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evening than in the last month.”
    “I don’t picture him texting.” In truth, his tardiness gave her a chance to corral nerves that bucked out of reach despite her positive self-talk.
    Maybe he’ll be so late you’ll miss each other entirely tonight , fear said. Maybe you’ll have a beer, hear some great music, and go home. No harm. No foul.
    Georgia laid her hand on Leah’s arm. “If Alex says he’ll be here, he will.”
    “Great.” She watched Georgia cut through the crowd, crack jokes with a few of the men and women, and take her place on center stage. The band behind her was comprised of two guitars, a drummer, and a fiddle player. The fiddle player sawed a few chords of “Fire on the Mountain” as Georgia wrapped her fingers around the mic.
    Nestling her mouth close to it, Georgia asked, “You boys and girls ready for some trouble tonight?”
    The crowd hooped, hollered, and clapped.
    The heat in the room rising, Leah moved toward a coatrack and hung her jacket on a peg. Habit had her recounting the exits in the bar. Only two, and neither was easily reached. Tension rippled through her body. What had her therapist said? Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re going to be fine.
    Moving toward an open spot on the bar, she welcomed the task of getting a beer more than the drink itself. Something to hold would make her feel more normal for a second or two. Normal twenty-nine-year-old women held a beer, right? And then, once she got the beer, well, she’d worry about what came next.
    As Georgia began a lively tune, a Taylor Swift song about boys and true love, the bartender, KC, caught sight of her almost immediately and lumbered toward her. “What can I get you?”
    She smiled because people in lively places like this were supposed to be having a good time and people having a good time smiled. “A beer.”
    He picked up a rag from under the bar and wiped the space in front of her. “Bottle or draft?”
    “Bottle.”
    From a cooler below the bar, he pulled out an iced bottled beer. She watched as he popped the top and set it in front of her. As she reached for money, he shook his head. “Alex said he’d cover the tab when he got here.”
    Was everyone watching her? That should have made her feel protected, right? “How do you know I’m here with Alex?”
    “He told me to expect a pretty petite brunette. And I saw you talking to his sister.”
    He was complimenting her, and compliments prompted smiles. She smiled. “Thanks.”
    His deep voice cut through the music. “Alex hates to be late. But that’s the nature of a cop’s job.”
    “Makes sense. No schedule for crime and all.”
    As Georgia’s voice rose and teased the edges of a high note, KC leaned closer. “He’s a hell of a good cop. Great guy. Bit of a control freak. In a good way of course.”
    She sipped her beer, wondering if there was a good kind of control freak. “Of course.”
    KC leaned on the bar, in no real rush to move along. “I hear from Georgia that you work at the vet hospital.”
    The cold beer tasted good. “For about four months now.”
    Beefy fingers swiped over a thick mustache. “What’re you, like a nurse?”
    “Like a doctor. I’m a veterinary surgeon.”
    A dark brow arched, and she sensed he’d checked off another box on a mental list. “A real animal doctor.”
    Grinning, she raised the bottle to her lips. “I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
    “Good for you.” A patron at the bar held up an empty glass and called out, but he waved him away. “So how did you and Alex meet?”
    “At the clinic. Tracker introduced us.”
    KC laughed. “Right. Makes sense. That dog gets around.” He turned to go, then paused. “You know, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
    She swallowed a gulp of beer. “I’m not nervous.”
    He winked. “I used to be a cop. I know nervous when I see it.”
    A direct gaze, she’d been told, conveyed truth and courage. “I’m not nervous. Must be fatigue. I worked a