Page 510 of Summer Heat
Chapter Six
Friday night, Lance walked into the Wild Moose Inn. It was just past nine, and the evening was in full swing. A Bob Seger oldie blasted from the jukebox, and there were couples moving on the small dance floor by the rest room.
He’d arranged to meet his brothers here for a drink, coaxing even reclusive Tyler into an evening on the town. Lance paused just inside the door, looking for them. The place was packed full of men in their best Friday-night jeans, and women in blouses made to show off their attributes to best advantage.
A fist of depression struck him, forcing the air from his lungs. Too much noise. Too many people. He hesitated, wondering if he ought to just turn around and go home. The apartment he’d taken was small and cheerless, without any personal touches thus far, but at least he wouldn’t have to face anyone there.
Then he caught sight of Tamara behind the bar. A nearly audible sense of relief moved through his limbs in a whoosh, and caught; Lance let himself feast on the sight of her.
Somehow she managed to look both friendly and frazzled. Her dark hair was swept up into a loose knot that let wisps fall down her slim white neck. She moved efficiently, retrieving beers, taking money, laughing on time at a joke someone at the bar made.
She saw him. He lifted his chin in greeting, a smile ready on his lips. If Tamara were here, maybe the night wouldn’t be such a trial. But in response to him, her face hardened, grew cold and distant. She returned his greeting with a faint, tight smile and turned her attention back to the man at the counter.
Lance frowned. In the two weeks since he’d last seen her, he’d thought of her often. More often, really, than was comfortable. Women didn’t usually get under his skin, but Tamara seemed to have done just that. He couldn’t stop remembering how comfortable she made him feel. How much at ease.
The kiss had ruined it. He’d known even when he’d done it that it was wrong. Wrong for her, anyway. The memory of that long, chaste press of lips lingered in his memory like golden honey.
Rubbing absently at the ache in his midsection, he spied his brothers way back in a dark corner. Lance joined them. “Are we in hiding back here?”
“Ty got here first,” Jake said with a wry grin, shaking the tumbler of Scotch in his hands.
Ty had braided his pale, long hair, and had even shaved the wheat-colored grizzling of beard from his jaw. “We can move if you want.” He shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. I just didn’t want to have to make conversation with anybody.”
Lance grinned. “You’re a hermit, man.”
“I’m here.” Ty lifted a bottle of Guinness stout and scanned the room as if it were filled with dragons. “Don’t know why you guys couldn’t come up to my place.”
“Tyler, let me tell you something.” Jake slid close and put his arm around Ty. He gestured with one long-fingered hand. “You see that table over there? We call those women. They’re nice and soft, and good for what ails you.”
“Not interested.” Tyler said. His mouth tilted in a faint, derisive smile. “But I’m guessing the blonde wants you bad, Jakey. Such a surprise.”
Lance glanced over his shoulder to see who they were talking about. Not far away was a table of five or six women, not one past twenty-five. A couple of them were very pretty, a couple more not bad. One was quite heavy, and looked hopeful. The blonde Tyler mentioned was about twenty-two, dressed in a city style with a sleek haircut that marked her as one of the rich kids that vacationed up here. She cocked a smile toward them.
“Yeah, Jake, you got her.”
Jake lifted his glass in a toast, and the young woman returned the gesture. Jake said, “Excuse me, boys,” and slid out of the booth.
Lance watched him. Jake’s dark hair was cropped close to his head, and h
is jaw was shadowed with a three-day beard. He wore a pair of jeans and boots, like a rancher, and a simple chambray shirt. The girls at the table visibly straightened at his approach. When he bent over to whisper in the blonde’s ear, she blushed and went to dance with him.
“Damn,” Tyler said. “He’s a dog these days. I bet he’s dated twenty-five different women since he hit town a month ago.” Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “Thought that was your job.”
“I’m too damned tired. Dad left a mess at the company.”
“I’m not surprised. He was feeling pretty bad for about six months before he died. But you know Dad—doctors were for sissies.”
The waitress stopped by and Lance ordered a beer. He looked at Jake, dancing and flirtatiously moving closer to the woman in his arms. In the uneven light from overhead, the gaunt hollows under his eyes and cheekbones were highlighted. “I’m worried about Jake,” Lance said. “I wonder if he ever sleeps.”
“Sure doesn’t look like it.” Tyler shook his head. “I used to hate all that military neatness, but it’s too weird to see him like this.”
“Wonder what happened?”
“Whatever it is, he’s not talking.” He fixed his pale gaze on Jake. “Must have been something big. You know he left the army with only four years to full retirement?”
Lance nodded. “What about you? How are you doing?”
Tyler shrugged. “Same old, same old. I just do what I do.”
