Page 24 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

So not only had I not noticed her, but I’d also missed the fact that she was interested in me. How was that even possible? Wayne had to be wrong. Willa had never once batted her eyelashes my way, given me a seductive smile or flashed me a cleavage shot. I was good at picking up on subtle hints from women.

Wasn’t I?

So how had I missed Willa’s?

“Are we talking about the same Willa? Long, blond hair. Delicate face. Big blue eyes. That Willa?”

Wayne nodded. “The one and only.”

“Well, if she liked me before, she’s over it now,” I told him as he drank his beer. “I asked her out twice in the last twenty-four hours and got shot down both times.”

He sputtered his beer again. “You’re kidding.”

“I think I pissed her off.”

Wayne started laughing. It began as a slow chuckle that grew and grew until the other patrons in the bar all stopped talking to watch him belly laugh.

“Remind me to start charging you double for beers,” I muttered after he pulled himself together.

“I don’t know what you did,” he wheezed, “but it had to have been bad. Willa is the sweetest girl in Flathead County. How’d you manage to make her angry?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He scoffed.

“Really!” I held up my hands. “I don’t know. I know I’ve slipped a few times and called her Willow. But in my defense, I’ve always sucked at remembering names.”

The only way I remembered a new name was to do what Hazel had taught me in high school. I said a name ten times in my head or I came up with a pneumonic device. But neither trick had helped me get Willa’s right.

“You do suck at names,” Wayne mumbled. “You thought my last name was Brown for the longest time.”

Brown, like the color of his chocolate hair. “I—wait, your last name isn’t Brown?”

“Christ, Jackson.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s Black.”

“Sorry. Damn it,” I huffed. “At least I’m great with faces.”

Bullshit with me for twenty minutes and I’d remember you for years. Tell me your name once and ask me to repeat it weeks later, not happening. Working at the bar suited me perfectly. I recognized repeat customers by their faces and got away with calling them by a generic nickname.

Hey, man.

Good to see you again, sweetheart.

Welcome back, buddy.

No names required and I was still the cool bartender who remembered his patrons.

How was it that I hadn’t really noticed Willa’s face?

“You really don’t know what you did to make Willa mad?” Wayne asked.

“No idea,” I muttered and grabbed a glass. “I need a beer.”

I filled it up, then shut off the tap. I examined the white foam around the rim, but before I brought the glass to my lips, I stepped over to the sink and dumped it out. Just two days ago, I’d made the decision not to drink as often and I sure as hell could go more than one day without a beer.

“So what are you going to do about her?”

Good question. I blew out a long breath. What was I going to do?