wedding. If I skip his bachelor party . . .”
“Then he still gets your business and . . . what? I don’t see a downside.”
“It’s . . . rude.”
Disappointment rippled through her emerald eyes. “And Dawson King is anything but rude.”
My jaw tightened. “I’m not stooping to his level.” To Bristol, I must look like a spineless ass. I tried to clarify. “I have to do business with him, Bristol. I don’t want to call him up about a claim and hear about how I skipped both his wedding and bachelor party for a half an hour. Then he’ll tell the whole office and we’ll have a good laugh and he’ll try to guilt me into higher premiums.” I’d seen him do it to others. Clients would agree to anything to get him to shut up. Hell, I’d done it myself. It was why my deductible was so low when I could afford to pay for a higher one. “Look, if I play nice now, it saves me a helluva headache in the future.”
She studied him. “Why not switch somewhere else? My insurance company is online.”
“Support local.”
“What about when local doesn’t support you?” Her question rang with curiosity. “He’s purposely screwing you over.”
I had no argument. Our experiences in King’s Creek were different. The locals supported me and I tried to do the same. “Can we just grab a bite?” My question snapped out harsher than intended. This night couldn’t be over with fast enough. I hadn’t wanted a repeat of Hogan’s but this time I felt like I was the one ruining it.
Her expression blanked. “Sure.”
How could I save this night?
As we went to the table, I nodded at a couple more guys sitting around Jamie. Broden Haggins from the gas station. Shelb Old Rock from the grain elevator. Guys I would’ve liked to talk to on an ordinary night at the bar. Guys who’d probably be decent to Bristol after they got over their shock. Without the bachelor party, tonight would’ve been the night I’d planned.
We stood at the table. I tried leaning against the wall, but the window frame bit into my shoulder. I straightened but then it looked like I was conducting an interview. I scanned the bar, looking for the server Samuel had no problem flagging down.
“She probably won’t be by to take our order.”
“Danika? Why?”
Bristol ran her bottom lip through her teeth. “Because Darren Morrel brushed her off to go out with me seven years ago.”
“But they’re married now.”
“She holds a grudge. I didn’t know he’d been seeing someone or I would’ve steered clear of that drama. Thankfully, nothing but a few beers happened before I figured out she was prone to drama and would fight to the death for Darren.” She lifted a shoulder. “At least she hates me for something other than being shit poor with an ornery dad.”
Danika should brush off her husband, since I’d heard he’d seen a few back seats since saying I do.
Bristol stepped away. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Maybe she’ll come over while I’m gone.”
As she wound her way through the bar, her back straight, her chin high, my hopes for tonight shriveled.
Chapter 12
Bristol
I finished drying my hands under the blow-dryer. The silence of the bathroom seeped into my bones and I let my head fall back. The bar was so loud. Samuel’s yelling had put my nerves on edge. He was an egotistical jackass and his shouting wasn’t aimed at me, but it didn’t mean I liked it.
Taking another look in the mirror, I paused. If someone came in here and saw me checking myself out, I would melt into a pool of embarrassment. This wasn’t me. I never cared if my hair was just right or if my clothing was just so. I barely had enough makeup on to worry about smudging, but I verified everything was in place anyway.
Before I could get busted, I stepped into the hallway. How slow could I walk back to the table that was too close to Samuel’s party?
“Bristol, a word?”
My entire body tensed at that voice behind me and the gotcha tone that went with it. Errol, the owner and manager of The Tap, loomed under the red glow of the exit sign. He’d never cut Pop off. I’d tried talking to him, but he’d claimed Pop was an adult and it was “only business.” It hadn’t mattered if Pop couldn’t see straight enough to hold his pickup key, Errol had kept pouring.
I didn’t spare