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someday.”
    I sighed heavily. “Yeah, that’s true, but I don’t really know if what I’m writing is any good.”
    “You haven’t let anyone read it?”
    “No. It’s my escape and my dream, and I’m not ready to find out I’m wasting my time.”
    “I can understand that. Dreams and reality are rarely in alignment.” A flash of regret played across his features, quickly replaced by the stern set of his lips. “However, if you ever want some feedback, I’ve got a lot of experience with storyline help and editing.”
    “Yeah, thanks, I don’t know.” I was so caught up in the conversation I hadn’t realized two new people had sat at the bar.
    “Judy, can you take their order?” Stuart asked, tilting his head toward the end of the bar. The bar manager had come up behind me without my being aware.
    “Oh, yeah. Going,” I responded, looking at Tate in question and then breaking eye contact.
    More patrons filed over to the bar, and I mixed and pulled their drinks. I could feel Tate’s stare like the red laser light at the end of a sharp shooter’s rifle. The heat of his attention followed me everywhere. Before I could change my mind, I stalked back over to him. “I’m probably going to regret this, but are you free Wednesday night?”
    “Yes,” he muttered in what sounded like a breath of relief.
    “Let me talk to a few people, and I’ll let you know. This isn’t a date. I want to make that clear.”
    “Agreed. Think about letting me look over some of your work.”
    “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but would you mind taking off?”
    He held my stare, and I didn’t immediately back down. He seemed to know that his presence was an intense distraction, and I didn’t much care for his astute cognizance. Without breaking the connection, he fished money out of his wallet and lay it down in front of him.
    I gave in and reached for the bills.
    “I’ll take off, but first let me give you my number.”
    I punched a few buttons on my phone and brought up the address book. “Here.” I offered him my phone.
    His fingers brushed mine, and I gasped in response. He seemed to have zero reaction to the contact.
    I felt my nipples responding again. They were like rebellious teenagers. I wrapped my arms around my chest and waited for Tate to give me back my phone.
    When he replaced it in my hand, he said, “See you soon.”
    As soon as he left, I could feel my pulse settle and my shoulders relax. Seeing him again seemed stupid and problematic. And yet, he seemed to have a sad story of his own that I was now curious about. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say, and part of me wanted to track down one particular Cat.
    Tap 42 steadily picked up and even with four of us behind the bar, we mixed drinks non-stop, pulled beers, filled the ice bucket, ran the register, and cleaned glasses. When it got that busy, even the pushy guys didn’t expect to get my attention for more than a second or two.
    Since I opened that night, I didn’t have to stay until closing. Once the crowd at the bar began to die down, I was able to leave for the night.

CHAPTER THREE
    You Could Be Happy
    by Snow Patrol
    F or most people, Sunday morning was either a day for rest or religion. My Sunday, however, included the women’s group and meeting my mother’s latest “wallet.” Neither prospect felt the least bit appealing as I sat eating oatmeal at the kitchen table by the window.
    I usually felt better after attending the women’s group, that is, if Charmaine didn’t show. She had a major bug up her butt about me and usually gave me a hard time. Without her there, it felt more like a supportive group of women listening to each other. For Charmaine, group therapy was more like an action sport. Serve, volley, lob!
    I slipped into a pair of black shorts and a tank and then remembered I’d be heading straight over to my mother’s after the meeting. Even though the heat index was pushing up the mercury, I changed into jeans and a