ahead was Lakeshore Drive, the winding road that hugged the shore and was populated with homes. To his left was the main road that would take him back out of town. And behind him, the way back to Blue Sky Air.
Screw it.
If this town didn’t have a bar, he’d find a place that did. He wasn’t about to show back up at Jenny’s house too early. He wanted to make damn sure she and the kid were fast asleep when he returned.
Gunning the bike, he turned left and roared out of town. Less than half a mile out, a break in the trees caught his attention. Slowing, he turned off the main road and into a large gravel lot lit up by a handful of Mercury vapor lights. On three sides, tall evergreens surrounded a parking lot. A huge structure took up nearly three-quarters of the cleared space. The aged siding told him the building had been around for quite some time, but it had been well-kept.
There wasn’t a neon light in sight or even a Buds and Suds. The only name he saw was a crude, white hand-painted sign that read: The Sawmill. On any other night, Jared would have turned around and left. But in this town, with the parking lot packed, the doors open, and twangy country music spilling out, Jared knew he had found Hidden Lake’s one and only bar.
After angling into a parking spot, he pushed down the kickstand with his boot heel and swung his leg over the bike. Without the rumble of the v-twin engine, the music was even louder. He made his way up the wide wooden steps to the open door.
Only in Hidden Lake would a tavern be called the Sawmill. But then, the more Jared looked around, he got it. The Sawmill had obviously once been part of a working lumber mill.
The vast interior was constructed almost solely of wood. Huge clear-cut cedar beams stretched from one side to the other. Thick wide planks covered the floor. Under the bar’s lights, they glowed with a soft sheen from years of use. In the center, an enormous U-shaped bar was in full swing, as were the pool tables off to the right and the dance floor to the left. As he stared at all the couples crowded on the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to dance with Jenny, to wrap his arms around her and pull her tightly to him, until all her soft curves were pressed against him. He wondered if it would be as good as he imagined and then knew it would be better. A hell of a lot better.
He jerked his gaze away.
Even with all the activity and noise, people began to note his arrival. Jared walked toward the crowded bar unfazed by the attention. With his military lifestyle, he was always the stranger rather than the regular. Finding an open spot at the bar, he waited.
It took only a moment for the bartender to make his way over. A white apron was tied around the large man’s belly, and the overhead lights gleamed off his bald head. When he spoke, Jared couldn’t help but think that his thick black mustache looked like a caterpillar. “What can I get ya?”
“Anything on tap.”
“Bud?”
“Works for me.”
The bartender disappeared and then was back with a large frosted glass foaming with beer. Jared dug out his wallet, but the bartender waved him off.
“Aren’t you that new partner of Jenny’s?”
Nothing like the small-town gossip mill. “Short sentence only.”
The bartender barked out a laugh. “Then this one is on the house.”
“Thanks.”
The bartender moved on, and Jared made his way through the crowd. Toward the far end of the dance floor, he found an empty booth near a propped-open door. The fresh air felt good, and the open door helped diffuse the god-awful music. Why did every tavern—no matter what continent he was on—think country music was the only thing people wanted to hear?
Back in the far corner, the lights weren’t quite as bright, and the high-backed booth afforded him some privacy. For the first time since leaving Jenny’s, he began to relax.
He took a long drink and leaned back against the red vinyl. He tried to tune out the whiny song about somebody being done wrong or some such crap, but the more he ignored it, the more his own thoughts pushed through.