Chapter 10 (1/2)

I begin to feel as if I’m on the outside of a private joke between them. “Why?” I ask without thinking.

Hardin gives her a warning glare and waves his hand, dismissing my question. It takes everything in me not to knock him from the barstool. If I weren’t aware that he’s only trying to mask his pain, I would do just that.

“Long story, doll.” The woman waves for the bartender. “Anyway, you look like you could use some tequila.”

“No, I’m okay.” The last thing I want is a drink.

“Lighten up, baby.” Hardin leans closer to me. “You aren’t the one who just found out his entire life is a fucking lie, so lighten up and have a drink with me.”

My heart aches for him, but drinking isn’t the answer. I need to get him out of here. Now.

“Do you prefer your margaritas frozen or on the rocks? This isn’t no fancy place, so you don’t have many choices,” Judy tells me.

“I said I didn’t want a fucking drink,” I snap.

Her eyes widen, but she recovers quickly. I’m almost as surprised by my outburst as she is. I hear Hardin chuckle next to me, but I keep my eyes on this woman, who clearly enjoys her secrets.

“Okay, then. Someone needs to relax.” She digs her hands into her purse. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the oversize bag and lights up. “Smoke?” she asks Hardin.

I look at him, and to my surprise he nods. Judy reaches behind me to hand him the lit cigarette from her mouth. Who the hell is this woman?

The disgusting stick is placed between Hardin’s lips, and he takes a puff. Tendrils of smoke swirl between us, and I cover my mouth and nose.

I glare at him. “Since when do you smoke?”

“I’ve always smoked. Just not since I started at WCU.” He takes another drag. The glowing red fire at the end of the cigarette taunts me, and I reach over and snatch it from Hardin’s mouth and drop it into his half-full glass.

“What the fuck?” he half yells and stares down at his ruined drink.

“We are leaving. Now.” I step down from the barstool, grabbing hold of Hardin’s sleeve and pulling at him.

“No. We aren’t.” He twists away from my grip and attempts to get the bartender’s attention.

“He doesn’t want to leave,” Judy chimes in.

My anger is boiling, and this woman is just pissing me off. I stare deep into her mocking eyes, which I can barely find through the anthill of mascara she’s caked on. “I don’t remember asking you. Mind your own business, and find a new drinking partner, because we are leaving!” I shout.