comes from a well. Or is pumped from a mountain spring or something.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">