Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (11 page)

Several cars and trucks were parked in the small lot and on the street as I walked toward the door. Laughter and rock music wafted on the brisk wind. Pulling the handle, I stopped short at the guy manning the door. He asked for ID and nodded my acceptance once I showed him.

Shrugging out of my coat, I glanced around, impressed. It was even bigger than it looked on the outside and had a nautical theme. Plywood floors with thick dark knots and a giant rope net on the ceiling rafters. Sleek polished wood paneling was made to resemble the interior of a boat, complete with spherical submarine windows along the far wall. Dated maps were framed and mounted between the windows. Most of the tables were high pub and made from old pirate-looking helms with glass tops, though the front wall sported a row of booths. In the back of the room was a small stage with a set of drums and a guitar, however, no one was playing. I counted three waitresses milling around, all wearing a fitted black tee and jeans.

I headed toward the bar to my right, which was three people deep with customers. One stool hugging the end was open and had a reserved sign on it. Interesting. Worming my way up front, I nodded to the guy manning this side of the counter.

And the mountain eyeing me back must be Rock. Jenny had said the guy was huge, and that might’ve been the understatement of the millennium. I nudged six feet, but he had to be easily six-five. His shoulders were wide enough to carry Africa, his arms thick as tires, and under all that muscle, his neck disappeared. His black hair was military short, his face clean-shaven.

Humor lit his very dark eyes as he wiped the counter in front of me. “I’m going to take a gander and say you must be Matt.” His deep timbre rumbled over the rock music.

I jerked my chin in a nod. “I take it you’re Rock? Remind me not to piss you off.”

His face split in a grin, transforming his expression from don’t-mess-with-me to friendly. “You don’t screw with my girl and we’ll be all right.”

I glanced over his shoulder and spotted Jenny on the other side of the bar, back to me. Her long cocoa hair trailed down to mid-spine in loose waves and her skinny jeans showed off her...assets. She wore a black tank top that fit like second skin and knee-high boots that sent my pulse into hyperactive.

Dragging my gaze back to Rock, I offered a half-grin. “I’d never screw with her, whether you were threatening me or not.”

His assessing gaze slid over me, and he nodded in acceptance. “She said I’d like you.” He jabbed a thumb at the reserved stool. “Take a seat. That’s yours.” At my questioning look, he shrugged. “Jen-Jen said you were coming tonight.”

Jen-Jen? Regardless, I straddled the stool.

“What can I get ya?”

I wasn’t much of a drinker. “Whatever you have on tap is fine.”

He strode over to Jenny, bent to say something in her ear, and turned to fill my order.

Jenny whirled, and the floor dropped out from under me. She’d done her eyes in some smoky kind of seduction, her lips a bright red temptation to sin. Her hips sashayed as she made her way over while I tried desperately not to swallow my tongue. Like night and day. I wasn’t used to her all dolled up and looking like a wet dream.

“You came.” She leaned over the counter and kissed my cheek.

“Said I would. What’s with the reserved seat?”

Leaning her hands on the bar, she winked. “You’re VIP, handsome.” Damn, but the swell of her breasts peeking over the top of her shirt took considerable effort not to stare at. “Meet George, Frank, and Henry.” She indicated the three stools to my left. “These are Grampy’s good friends, and my other VIPs. You’ll always have a stool here open for ya.”

Huh. I smiled at the elder gentlemen and shook their hands. In fact, she had quite the eclectic mix of clientele. Young, old, blue-collar, suits, rocker, biker, conservative. Wonder how many fights broke out on average.

Rock slid me a frosted glass and nudged Jenny. “Ten minutes to go.”

She smiled her thanks. “He drinks free tonight.” Then she glanced at me. “Be back in a bit.”

Though I appreciated the sentiment, I didn’t want free drinks. She had a business to run. I pointed to a jar sitting on the edge of the counter filled with change. “Is that for the bartenders?”

“Yep.” Rock filled two whiskey neat orders for a waitress and passed them over. “The girls on the floor collect their own tips.”

Pulling out my wallet, I eyed what I had. Damn, if I put a hundred dollar bill in there, she’d know it was from me. “Can you break this?”

With a knowing grin, Rock took the bill, made change, and handed them back.

I crumpled some, folded others, and shoved them in the jar. “Don’t tell her I did that.”

“Mum’s the word.” He scanned the customers and must’ve seemed satisfied because he leaned his forearms on the bar and stared at me. “She talks about you quite a bit. Good to meet in person after all these years.”

Surprised, I stilled. She’d mentioned me? A lot? “Ditto.” I watched her filling orders and laughing with customers, completely at ease. Her personality seemed quite different here in the tavern than when we hung out. She always had a sassy, sarcastic side, and that appeared amplified at the moment. Flirty and boisterous with a megawatt smile. Her generous, soft, kindhearted elements must be in the backseat. A front? Or maybe this was the real her. “Thanks for watching out for her. It means a lot to me.”

A slow head tilt. “She’s something special. No hardship.”

Jenny had denied a romantic thing between her and Rock, but there was an obvious affection between them.

He must’ve read my expression or my mind because his leisurely grin was all-knowing. “We’ve never hooked up. Don’t plan to either. It’s not like that.”

I took a sip of beer. “I didn’t ask.”

Straightening, he laughed. “Sure you did.” Before I could respond, he strode over to Jenny and, without any effort, lifted her under the arms and set her on his shoulders. He grabbed her calves dangling over his chest to steady her. “Good to go.”

For the third time in a short span, I was taken back by their comfortable camaraderie. Aside from me and perhaps Ian, Jenny didn’t loosen up around others easily.

Jenny brought her fingers to her mouth and let out a piercing whistle that quieted the room. “Open mic. Who’s first?”

Rock cut the sound system with a switch under the bar while she spoke.

As patrons called out numbers, which I didn’t comprehend, she seemed to tally in her head and pointed as if it were a confirmation bid.

Rock passed her a pad of paper and a pen. She wrote some crap down.

“Gotcha.” She grinned at the crowd. “We got Deiter with two, Hoyt with one, Jezzie with three, Gator with five—“ She scratched her head. “You sure on five, Gator?”

“Yessum,” came a call from a rear table.

“You got it. Okay, and then Ollie with two. We good?”

Cheers rang out and glasses clinked while I sat in confusion.

“Deiter, warm up.” She tapped Rock to set her down, which he did, and she switched the sound system back on.

A chubby bald guy wearing construction gear climbed on the small stage.

Jenny made her way over to me and pushed the hair away from her face. “You picked a good night to come your first time.”

I took in her flushed cheeks and wanted to haul her against me, make her flush for entirely different reasons. Christ, she was gorgeous. And seriously. What was wrong with me? Damn it. Get a grip. “What was that all about? The numbers?”

She shrugged. “How many songs they’ll sing. Friday night is open mic night. The customers love it. We have quite a few talents among us. Blows off steam, too.”

“Jen-Jen. He’s set.” Rock kicked a chair over to her and cut the sound system.

Which reminded me. “Jen-Jen?”

“Grampy’s nickname for me. No one calls me Jenny but the Seasmoke crew.” She glanced at Rock, then the stage. Using the chair as a step, she climbed on the bar top with the grace of a cougar and walked the length as catcalls rang out. “Y’all ready?” She laughed at the cheers. “Give it up for Deiter!”

Deiter strung a couple notes on a guitar and smiled as the crowd chanted his name. After a moment, the room quieted and the guy on stage began playing.

Jenny hopped down and moved the chair away. “All the songs have to be original to take stage here on Friday nights. Tuesdays we do karaoke. You want something to eat?” She dropped behind the counter and emerged with a long laminated card.

I glanced over the short menu. All bar food. Fried shrimp basket, chicken fingers, wings, loaded fries, shredded onion rings, and mozzarella sticks. I ordered the latter to be polite and tuned into the music when she headed to the kitchen.

This Deiter guy wasn’t half bad. A little twangy, and country wasn’t my thing, but his voice was pleasant. I missed most of his first song, but the second was about chasing love and storms.

I ate my mozzarella sticks and chatted with her grandfather’s friends while she introduced the next three musicians. By the time I finished my beer, the Gator fellow was on his fifth of five songs. He did a rock set that reminded me a little of Matchbox Twenty. Not bad.

“Hey!” Jenny grinned over my shoulder, and I turned to find a curvy blonde behind me. Early thirties, maybe. Pretty. She had her hair tied up in a severe ponytail and her makeup was light. She wore black leggings and a blue sweater just shades darker than her eyes. Her resemblance to Summer was a little uncanny. “Someone make room,” Jenny ordered.

I was hopping down to do so anyway when George shook his head. “I’m headed out. You take my seat, honey.” The old man lumbered from his stool and dropped a firm hand on my shoulder. “Nice to meet you, son. See you next week?”

“I’ll be here.”

Jenny gave George a kiss on his cheek as the blonde sat down. The scent of her rose perfume swirled in the air. “Amber, this is my good friend Matt.”

I offered a polite smile and shook her hand. “Pleasure.” Her grip was soft and a little weak.

“Haven’t seen you in a couple weeks.” Without being asked, Jenny set a cola in front of Amber. “How’s your mom?”

Amber, gaze cast down, toyed with the straw in her drink. “She passed away on Monday.”

“Oh.” Leaning over the bar, Jenny grabbed the newcomer’s shoulders. “Oh, Amber. I’m so sorry.”

Trying to remain invisible, I stayed quiet to give them a moment.

“Thank you. I’m just glad it happened when it did. You know, before the new job and all.” Amber blew out a gusty sigh. “Am I awful for being grateful she’s home in Heaven now? That the nightmare’s over?”

“No,” Jenny affirmed with conviction, taking the woman’s hands and squeezing. “Not at all.” Jenny studied her for a beat. “My first song tonight goes to your mama.” Jenny poured them each a shot of bourbon and clinked glasses. “To Maude.”

“To Mama.”

After a little more conversation, Jenny strode away to take care of some customers, and I faced the blonde. “I overheard. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Her smile was sad. Sweet. “Thank you. She was sick a long time. That’s how I met Jen-Jen, actually. We were part of the same family with Alzheimers support group. Of course, Jen-Jen runs the group now.”

“Really?” She never mentioned it to me. Or that she was in a support group. I was beginning to wonder if I knew her at all.

Amber took a leisurely sip of cola. “Yes. She took over about four or five years ago when our leader moved to Arizona. I don’t know how she found the time to do the accreditation to mentor. She’s been a Godsend.”

I glanced at Jenny while she chatted up customers, laughing at jokes. She truly was a Godsend. I’d known her many years, but it seemed there was a lot I still had yet to learn. Unease twisted my insides and I couldn’t fathom why, but I had the inherent sensation she was two different people. I wondered how much of the time we’d spent together was real.

“Anyway, how do you know our girl?”

Smiling at the memory, I returned my focus to Amber. “We met as teenagers, been friends a long time.”

“Get out. Wait...” She brushed a strand of golden hair away from her face. “Are you Matt Holcomb?”

“It appears I’m infamous.” Honestly, it was a little unnerving how everyone seemed to know me. Just how much had she referred to me through the years?

“Well, we know of you, of course. She mentions you often. But I didn’t connect the dots right away. I’ll be working at the firm with you. I’m the bank lead.”

That’s right. Amber Tinsley. I recognized her name from my files. I was set to be the project head and she’d be supervising the fund accounts. Together, we’d be overseeing staff and managing the office. Her and I had a meeting set for before business hours on Monday to get things squared away. “Small world. Great to meet you.” Indeed.

“You, too.” Her grin brightened. She was very pretty in a non-obvious way.

We talked a little business, and it was great to meet one of my colleagues ahead of time. It sure got awkward introductions out of the way. She seemed really smart and on the ball, plus she was easy to talk to. Her sense of humor was a little dry, but her mother had just passed, so she had other things on her mind, I’m sure.

The crowd started chanting Jen-Jen, and I flicked my glance to the stage where Jenny stood at the mic, guitar in hand. She talked to the audience a bit, praising the previous artists before her.