Normal, all of it… normal.

I was back in a rhythm of life.

Unfortunately that rhythm seemed surrounded by Tate but held no Tate.

That wasn’t true. The two days we had together before Tate left obviously held Tate. He took me to work and worked my shifts with me, giving Bubba and Krystal a break. Surprisingly, nothing dramatic happened during these days except for the fact that Tate took an instant dislike to Twyla; then again Twyla was instantly dislikeable and didn’t mind that one bit considering she honed her instantly dislikeable personality to a razor sharp edge. I’d had to run interference but this wasn’t difficult because Tate seemed in a good mood so, unusually, outside of scowling at her a couple of times, he didn’t let Twyla’s antics get to him.

And Tate and I working together was different when I wasn’t holding a grudge. I had fun with him and he seemed to have fun with me. He liked being with me in the bar and I knew this because he laughed a lot and he smiled a lot too. In fact, I’d never seen him do either so much as in those two days after the Wood Incident.

As for me, I liked going to the bar and saying, “Need two Bud drafts,” and hearing him say softly, “Right, baby,” or, also softly, “You got it, Ace.”

Because of these responses, I found myself hanging at the bar more often, Tate across from me, both of us leaning in and chatting, me trying to be funny just to make him laugh or smile. Me getting a little curl of excitement when I succeeded.

I also found myself ending my orders with “honey”. “A Jack and Coke and a Dewar’s, honey,” or “Four Coors bottles and a Keystone Light, honey.” I found myself doing this because, when I did, I’d always get the smile so I went searching for it.

That smile didn’t give me a curl of excitement. It made me feel something else, something comfortable and settled but very sweet. Even though, if Twyla heard me call Tate “honey”, she’d give me a hard look or roll her eyes – I was guessing Twyla wasn’t a big fan of a waitress sleeping with the boss, that said, as far as I could tell, Twyla wasn’t a big fan of much.

After my shifts, Tate and I left work together and went to the hotel together where Tate would drop me off so I could have a swim and he’d go do stuff, like pick up groceries for dinner while I swam. Then he’d come back to get me. I’d pack more stuff and go to his house with him where he’d make me dinner and then we’d go to bed and make love and then we’d sleep somehow nuzzled together, him holding me or me curled into his back or, as the night progressed, both.

This felt good too. Comfortable. Settled. And definitely sweet.

On my day off, the day Tate had to go hunting, Tate had planned to take me for a ride. We were going to go out and stay out all day on the bike.

It was a bummer he’d been called away because I wanted to do that with him, have a day with him with nothing to do but ride. To be on the back of his bike and feel that freedom only Tate had given me, a freedom I’d only ever felt sitting on the back of his bike, letting go and thinking absolutely nothing at the same time feeling absolutely everything.

And I wanted to go back to work with him behind the bar.

I wanted him to come home.

I wanted him.

I heard the roar of pipes and my head righted and whipped to the end of the lane. A bike was coming up and I felt that curl of a thrill in my belly because Tate hadn’t said he was coming home last night when we talked but he’d surprised me before.

Then I stared because it wasn’t Tate, it was Wood.

“Damn,” I whispered under my breath and watched Wood ride up the drive and stop at the front of the garage.

I got up and walked down the deck as he got off the bike. We met five feet into the deck from the stairs that led to it from the side of the garage.

“Wood,” I greeted hesitantly.

“Laurie,” he greeted back, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses so I couldn’t read them.

“Um…” I mumbled, unsure what to say because I was unsure of why he was there.

Wood wasn’t unsure.

“Neeta’s in town.”

I felt my body get tight.

“Sorry?”

He didn’t repeat himself. Instead he asked, “Deke still playin’ bodyguard?”

“No,” I answered, finding this an odd question. “Why?”

Wood looked at the house then looked at me. “When’s Tate due back?”

“Wood –”

He took a step toward me and, with effort, I held my ground.

He pulled his sunglasses off and shoved an arm in the collar of his t-shirt. When I saw them, I noticed his eyes, as they normally were, were gentle on me.

“Know that ship has sailed, baby,” he assured in his gentle voice. “Now, when’s Tate due back?”

“It’s uncertain,” I replied. “Why?” I repeated.

“She’s heard about you.”

“What?”

“Neeta. That’s why she’s back. She’s heard about you.” He looked at the house again then at me. “You here alone?”

“Wood –”

His hand came up and curled around my neck. “Laurie, I asked, you here alone?”

“Yes, but why –?”

I stopped talking when he quickly dropped his hand from my neck and with somewhat urgent movements dug his phone out of his back pocket. He flipped it open, hit some buttons and then put it to his ear. His eyes locked on mine as he listened to it ring.

Then he said, “Wood,” and he paused. “Don’t be an ass and listen. I’m at your house with Laurie.” Another pause then, “Fuck, Tate, goddamned relax. If you’d listen you’d know I’m doin’ you a f**kin’ favor here. Neeta’s in town.” Silence while Wood’s face got hard then, “Yeah, she knows about Laurie, man, why you think she’s in town? She heard and hightailed it up from CB like a f**kin’ rocket.” He was quiet then, “Yeah, Tate, that’s the gig. Same MO. She heard rumors, held tight, then heard Laurie was out of the hotel and in your house. Now she’s here, same as always.” More silence then quietly, “No, man, Jonas isn’t with her.”

Jonas? Who was Jonas?

Same as always?

And what was with all the drama?

“What’s with all the drama, Wood?” I asked, he lifted a hand, one finger up and then dropped his hand and bent his neck, listening to Tate on the phone.