“Me’n Jack go way back.”
After the waitress dropped off their drinks, Janie held up her lowball glass. “To Jack Daniel’s. The only man you can count on.”
“Amen to that, sister.” They clinked their glasses.
“What’re you doing out alone?” Harper asked.
“Probably tempting fate,” Janie muttered.
Weird answer.
“Seriously, I don’t know. I just wanted to see if anything had changed in Muddy Gap.”
“Has it?”
“Not really. Except . . .” Janie pointed to the bar. “Mac used to bartend instead of Susan. I wonder what happened to him.”
Harper snickered.
“What? You know the gossip, don’t you?”
“I sure do.”
“Come on, we’re drinking buddies now. You have to tell me.”
“Mac ran off with my mother, who used to be a cocktail waitress here.”
Janie choked on her drink. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”
“I wish.” Harper related the sordid tale, including coming back to Muddy Gap to take over as Bailey’s legal guardian and their recent issues.
“You are one selfless woman, Harper, to get saddled with that responsibility and not complain.”
“I’m not selfless. I thought I was keeping our family together and keeping us from becoming another statistic, but now I wonder if I haven’t forced the sister bond.” Harper drained her drink and started on the next one. “Do you have siblings?”
Janie scowled. “Two half sisters and one half brother that are young enough to be my kids.”
“Do you have children?”
“No. Thank God I dodged that bullet. Though, at the time, that’s all I wanted. I believed a baby would fix everything in our marriage.”
“I take it you’re divorced.”
“For eight years.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “Wow. You were a child bride or something?”
“Sort of. I’m thirty-three. How old did you think I was?”
“My age. Twenty-four.”
“I appreciate the compliment.” Janie sipped her drink. “So tell me about this man problem.”
From an early age Harper had learned to keep her private business private, mostly because Social Services was always sniffing around. But it wasn’t like she was eight years old anymore. And hadn’t she just been lamenting the fact she didn’t have anyone to talk to?
“Sorry. I’m nosy,” Janie said.
“No, it’s not that. Just trying to decide if by telling you that I’m sleeping with my boss, you’ll automatically assume I’m like my mother.”
“I’m the last person to pass judgment on anyone.”
So over the next half hour, Harper told Janie about Bran, the work she’d been doing on his ranch, and their intense sexual relationship, all without divulging his name. Because if Janie had lived here, even years ago, chances were good she knew Bran.
Immediately after she finished sharing her story, Janie demanded, “Are you in love with him?”
Yes. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m leaving.”
“You sure about that?”
Harper shrugged.
The band started tuning. More people wandered through the doors, shaking off the cold. Both she and Janie kept an eye on the arriving patrons. “See anyone you know?”
“I recognize a few. It’s probably a good thing the lighting in here is bad and no one will recognize me.”
“Why? Did you leave town in the dead of night with the townsfolk’s money earmarked for the orphanage? And they sent a hanging posse after you?”
Janie laughed. But her mirth vanished suddenly and she muttered, “Shit,” then ducked behind Harper.
“See someone you know?”
“My ex-husband. Dammit. I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Where is he?” Harper asked, craning her neck, without it seeming like she was trying to get a gander at who might be Janie’s ex.
“Ladies. May I join you?”
Harper stopped trying to block Janie with her body and turned to face the male voice. “Renner? What’re you doing here?”
“You know him?” Janie said.
She wasn’t sure if Renner wanted it to be common knowledge that he’d come into Get Nailed for a manicure. She deflected the question and asked Janie, “How do you know him?”
“He’s my boss.”
“Boss?” Harper repeated.
“I’m the interior designer and all-around slave for his hunting lodge and spa project.”
Renner rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even started to slave you yet, Janie dear. Anyway, I’m glad to see you two have met.” He yanked an extra chair from the table next to theirs.
The band launched into a peppy cover version of Faith Hill’s “This Kiss.”
Janie grabbed Renner’s hand, held it between her hands prayerlike, and begged, “Please, please, please, you have to dance with me. Right now.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s here.”
“No shit. Where?”
“Right over there. To your left.”
“Oh. Okay. I see him.” Renner appeared to regroup. “Lemme get my coat off.” As soon as he hung it on the back of the bar chair, Janie was dragging him away.