Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,18
on with my life?
Bingham smirked every time I served his table, as though he thought he’d won the upper hand, but I tolerated his condescension with a smart-ass smile. He left before the game ended, keeping his gaze on Lula, who avoided him like he was a cat ready to pounce on her.
Lula had something Bingham wanted. But what? Had she left town because of him?
Things slowed down enough that Max went back to his office, leaving Ruth behind the bar. I was getting a fourth refill for a man who looked like he had no business driving home when Ruth pinned me with her scrutinizing gaze. “What the hell happened with Bingham?”
“He tried to intimidate me, and I made sure he knew it wouldn’t work.”
She shook her head, her lips pursed. “Just because you got away from his clutches last time, doesn’t mean you’re safe, girl. Just leave that man be.”
“I’ll leave him be when he does the same for me.” I lowered my voice. “Did he have something goin’ on with Lula?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “What?” But then she shrugged. “Actually, I don’t know. The whole time she’s been here, she’s never once shared who she’s sleepin’ with.”
“How long has she worked here?”
“About a year and a half.”
I frowned. “Bingham was watching her like a hawk tonight, and she was downright nervous. Max blew it off, but something’s goin’ on.”
“I’d tell you to ask her, but she’s buttoned up tighter than a drum about her personal life. She’s friendly and definitely a sweetheart once you get past all the irresponsibility, but she rarely shares anything of any depth.”
“But neither do I,” I countered.
“You’ve been here all of a month,” Ruth said with a groan. “And you share a hell of a lot more than she does. I know you’re slowly changin’ Hank’s diet—the fact that he’s falling for it floors me. I know you’re still takin’ care of his wound and takin’ him to his doctor’s appointments. I know what you bought when you went to Target in Greeneville last week. And I know you’re dating Wyatt Drummond, and the two of you had an argument that sent him packin’.” She leaned closer. “Yeah, I know you have a past you don’t talk about, but I don’t give a shit about any of that. We’ve all got our secrets, but you’re sharing your real life with me. The here and now, just like I’m sharing mine with you. Even the stuff I don’t share with anyone else. She shares nothin’.”
Maybe Ruth was right, but I didn’t think I could just let this go. I knew anxious when I saw it—I’d spent a good two months staring at it in the mirror.
About a half hour before midnight, Max went up to his apartment, leaving the rest of us to close up. Things had settled down enough that Lula and I sat at a table by the front window and sorted out our tips. She glanced outside and frowned. “It’s snowin’.”
I turned to look out and saw fat flakes falling from the sky. “I have to bring Hank to Greeneville tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t get bad.”
Anywhere else, I would have checked the weather app on my phone, but I didn’t have cell service up here. I felt completely out of touch with the world.
“Ruth,” I called out. “Do you know the forecast for tonight and tomorrow? It’s snowing.”
“Nope.” But she changed the TV to the Weather Channel. Max’s Tavern was one of the few places in town that had cable TV, and I was pretty sure that Bart Drummond had something to do with that since he’d owned the place up until Max took over from Wyatt. One of Max’s conditions for leaving college to take over the tavern had been a transfer of the title to his name.
“You worried about tomorrow?” she asked, making her way over to us, holding a glass of water.
“Yeah,” I said with a frown. “I’m used to drivin’ in the snow, but not on mountain roads.”
She gave me an inquisitive glance, likely because my cover story was that I’d lived in Atlanta for the last decade after moving from Michigan, which covered the snow comment. Truth was, I’d gained the driving experience while going to college and graduate school in the upper East Coast.
“I can call Franklin and ask him,” she said. “He pays attention to that sort of thing, what with workin’ on the roads. He needs to know what to wear