Page 2 of Keeping it Local

“Well, you’ve had some things going on over the last few years,” she answered.

I nodded but didn’t respond.

There were certain things left unsaid. Megan knew about me giving up business school after my dad’s stroke a couple years ago. I didn’t need to rehash it with her. In my twenties—instead of fun parties, learning new things, and meeting new people—I’d been caring for my dad, supporting my mom, and taking a bigger lead in the day-to-day of the business. I never regretted being there for my family, but a part of me always wondered what would have happened if I had gone. What would have been different? What would I have become if I wasn’t in my parents’ shadow?

“What classes are you taking? You said you start this week?” Megan asked.

“Yeah, it’s just a mini session. Less than eight weeks. There’s a finance class, which should be really helpful. Plus, I’m taking a business workshop with my old professor. It’s supposed to have other business owners as part of it, so that should be good too.” Professor Mackey had personally called me about the workshop. I met him a few years back when I got my associate’s, and he still remained a sounding board for me. He knew about some changes I wanted to make and thought it’d be helpful. My mom even pushed me to go when I told her, so here I was.

“That should be good!”

Megan lifted her glass at me, and I clinked her beer bottle with mine as I took a big sip.

“I can’t believe you stayed in that tiny little town for as long as you did.” She shook her head. “I mean, Port St. Clair is small, but nothing compared to where you grew up. Who do you even date in such a small town?”

I laughed. “Good point. Everyone cycles through the same people, it seems. Probably why I dated my high school sweetheart for as long as I did—and continued to do.” Until recently, that was.

“Not that I’m looking for anything serious.” She threw her hands in the air, laughing. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

Catching the eye of someone in the bar, Megan pushed her hair behind her ears and gave a slight wave, looking past where I sat. Following her gaze, I shook my head when I saw a group of men in their mid-twenties being loud and rowdy. The occasion seemed to be a bachelor party or something. I rolled my eyes, laughing.

“You seem to like living in a touristy college town,” I joked to her.

“What’s not to like? New people all the time. The locals stick around, so you have to make sure you don’t shit where you eat. But overall, I like it. Might be a good spot for you to have a little fun.” She raised her eyebrows at me, nodding to the bachelor party.

I just laughed, taking another sip of my beer.

“Just think about it.” She gave a sassy wink before saying hi to a woman who passed our table.

When the band got up on stage and started playing, I was surprised by how good they were. It was a classic-rock cover band, playing a lot of the same stuff that you always heard—Journey, Steve Miller, some Elton John, and some deeper cuts too.

A few of the locals would get up and dance during some of the songs, and I watched Megan thrive in her environment as she hooted and hollered at the band, even getting up to dance with one of the bachelor party crew for a bit.

As much as I fought it, I couldn’t stay seated. I walked out onto the crowded dance floor and swayed my hips, surrounded by the laughing and chatting of people around me. The place was one of those honky-tonks that had old photos on the walls, dollar bills stapled behind the bar, and the permanent musk of beer. Energy ripped through the dance floor, and it was hard not to smile as I twirled myself around.

And almost as if Megan planned it, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I heard a deep voice half-whisper, half-yell into my ear over the music.

“Care to dance?”

My skin prickled, and I whirled around, surprised by the ask, and caught myself staring up at the six-foot-something man in a backward baseball hat wearing a wide grin on his scruffy face. His hair was dark, and his eyes matched. All the blood in my body rushed to my face as I looked at him. The t-shirt he wore tugged across his wide chest, and there was a magnetic pull to him that made no sense.

“Sure,” I said, distracted by his body and almost forgetting he had asked me a question.

He pulled me in, and we swayed together to the classic rock tunes floating through the air. His hands were hot on my hips as he held me close to his body, and my hands found their way to his.

Leaning in and speaking loudly over the music, he said, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Just came into town,” I answered, fully aware of his chest to mine, our hips flush, the heat between us.

“Oh, so just a little vacation then?” he asked, dipping me to one of the songs.

“Something like that.” It was hard not to wear a goofy grin when this guy had all the confidence in the world.

The last time I was pushed around the dance floor was at my cousin’s wedding in Tennessee, where my ex-boyfriend, Michael, had two left feet. In comparison, this guy was smooth. One of the cool guys in high school for sure. Meanwhile, I was the quirky girl trying to impress him and knowing full well his interest wouldn’t last.

“Well, let’s make it worth your time then.” He pulled me in closer and sang along to the music, just an inch from my ear, making every nerve in my body light up at his deep, sultry voice.

We danced for what felt like hours. Him twirling me, dipping me, holding me close, whispering in my ear. Every light touch was electricity. We talked back and forth about everything and yet nothing at all—nothing personal anyway. All I knew about him was that he had been here three years and owned a bunch of rental properties in town. I told him I was in town with a friend and normally lived three hours away in Randall. Those were the only personal details shared, and I was completely okay with that. I wanted to lose myself with him, and the more we talked, the more I figured it could happen.