“Think we’ll be busy tonight?”

I glanced up at Michelle, the waitress. I’d gone to high school with her, too, but she’d been a couple of years older than me and we hadn’t known each other real well. We’d chatted a bit since I’d returned, since we were often on the same shifts, and I liked her.

Her parents were farmers and Michelle had been a bit of a wild child, the youngest of four. Pregnant at seventeen, she’d married the baby’s daddy, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d up and left them when baby number two was on the way, and she’d been on her own ever since.

Michelle worked hard and had a little place of her own. Her mom often helped out, watching John, who was now ten, and little Maddie, just turned four.

“I hope so,” I said, knowing that slow business meant fewer tips. “There’s a doubleheader Little League game tonight, someone said, so we’ll probably get people once that’s over.”

Rushville was small enough that the ebb and flow of town life affected most everyone. If there was a game, chances were you knew somebody who’d be there. Either because their kid was playing, or they were going to support a friend whose kid was playing.

“Is Carol coming in later, do you know?” Michelle asked, sliding onto a barstool.

“Yeah, I think she’s on at six?” I answered, trying to recall the schedule in my head. “Then it’s just the three of us on the floor until close.” Of course, closing time in Rushville was way earlier than in Indy. Here, if no one was in the bar at eleven thirty or even eleven, we closed. Technically, we closed at midnight, but usually the pub stayed open that late only on the weekends.

Carol was a bit over thirty and new to town, having moved here only six months ago. She was single, didn’t have any kids, and I wasn’t sure what had brought her to Rushville but hadn’t pried. She kept to herself and seemed nice enough.

Michelle and I chatted while it was slow, then things started picking up for the dinner rush. There were two other restaurants in town, but one was the café that only served breakfast and lunch. The other was a chain all-you-can-eat buffet place where a lot of families with kids ate. The result was that though O’Sullivan’s was a pub, people came to eat as well as drink there.

The main cook was a guy named Danny, who had an overabundance of personality and was impossible not to like. He was black and about six feet tall, but skinny as a post. Danny fancied himself an undiscovered singer of some talent, so he was often belting out tunes while he worked the grill. In his early twenties, he said he was saving money to head to California, and that he’d made it to the final rounds of callbacks for one of those talent shows on TV that held auditions all around the country.

I hadn’t told anyone that I was pregnant. First, it wasn’t really anyone’s business, and second, I wasn’t ready to answer questions. Although I was pretty universally liked, there were still a lot of eyebrows that would go up when my “condition” became common knowledge. I didn’t think anyone would be outright mean to me—times were a lot different from twenty years ago—but I wanted more time to settle in. I’d barely grown accustomed to the idea myself. I wasn’t yet ready to spread my future status as a single mom around town.

The usual dinner rush was delayed because, as I’d predicted, everyone went to the game, which meant that business started hopping around nine thirty. Carol, Michelle, and I didn’t have time to spare as we hustled food and drinks. A lot of people liked to sit at the bar to eat, so I was going nonstop. After the initial rush, moms started departing with tired kids in tow. Some of the men stayed put to have another drink or two as they recounted the game. The Colts had a preseason game coming up on the weekend, so conversation also revolved around the team and their chances for the year.

I filled a pitcher of beer and headed to a table of seven guys. Several of them I knew from high school and they were regulars, often stopping by in either twos or threes or sometimes all together, like tonight. They were all buddies, though two were unmarried. The rest were in various stages of early marriage, some with babies on the way or young children.

“Hey, Kathleen, how’re you doing tonight?” one of them asked. His name was Matt and he’d been two years ahead of me in school. He was nice and good-looking, with blue eyes and light brown hair. Matt’s dad was a pig farmer and now that he was getting up there in age, Matt mostly ran the rather affluent family business. In school, he hadn’t paid me a bit of mind, but it seemed he was looking to settle down and he’d been real friendly to me since I’d got back. We’d had several conversations and I enjoyed seeing him come in, which he’d been doing more often lately.

“I’m good, Matt,” I said with a smile. “How was the game tonight?” Matt had a buddy, Steve, who was several years older and had two kids, twin boys, on the team. Matt helped coach. He was a big guy, over six feet, with broad shoulders and lean hips. He had the perfect athletic physique, honed by years of working on a farm.

“It was fun, the kids did great,” he replied, his enthusiasm contagious.

I smiled and turned to go, but he stopped me with a hand on my arm. I turned back, raising my eyebrows. “Did you need something else?” I asked.

Matt’s ears turned a little pink as he tugged me closer, as though he wanted to say something quietly so that the guys he was with wouldn’t hear. They didn’t seem to be paying attention, instead arguing over the relative strengths and weaknesses of the Colts’ offensive line.

“Um, Kathleen,” he said in an undertone. I leaned down a little to hear him. “I was just wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me Saturday, if you’re not working. Or Friday. Or, just, whenever you’re off.”

It was real sweet, how nervous he seemed, which took me by surprise. I hadn’t garnered much attention in high school from boys, but it seemed age and time had turned me into a girl they now noticed. I’d caught a few glances my way during the past few weeks, but Matt was the first to actually ask me out.

Of course, I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t ready to go out on a date with someone, not when I still lay awake nights staring at the ceiling and seeing Kade’s face every time I closed my eyes. And what was the proper protocol for telling anyone I might get serious with that, oh, by the way, I was having another man’s child in a little over seven months?

“Thanks, Matt,” I said finally, “but I . . . can’t right now. Ask me again sometime, will you?” I smiled, hoping to soften the rejection, and it seemed to work because the initial disappointment on his face was followed by a grin.

“I sure will,” he said.

I headed back to the bar, breathing a quiet sigh. Things were complicated enough in my life without involving another man in the picture. But I also counted my blessings. Things could be worse, that’s for sure. I had my own place, and didn’t have to worry about money. I was close enough to Indy to still keep in touch with Blane once the baby was born. I was sure Mona and Gerard would want to be involved in the baby’s life, too, as well as his Uncle Blane. At least, I hoped so.

Though I hadn’t yet broken the news to Chance, which I was dreading, I thought I could count on Lucy to support me. She knew what being a single mom was like and I didn’t think she’d let Chance rant for too long about Kade, which he was sure to do once he found out Kade was no longer in the picture.

The evenings were getting cooler now that September was just days away, and people lingered tonight. I didn’t mind. There wasn’t much to go home to and I enjoyed listening to people talk. Michelle left, so it was just me, Carol, and Danny by the time eleven thirty rolled around.

The group of seven guys had dwindled to four and I hovered by their table as I delivered another pitcher. They were feeling good but weren’t drunk, and were trying to get me to solve a friendly disagreement. I laughed at their jokes and teasing, then made my excuses and headed back to the bar to continue my prep work for the next day. It felt good to be home. The people here were just different than city people. More relaxed, more friendly. It was nice to be where I had a history and with people who not only knew me but had known my parents, too.

I was singing along softly to the music playing over the sound system when the door opened. I glanced up, then promptly dropped the empty mug I’d been holding.

Kade had walked into the bar.

I stared at him in openmouthed shock, whereas he looked wholly unsurprised to see me.

He wore a black button-down shirt and black jeans. The shirt was untucked, which I knew meant his gun was lodged in his jeans at the small of his back. His hair was exactly as I remembered, inky black and slightly tousled, the strands long and brushing his forehead. The blue of his eyes pierced me despite the distance between us, and it was like someone had shoved their fist into my gut.

I realized then that the bar had gone quiet, the only sound that of the music playing, as the customers who remained turned to get a look at the newcomer who was very obviously not from around here.

He’d changed, in just the month since I’d last seen him. Not physically, but in his demeanor. The planes of his face were as smooth and unreadable as granite, his eyes as hard and cold as I’d ever seen them. He radiated menace and danger, his palpable presence seeming to proclaim “Don’t fuck with me.” And only a fool would.

Kade finally broke our staring contest, his gaze taking a quick catalog of the bar and people, then he headed toward me. Conversation resumed and the moment was over.