The Party, late May
She didnât normally go to parties, and she wondered what she was doing in Joeâs Bar on a Saturday night with at least forty other people, the smell of booze and cigarette smoke assaulting her every breath and music she despised making her ears ring. She thought of her home, of her bed, of herself clad in soft pajamas and propped up with pillows against the headboard with the television onâsound turned down lowâand a book on her lap. That was how she spent her evenings, not like this. It would be a cold day in hell before she let anyoneâeven her sisterâtalk her into attending another âbirthday bashâ at the local pub.
Valâs gaze moved past the crowd at the bar to the jukebox in the corner. No one was listening to the teeth-jarring rhythms of the unidentifiable noise the machine produced, she thought resentfully, so why did they keep punching the same damn buttons?
âEnough,â she muttered, and dug into her pocket for some coins. She might have to hang around this place a little longer, but she could at least do something about the awful music jangling her nerves. Armed with quarters, she left her table and wended her way through the crowd to the jukebox, where she studied the list of song titles for several minutes before finally spotting one she actually liked. She had just extended her hand to drop her quarters into the slot when someone jostled her from behind, causing her to drop the coins. She turned to give the person who had so rudely run into her a dirty look, but he or she had melted into the crowd.
Shaking her head in disgust, Val stooped down to look for the change. The floor was dark, she realized, much darker than the rest of the place. Hoping it wasnât too dirty, she got on her knees and began feeling around for the coins.
In mere moments she realized that a long, jeans-clad leg was very close to her head. She took in the costly cowboy boot below the hem of the jeans and let her eyes travel up the length of the leg, and then farther still, to an attractive white-on-white western shirt that was nicely filled out by an extremely good-looking man.
She knew who he wasâReed Kingsleyâonly because everyone in Rumor, Montana, recognized the townâs fire chief, even if they werenât aware of his impressive family ties. There was nothing ordinary about Reed, especially his Romeo reputation. Val had heard that this guy went from woman to woman as most men changed shirts, which totally destroyed any interest she might have had in himâif she had been in the market for a man, which she wasnât, with very good reason. She no longer played silly games, thanks to that one awful day when her entire world had been torn apart. Reed was handsome and rich and involved in almost everything that went on in Rumor, but Val didnât care who the devil he was; he had usurped her place at the jukebox!
âExcuse me,â she said coolly, and when he didnât immediately respond, added a highly sarcastic, âHello?â
He looked around, saw her and grinned. âWhatâre you doing on the floor?â
To hell with the quarters, Val thought, and got to her feet. âI dropped my coins. I was going to play H-32, but you took my turn, anyway, so to heck with the whole thing.â She began walking away and was startled to feel his hand on her arm. She gave him a look that made him yank it back so fast it seemed to blur.
âSorry,â he said.
âYes, you are,â she retorted, and left him standing there with his mouth open. At her table again, she tossed out lies to the others seated there. She wasnât entirely sure of how she got out of Joeâs so fast, but she was inside lying through her teeth one second and outside breathing fresh air the next.