Rachel Van Dyken Read Online Free Page B

couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. “I… I…” he stammered. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her about the telegram, about his father, his life story even, but he couldn’t. She was a perfect stranger, and one who seemed to have never experienced true grief at that. She would never understand his unique brand of tragedy.
    Miss Bell touched his arm reassuringly . “It’s all right. I’m still tired from last night’s flight anyway. Perhaps you should just take me home, and we can do this another time. ”
    A rush of relief mixed with regret surged through him. Blaine let out a large sigh and nodded. “Certainly. I’ll get your coat.”
    Since his “date” was a bust, Blaine decided to visit the corner pub for a stiff drink. The usual crowd was already there. Ordinarily, he would have joined a few of the boys he knew over at the corner booth, but tonight he had too much on his mind.
    So, his father was dying. Why should he care? What could the old man possibly want from him now after all these years?
    It had been ten years, but after all the living he had done, it seemed more like a lifetime ago. That last fight replayed in his mind; all the old feelings were still there, firmly intact with the memory. Maybe it wasn’t a lifetime ago, after all. The anger bubbled again below the surface as Blaine sat down at the bar.
    “Whiskey.”
    The bartender raised an eyebrow. He knew Blaine well enough to notice the strangeness of the order. The hard stuff wasn’t his usual. When he seemed about to question the order, Blaine cut him off, “Never mind the mommy lecture, Duke. Whiskey. Now.”
    Duke shrugged and slid the shot glass across the counter to his customer. Slapping a bill on the counter, Blaine added, “And keep ‘em coming.” The bartender hesitated a moment, scrutinizing the man before him, and then with resignation, he set the bottle next to Blaine’s hand and turned away.
    An ironic smirk played at Blaine’s lips as he regarded the glass in his hand. The encroaching rage threatened to take over his mind. The whiskey probably wouldn’t help, but he was willing to try it. It had been awhile since he’d been good and drunk.
    Cocking his head back, he drained the shot in one gulp, then reached for the bottle and turned to survey the pub. Leaning back on the bar, h e poured another glass and downed that one just as quickly. He repeated the sequence two more times. The warmth of the liquor spread through him like fire.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a table of his friends, so he sauntered toward them with his half-empty bottle in tow. “Hey, fellas,” he greeted them with an easy grin.
    “Cool Hand! We were wonderin’ when you’d show up!” A red-headed dock worker stood and slapped him on the back.
    “Yeah, where were ya been? Haven’t seen you in ages,” chimed in the man’s dark-skinned companion.
    “Flying. Had a week’s trip. Just got back this morning.”
    The tinkle of the bell caught Blaine’s attention and he turned groggily to look at the door. A mesmerizing lull seemed to be settling in his bra in. A short, wiry man stepped through the front door with a gorgeous blonde on his arm. The man wore a broad smile , like he’d just won big at the track. He gingerly helped the woman out of her coat and turned to hang it on the wall hook.
    The woman with him stepped out of his way, movi ng under a hanging lantern, illuminating her fully in the dim room. Blaine squinted through his rapidly descending haze. She seemed vaguely familiar.
    Beside him the red-headed man taunted the others, “Hey, fellas, look who’s back in town!”
    “Yeah, b oys! Isn’t that Miss Bell?” another added. The name struck a chord in Blaine’s mind, and he did a double-take at the woman who had just come in.
    “I tell you what, I’d like to ring her bell,” oozed the dark Italian on the other side of the table. The other men chuckled and agreed , if their gawking glances were any