Capturing Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,24

and there’s a stack of clothes on the seat. Jeans, boots, socks, underwear, a white t-shirt, a green sweater and a brown corduroy coat.

“Oh, Bruce, you outdid yourself. Fuck it. I don’t need these anymore.” Glancing around the deserted dirt road, I slide my underwear off and put on the fresh pair. The shoes go, too. And the socks. I want nothing on me that reminds me of that place.

But now what to do with them? Do I dare ditch them in some trash bin? I’ve seen too many episodes of C.S.I. to be that stupid. Running over to a dirt stretch that doesn’t look too hardened by the sun, I start digging with my fingers. Soon I’m sticking the prison clothes in a shallow hole and covering it up, reaching for leaves and branches to hide what I did.

“There. That oughta do it.” Smiling a real smile for the first time in months, I run back to the car and drive away.

Now to get to what I came out to do. I’m not looking forward to it, but it’s gotta be done. I’ll never sleep again if I don’t take care of this once and for all.

Chapter Twenty-One

Annie

Baby bellies are great for tips, bad for patience.

Barb’s ample, leathery cleavage spills over a gypsy-style blouse as she leans into the bar counter to gleefully whisper, “Ice Queen has left the building! I told you she’d drink white wine! Am I good or am I good?”

I glance over, hoping said Ice Queen didn’t hear that, but the front door of Le Barré has mercifully shut behind that particular female customer and her not so happy date. There’s only one couple left now, plus Barb. But she’ll stay until after we’ve closed, no doubt about that.

Topping off the elegant glass with more Pinot Grigio, I give her an unconvinced look. “Barb, you’re drinking white. Are you an ice queen? And I like white wine. What does that make me?”

Momentarily stuck, she sucks on the insides of her mouth, thinking about how to prove her point. She unsticks as an idea hits her, her penciled-in eyebrows wagging happily. “Yes, but she asked for ice in hers! A-HA! I am never wrong!” She grabs onto the counter so fast that her bracelets jangle as she demands, “Admit it!”

Barb is my favorite regular and she takes great pride in predicting the cocktail a person will drink as soon as they enter my chic little lounge bar on Mission Street. Ever since Le Barré opened, Barb’s been a regular fixture, always sitting on the street-side end of the bar. When I was just getting started and business wasn’t great, she never failed to show up and make me smile. I will always treasure her for that, even if she does wear on my patience on occasion.

I set the bottle down nearby and tighten my heavy ponytail. “Well…she did ask for ice, and it is cold outside tonight.”

A manicured finger stretches toward me with brown eyes dancing behind it. “Exactly! She loves the cold because she is the cold.”

I cock my head to the side. “Okay, let’s have a little Christmas spirit. It didn’t look like her date went very well.” Barb’s eyes lose their sparkle and her smile falls, which kills me. I sigh inwardly and choose my loyalty, leaning forward to whisper, “But really, who wants to date an ice queen?” The sparkle springs back and she whoops loudly, followed by a gregarious laugh.

Glancing to movement in my periphery, I spot the last customers getting up from a booth on the far wall readying to leave. Those two have been sitting very close to each other all night, something I love to see. As he slides on her coat for her, then leans down and kisses her, I turn back to Barb with a different kind of smile, the kind that misses my husband.

Barb takes a generous sip of her wine and points to my ridiculously large stomach. “Your Momma’s one of the good ones, kid.”

I shake my head, holding onto my belly, feeling the taut rim of my pregnancy jeans under my extra large, black t-shirt. “Jacob, don’t listen to her. Your mommy’s a little rough around the edges. Barb, you should have seen how I got our Christmas tree!”

Chuckling, I leave that story hanging in the air as I walk over to ring up the lovebirds, my steps slower than they were earlier tonight. I’m feeling tired this close to closing time. Pushing