A New Year's Eve Proposal
Auteur
Kim Findlay
Lezers
19,1K
Hoofdstukken
21
HarlequinCHAPTER ONE
SHE’D BEEN STARING at the glass of soda and ignoring the people in the pub around her for fifteen minutes. At least. Arms crossed and leaning on the bar countertop, she watched the glass like it held the secrets of the universe.
He knew it had been that long because he’d arrived fifteen minutes ago, and she’d already been deep in her staredown with the fizzy liquid. The stool beside her had been the only empty seat in the place when he came in, so he’d sat down and ordered a beer for himself. He tried not to watch her, but it was hard, because she was right there. Staring at her soda.
He hadn’t planned on this stop at the Goat and Barley, but he’d needed to clean up after helping a senior citizen change her tire. Changing the tire hadn’t made a mess, but her Great Dane had managed to lick his face and hands, and he preferred to not wear a layer of dog saliva. It seemed only right to order a drink in return for use of their restroom.
Now he thought he might stay for a bit. It was better than spending the afternoon on his own, and it was New Year’s Eve.
Something about his barstool neighbor pricked his attention. She looked sad. That was obviously not his problem, but it seemed wrong to ignore her distress.
Something jammed into his ribs, and he turned as cold liquid dripped onto his pant leg. He looked up and met the shocked gaze of an older man.
“My apologies. I lost my balance and...”
From the smell, it was Scotch now dripping over his thigh. The man reached forward to rescue the glass from the bar top, and Trevor got a blast of more Scotch.
He wiped at his leg, but it was no use. The whiskey had soaked into his pants.
“I’m sorry. Let me buy you another, um, whatever...”
Trevor’s beer was only half gone. He didn’t want to drink another, since he still had to drive. He shook his head and forced a smile.
“No problem. Accidents happen.”
The man blinked at him for a moment, then his phone buzzed, and he moved a shaky hand to his pocket.
“Rachel? What? I can’t hear—”
The man wandered away, weaving through the crowd, people moving out of his way as he blundered into them.
“Are you okay?”
Trevor turned his attention to the bartender wiping the bar top. He’d taken the spilled glass and was watching for Trevor’s reaction.
“I’m fine.” Trevor glanced over his shoulder. “Is he alright?”
The bartender glanced toward the door, with a frown. “I called someone for him. He’ll be good for now.”
Trevor reminded himself he didn’t know these people, and they could undoubtedly take care of themselves.
The bartender moved away, and Trevor turned to the woman on the stool next to him. She hadn’t moved. She’d ignored the whole incident.
He should just leave her alone, but he was in a strange place on this day of celebration, and he was tired of fixating on his own problems. Some variety would be a distraction, if nothing else.
The only thing that had changed with the woman since he’d arrived was her soda was less fizzy. It would soon be flat.
He was rusty at this, no longer at ease in social interactions. But tonight was about ending the old and starting anew. He could start a conversation. If he could think of something to say.
“Are you breaking up?”
Had he actually said that? He wouldn’t normally do anything like this, but that unwavering stare at the flattening pop was...eerie.
She blinked and looked at him for the first time since he’d sat down next to her.
While she’d been leaning over, a curtain of brown hair had hidden most of her face, and he hadn’t gotten a good look at her. Now frowning hazel-green eyes met his. She had a straight nose, strong jaw and pink lips without makeup.
She raised her eyebrows, and he felt his cheeks warm. He should have kept silent.
“What?”
She’d had to lean toward him to respond, and a whiff of some clean scent, soap perhaps, tickled his nostrils and gave him courage to continue.
He nodded at the drink.
“Are you two breaking up?”
She looked back at the drink, as if it might have changed in the last thirty seconds.
“Am I breaking up?”
This was awkward. He was out of practice and was making a fool of himself. No one could say he didn’t follow through, though.
“With your drink. You’ve been frowning at it since I sat down here.”
A reluctant grin pulled up the corner of her mouth. It added a sparkle to her eyes, and he realized with a jolt that she was pretty. And that maybe he hadn’t completely embarrassed himself.
She turned her gaze back to the glass.
“No, it’s not a breakup. It’s more of...an anniversary.”
It obviously wasn’t a happy anniversary, but he didn’t know her and didn’t want her story. He wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to break into her reverie, but he wasn’t going to pry.
“What about you two?” she asked, looking at the half-empty glass of draft beer in front of him.
She was interested in talking, in spite of what was going on with her and her beverage. He was surprised he wanted to talk to her, as well.
He cocked his head, considering his response, thinking of something light, easy.
“This is what I’d call a blind date.”
Her smile grew, and he felt good. Like he’d accomplished a challenging task.
She lowered her voice to a whisper.
“How’s it going?”
He leaned in, playing the game with her. “Nice, but I don’t think this is the one.”
She nodded, solemnly. “Well, you have to drink a lot of toads before you find your princess.”
A laugh snorted out of him. He hadn’t made a sound like that in...forever.
“You did not just say that. That is the grossest—” he said, shaking his head.
Her lips were pulled between her teeth to prevent her own laugh, but the eyes dancing above them gave her away. “I have three brothers. Gross is their forte.”
Brothers. The smile slipped away from his face.
He didn’t want to talk about family, not now. He felt her gaze on him, but he kept his face turned to his beer.
“You’re not from around here.”
She changed the subject, and he appreciated it. He made sure he had a polite expression on his face when he turned back to her.
“What gave me away?”
He thought he looked like most of the other customers. Sweater and jeans, warm jacket hanging on the back of his seat. Utility boots, whether for working or simply for keeping warm. Once he’d left the outskirts of New York City, the temperature had dropped and kept dropping as he’d driven for hours to get here.
Here being a small town named Carter’s Crossing. He’d signed on for a yearlong project in the hopes of keeping his firm alive so he wouldn’t have to go back to working for someone else.
“I grew up here. Lived in Carter’s Crossing all my life. I know all the locals.”
That must be what it was like in a small town. No anonymity. Presumably, most of the people in this bar were locals, but none of them had come over to see if she was okay. Interesting.
“I’m from New York. The city. I’m not familiar with this part of the state.” He considered his next question. He could call this research. “What’s this place like?”
She seemed to think for a while and then come to some decision. There was a trace of a smile on her face, so he thought the decision was in his favor, and that warmed him. Maybe he hadn’t lost all his social skills over the past two years.
“Do you know anything about small towns?”
He shook his head. He’d been born and raised in New York City. He was accustomed to crowds and lights and the sounds of people all the time. A feeling of hustle even when sitting still.
Her lip quirked on one side, and he found his gaze hooked there. He noticed her lips, their shape and color, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss them.
Whoa. He gave himself a mental slap, met her gaze again and listened to the words coming from that mouth.
“It’s small, which means there are no strangers. It’s great when you want people or when you need help, because everyone gathers around, but it’s more difficult when you want to be alone. And it’s hard to keep secrets.”
Trevor was suddenly aware this woman was on her own by choice, and that the people in this bar, who would all know her, had left her alone because that’s what she wanted. He was intruding. He was still missing some of those social skills.
He leaned back slowly, reluctantly. He felt himself flushing as he realized he was one of those guys convinced a woman on her own needed his company.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
She made an abrupt movement with her hand, as if she was reaching out to touch him, to keep him there beside her. But she stopped it, and her face reddened.
“No, it’s okay. As you might have guessed, this isn’t a happy day. I’m bracing myself to get through it. I appreciate the distraction of talking to someone who doesn’t know and isn’t anxiously asking me how I’m doing.”
He could relate to that. She had no idea how tired he was of the same. Enough that he’d driven out to Carter’s Crossing on New Year’s Eve to take one more look at the place he’d agreed to work, just to be out of the city and away from those sympathetic eyes.
He held her gaze, letting her know he understood. Empathized. Was avoiding his own stuff.
“I’ll promise not to ask you about your business if you promise the same.”
She gave a slight nod and then continued the conversation as if there hadn’t been that break. “Carter’s. It’s a pretty town, for the most part.”
He’d noticed as he’d driven through.
“It was a lumber town until just a couple of years ago. The better-off people lived around the park in their nice Victorian homes. When you cross the train tracks, heading to the mill, you have the places where the workers lived. As the mill had to lay people off, those homes got a little more run-down.”
The buildings in a town said a lot about a place, and he’d been reading Carter’s story on his visits.
“There’s a literal wrong side of the tracks?” He meant it as a joke, but all sign of humor left her face.
“If you judge by money, then yes. And maybe people were a little more likely to break the rules on the poorer side, but it’s only because not having money is one of the things that can limit your choices. I know good people on both sides.”
For some reason, he was upset that he’d been put into the group of people that judged by money. The kind who would consider the worker side of the railroad to be the wrong side. He was mortified he’d leaped to those conclusions and that she’d seen that.
“I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate enough that even though I’ve never exactly been rich, I’ve had choices.”
Until his choices had been taken away. He would guard against that in future. He suspected she might not have had many choices, and that maybe limits had been imposed on her by others.
He didn’t think poverty was her problem. Even though she’d ordered a soft drink and then simply sat looking at it, her clothes were clean, almost new, and good quality. Her skin was clear, and her eyes weren’t shadowed from lack of sleep. There were lines at the corners of her eyes, but her mouth was still positioned for smiling, not pulled down at the corners by endless struggle.
It was something else, and he’d guess it was connected to the anniversary drink in front of her, but he’d promised not to ask. He hadn’t thought he’d want to.
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I didn’t mean to be judgmental. Most of my people live in that part of town, so I may be a little protective of them.”
She had people? “Which side do you live on?”
It was a little pushy. They had an unspoken agreement not to probe too closely, didn’t they?
“Neither, really. My family’s place is just outside of town, so you could say we have a foot on both sides.”
We? Family we or partner we? He hadn’t thought she was with someone. No ring on the fourth finger, no mention of someone before this. It had been a while since he’d been curious about someone else, but talking to this woman kept him from feeling sorry for himself or second-guessing his decision to come to Carter’s Crossing. Knowing about the town and its people would help.
“You’ve never wanted to leave?”
She narrowed her eyes, and he realized he’d touched on something.
“I did once. Maybe I will again someday, but for now, this is where I am.”
He glanced over at the glass of soda and wondered if that was connected to her reason for staying, but again, they weren’t allowed to dig deep.
She talked about leaving, without someone with her. That pleased him. He wanted to keep talking with her.
“Tell me more about Carter’s Crossing. I promise I’ll withhold judgment.”
Her lips twisted as she considered his request.
“Okay, if you’ll tell me about living in the city.”
He held out his hand. “Deal.”
She lifted her hand to shake his, and he noticed hers was rough and calloused, the nails short. This was a woman who worked with her hands. He was so curious, but he ignored the impulse to ask her any questions, as well as the jolt of awareness that skin-on-skin contact provided. Instead, he took his hand back and had another sip of his beer.
He’d promised not to pry.
She sat back in her seat, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “This reminds me of the city mouse and the country mouse. You know, that kids story? Only, I can’t remember the ending. Did the city mouse move to the country or the country mouse to the city?”
He might come to a town like this to work, but his home was in the city, and that wasn’t going to change.
He shrugged. “The country mouse probably stayed in the country and the city mouse in the city.”
She shook her head. “In real life, the country mice tend to end up in the city. Only a few of us stay in the country.”
ANDIE WASN’T SURE what it was about this guy, but talking to him was fun. She wasn’t Andie, business owner, responsible for her family and her employees. She wasn’t poor Andie, reliving the worst day of her life. She was just a woman in a bar, talking to an interesting man.
He was interesting and not just because he was from somewhere else. Not just because she liked his rangy build and the way a lock of dark hair fell over those deep brown eyes framed by tortoiseshell glasses. She felt a connection with him.
He had secrets, wounds he didn’t want to share. She could tell by the way he respected hers. He knew the burden of sympathy, and how it refused to let you forget.
He listened as she told him about Carter’s Crossing, the mill town now trying to reinvent itself as a romance destination. He talked about his experiences in New York. Nothing personal, nothing too revealing, but even those bits did expose glimpses of who he was.
He had respect for people. He had a sense of humor. He didn’t mention friends, and she wondered if he was lonely.
He didn’t mention his family, either. He’d flinched when she’d mentioned her brothers, so she suspected he had family issues. On the other hand, who had a family without some kind of issue? When he described New York City, he often described the buildings as if they were residents, part of the population that made up the city, and she found that fascinating.
Her phone pinged with a text message, and that was the first she became aware of how much time had passed. The pale winter sunlight was gone, leaving the windows dark. It was almost dinnertime, and her mother would be worried about where she was. Of course she would be, on today of all days.
Andie picked up the phone and quickly responded, assuring her mother she was at the Goat and Barley, wasn’t drinking and would leave now. She knew her mother wouldn’t relax until she pulled into the driveway.
She sighed.
She was dreading tonight. She looked up at the man beside her, who was watching her with raised brows. Had he thought of asking her to eat with him? To stay for the evening and see in the New Year?
Andie didn’t do that. New Year’s wasn’t a time to party or celebrate. It hadn’t been for a long time. And she had to leave, now.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
That was disappointment she saw in his eyes, wasn’t it? She told herself it was. That would be her comfort for the rest of the night.
“Thanks for the chat. This is a bad day, and you helped me get through some of it. I hope this new year is good to you.”
He stood as she pulled her coat on and grabbed her bag.
“Thank you. I’ve enjoyed talking to you, too.”
She wondered if he was going to ask her name? Her number? Was there any point, when he was traveling through and she was stuck here?
Her phone rang, this time a call from her brother. She answered it, already edgy as she anticipated his reason for calling. His excuses soon filled her ears.
“Joey, that was your responsibility,” she said, interrupting him. “Can you not do anything I ask you to? I’m supposed to be your boss, not just your sister. Mom is already freaking that I’m late.”
More excuses, more dragging her back to her regular life. The man with the soothing voice had sat down and tactfully turned away to give her privacy.
It was probably for the best anyhow. She had no time for interesting men, even if they were staying in the area. She had responsibilities and decisions and ties, and until she was free of those, she couldn’t be distracted. Maybe one day she’d be able to leave.
She smiled at the stranger who was almost a friend, and he nodded at her before she headed for the exit, winding her way through the people who knew her, cared for her, and who watched her with sympathy and pity.
It had been nice to talk to someone who didn’t know what today was about, but her family needed her now. This night, above all others in the year.
Her brother was supposed to check out all the sites they were working on before he went home, but he’d already had a few to drink and couldn’t drive. Andie was going to need to check out those sites while her mother sat at home worrying about losing another family member.
If only she had someone to help her deal with Joey, some way to get him to grow up and be responsible. She wished there was someone to reassure her mother, to take charge of the company and worry about finances if these romance initiatives didn’t keep Carter’s Crossing alive.
She wished she could be the kind of woman who could meet a strange man in a bar and exchange names and go for dinner and visit New York City.
For now, she just wanted this night over. Maybe some of her wishes would come true this year.
