Page 24 of Will to Run

We pass all the places on the strip, and the three of them tell me how, in a month, this place will be swarming with people, and how spots like The Rusty Lantern and the other local bar, Sunrise Tavern, will become the cornerstone of sanity. It’s too bad I won’t be around to experience it. When it looks like we’re past everything on Millstone Avenue, including the art store, Jaxon turns right and drives three blocks. It’s wild how things have shifted from fancy tourist places to what I stereotyped this place to be; tumbleweeds have to live in this part of town.

Pulling up to a dark, run-down establishment, a few neon signs in the window cut through the darkness. I’m confident I would never walk into a place that looked like this by myself.

But as soon as we are through the door, everything feels different. I wonder if the run-down look is intentional to keep the tourists away. It still screams dive bar, but not murder bar, so that’s good. The crack of pool balls crashing into each other, and the laughter of people who know each other fill my ears. Heads turn when we walk in, and the three of them do some glad-handing as we make our way to an open table. It feels like everyone is staring at me, and I bet to some degree they are. I don’t think I look too out of place, but maybe they can just tell.

Jaxon reads me like a book, pulling me in by the waist and putting his mouth by my ear so I can hear him clearly. “Everyone is staring because they’re wondering who the hot new woman walking in with us is. Because let’s call a spade a spade, you look fucking insane.”

Every sense lights up, including a tingle in a place I thought had died. He smells so good, just like he did yesterday. It’s not something that feels purchased or expensive; it’s like cedarwood and leather, and my gosh, does it do something to me. I know he isn’t trying to tease me… or maybe he is… but feeling his breath skit across my ear sends a shiver down my spine that lands right between my legs.

“Are you sure I look okay?” partly because I’m unsure, and partly because I like how compliments from Jaxon make me feel.

“Della Tatroe from Chicago, you’re a smoke show,” he chuckles at himself. “I could keep rhyming if you want.”

“I’m a little curious,” I say, enjoying the playfulness between us.

“Della Tatroe from Chicago, you’re a smoke show, and I’m glad to have you in tow. You’re someone everyone wants to know. You make everything around you glow. Do you happen to drink Bordeaux?”

The laugh bubbles out of me because Jaxon Wills is just fun. And easy. And flirty. So when everyone moves towards a seat, I make damn sure to sit next to him.

“Cheers to cowgirl Della!” Hazel and Molly say when they return with drinks in the air.

Holding up my vodka soda, I smile and clink the glasses of the people who have made me feel welcome without exception.

14

JAXON

Because I’m the driver, I’m taking it easy tonight, and that means I’m sober enough to pick up on all the eyes that are staring at our table. This is a local bar, and since the non-touristy town of Amberheart isn’t big; we all know each other. I’m wondering who will be the first to approach us to find out about our new guest.

It’s my freaking brother.

After the girls are into their second drink, Everest appears at the table.

“What the fuck, Ev,” I say in equal parts surprise and agitation. For the second day in a row, he just can’t stay away.

“Hello, everyone,” he says, with an annoying smile on his face. “Hazie told me there was a party at The Lantern, and I couldn’t say no. Good to see you, Della.”

“Hi,” she squeals, indicating that she might be as much of a lightweight as my sister. Molly can hold her shit, but Hazel most definitely cannot.

But then I remember that this wasn’t supposed to be a drinking adventure, not at first, at least. I told her not to eat because we’d get food. I thought it’d be funny for her to taste the tavern-style pizza they serve up here, but tavern-style is a misnomer. It’s a frozen pizza they heat up for twelve minutes in a pizza oven from 1985 that has decades of burnt cheese caked in. Don’t get me wrong, it is delicious, especially after you put down some drinks, but it has to be far from what she is used to. Although I’m not exactly being fair. I don’t have a bead on what her childhood was like; maybe she grew up eating her share of dive bar food and frozen pizzas.

When I watch the three girls take a shot of something, I put my drink down to take steps to mitigate the alcohol with water and sustenance. Asking Everest to grab bowls of popcorn and peanuts, I go to grab the water and place the pizza order. The last thing Della needs is a raging hangover.

When I return, I set the cups of water down, encouraging her to drink them. She does without argument, but her eyes are glossy, and it tells me she’s at least feeling the alcohol. As she turns to laugh with my sister and Molly, Everest leans over to me.

“She’s pretty, Jax.”

Unsure of how to respond, I side-eye him. “I noticed.”

“Cliff thinks so, too. He hasn’t stopped staring,” he continues, intentionally stirring the pot.

Now I look out into the crowd, and he’s right. Sure enough, Cliff Tolapin is practically drooling. The man makes my bedroom escapades look prudish. Not to mention, I think we’re supposed to be enemies. I don’t particularly hate him, but I know he’s not the best guy. His family owns the other ranch in Amberheart. Ours is exponentially better, but lately they’ve been pulling in lots of business. That is another reason I need my new social hire out here ASAP. They have a stronger, prettier online presence, but Pine Spur Ranch is a bait-and-switch. Though it looks nice in the photos, it’s not great. Regardless, I don’t like or appreciate how he’s looking at Della.

When I bring my eyes back to her, I can’t help but smile. Any guard she had up is down, and she is magnetic as she’s lost in some conversation with the girls. It affords me a chance to take her in piece by piece. I’ve looked at many beautiful women, but Della is hard to put a finger on. Each time I try to tear my gaze away, I find something else to notice. And I know I should look elsewhere, but instead, I find myself memorizing her features. The way her dimple only pops out on her golden skin during a certain smile, or the way she shyly tucks her hair behind her ear. She’s charming to watch. The next time she looks over, she looks with intention, waves a peanut shell at me, licks it, then tosses it over her shoulder, cackling like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever done. I can’t help but shake my head with a quiet laugh.

I don’t know shit about this woman, but something tells me she’s having more fun than she’s had in a long time. I decide I’m going to up the ante. When I stopped at home earlier to change and get my truck, I grabbed a stack of singles that I save for nights like tonight.

“Hey Del, you up for some more authentic experiences?”