Page 44 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

She smiled just as a man walked up to the bar to order a pitcher of beer.

This entire place was relaxed. The Lark Cove Bar was maybe my favorite place in the entire town. It was unique because of its owners and their flair for charm.

Compared to most bars in the city, it was actually kind of dingy—but in a good way. The bar itself ran in a long L along the back and side walls. The booths by the front windows had been beaten and battered from years of use. The pool table had been re-covered recently, but the legs showed where it had been kicked or scratched throughout the years. There was even a legitimate jukebox that played country music so twangy it was like stepping back in time forty years.

The high ceilings were open, and the iron beams running from one side to the other were exposed. It had a rustic, industrial look, thanks to the scuffed wooden floors and the walls paneled to match. The barstools were all different, and the one I was sitting on wobbled slightly to the right.

Shelves of liquor were loaded against a mirror that stretched along the back wall behind the bar. The footrail my purse was sitting on had visible grooves from people resting their feet in the same place, year after year.

The walls were covered in neon and metal signs as well as numerous framed pictures. My first visit here, I’d spent almost thirty minutes inspecting them all. It was like staring at a living timeline, one that had been started by the original owners and continued by their daughter, Hazel, when she’d taken over the bar.

And now, this place was run by Thea and Jackson—Hazel’s children for all intents and purposes. She wasn’t their biological mother, but she’d been their role model for so long, they looked to her like a parent. And though they weren’t related either, Thea and Jackson were basically siblings.

At least, they argued like brother and sister.

Being around them made me miss my own family, especially my younger brother Owen. The two of us had grown apart, like adult siblings do, but as a kid, he’d been my best friend.

I made a mental note to call him tomorrow. Then I added my parents and grandparents to my call roster too. Maybe if I was better about calling my family, the physical distance between us would seem like less than thousands of miles.

I’d go home to visit. Eventually. But not until Adam had more time to come to terms with our divorce.

What would he think of this place? I laughed to myself, picturing his look of horror.

Adam and I ran with a certain crowd of friends in New York, none of whom would be caught dead in the Lark Cove Bar. Our evenings out had always been spent in the same type of establishments. They were all clean and upscale. They were all on the cusp of the latest trends.

We went to the bars and restaurants so Adam could be seen.

But the Lark Cove Bar wasn’t about being seen. It was about seeing people and friends and neighbors. This place was as much of a cornerstone of this community as the Statue of Liberty was a symbol of America.

Every time I came here, I noticed something new. That was just how much stuff was crammed into the nooks and crannies. My eyes snagged on a set of antlers in one far corner off to the side of a large flat-screen TV. A bunch of trucker hats hung from its horns and at the very back, I could make out a scrap of lace.

“Oh my god.” I choked on my peanut, coughing and hacking. I grabbed a swig of my beer, chasing down the bite that had tried to murder me. My eyes were watering as I looked at Thea and then back at the antlers. “Is that a bra?”

Thea and Jackson both laughed, then shared a look before Jackson jumped in to explain.

“There was this woman in here about five or six years ago who was coming on to me,” Jackson said.

“This should be enlightening,” Willa muttered from the stool at my side.

“Come on, babe.” Jackson came down the bar, leaning across it to give her a soft kiss. “Don’t get jealous.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her smile. With her delicate frame, striking blue eyes and long blond hair hanging in waves to her waist, Willa was more angel than human. Or maybe that was because of how Jackson looked at her.

Thea had told me stories about Jackson, how he’d been a playboy for years. It wasn’t hard to believe since the man was as handsome as his wife was beautiful. He had eyes the color of a cloudless Montana sky and the frame of a star quarterback.

His wicked grin and charismatic personality could have attracted any woman in this bar, but he was all Willa’s. The day he’d noticed the shy woman who’d always had a crush on him was the day all other women stopped existing in his life.

She might grumble at old stories of women hitting on her husband, but we all knew exactly who owned his heart.

Those two were making gaga eyes at each other, so Thea jumped in to continue the story of the bra.

“So this woman was all handsy on Jackson. But he wasn’t paying her any attention.”

Jackson shrugged, still leaning on the bar in front of Willa. “It was a busy night. She was too drunk.”

“Drunk?” Thea scoffed. “That is putting it lightly. We cut her off but she didn’t leave. She just kept hanging around the end of the bar, waiting for Jackson to walk past. Every time he went to clear a table, she’d follow him around and try to grope his ass.”

Sweet, gentle Willa let out a sound that could only be considered a rabid growl.