Who knew boots could be that expensive?
I sauntered up to the bar and ordered myself a whiskey. I didn’t even need to look to know that Tim was checking me out. He liked his girls blonde and curvy. I made myself into exactly his type. He was also a man who wasn’t afraid to go after something he wanted.
The stool next to me scraped against the floor as he pulled it out and took a seat next to me. I lifted my eyebrows in surprise and turned my head rather arrogantly.
He liked his girls feisty. He wanted a bit of a chase before he won and took me to his bed.
“Hey there, beautiful, what are you drinking?” he asked.
“Jack Daniel’s,” I answered coyly.
“Here. Try a sip of this and tell me what you think. I bet you’ve never tasted something as smooth and smoky,” he said confidently. He held out his glass and I took it into my fingers. I glanced down at the amber liquid with curiosity before I lifted it to my lips and took a small sip.
For a while, I was quiet, letting the gentle burn ebb across my tongue and buzz down my throat. Tim wasn’t really a patient sort of guy though and just like I thought he would, he asked what I thought.
“So. Good stuff, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty good.”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he insisted.
“Make it Jack Daniel’s,” I answered teasingly.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I mean, yours is good and all, but Jack Daniel’s just reminds me of the horses and campfires of the open range back home,” I replied.
“Where are you from?” he asked. I’d piqued his curiosity now.
“Montana,” I replied.
“No shit. I’ve got a ranch out there.”
“How does a cowgirl like you find yourself lost in a big city like this?” he questioned.
“Family. My sister lives out here and she’s not doing well. Breast cancer and all,” I replied sadly.
Tim was a family man. He’d been married a few times already, but he took care of his ex-wives and his kids. They wanted for nothing and from what I could tell, everyone was perfectly happy except Tim was single now and he very much didn’t like being single.
Insert me and my pretty blonde hair and lengthy curves and cowgirl boots.
Tim’s perfect storm.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Tina,” I answered with a smile.
“Tim,” he grinned, taking a sip of his top-shelf whiskey.
He waved over the bartender and ordered me another drink. The man topped off my now empty whiskey glass and I took a long draw, looking back curiously at Tim.
Just over his shoulder, I saw a man in the corner. He was alone in a black coat. His face was covered in a thick brown beard, his scalp thick with luscious brunette locks that begged to be touched.
If I wasn’t on the job, I might have been curious enough to sit down at his table. His eyes flicked up to mine and I jolted.
Blue.
Familiar blue eyes that I’d memorized some time ago.
No. It couldn’t be.
Dean.
I turned my head, trying to convince myself that I was just seeing things. I took a big swig of my drink, which made Tim chuckle, and I quickly looked back to that dark corner of the bar.
No one was there.
* * *
One week passed. Then two.
Tim and I were going steady. He took me out to several dinners, picking his favorite steakhouses that reminded him of the down-home cooking back in Montana. He told me stories about the ranch he had in Montana and I told him made-up ones about the life I never had there.
By week three, my fake sister had passed away and Tim was there to catch me through my contrived grief. My Tina persona had no other family and now I was all alone.
Tim couldn’t resist a damsel in distress.
I was heading out to meet him for coffee one morning along the paths of Central Park when I stopped for a bottle of water. As I was handing the merchant money to pay for it, I caught a glance of someone who looked deceptively like Dean again.
It couldn’t be him. I was seeing things I wanted to see.
I thought about him often. Sometimes when I was alone, I would slip my fingers between my thighs and make myself come with him in my fantasies. I would think about that tongue tangling with mine, kissing every inch of my naked skin, making me shiver with desire.
I shook my head.
None of my marks ever came for me after I left. The Father made sure of that. With each one, he held something dark over their heads as blackmail and if he couldn’t find anything powerful enough to keep them quiet, he simply ended them instead. They couldn’t come after me if they were dead.
Dean would be the same. The Father would send someone to threaten him if need be and he would step down like all the rest. He was sweet and gentle. I knew him. He wasn’t a fighter. He would take his lumps and turn the other way. He’d move on and so would I.
I’d never been found, and I never would be.
I turned and rushed down the street, gulping down water to soothe the sudden thirst that made me feel as if I’d been in the Sahara Desert for a week.
The country-style café wasn’t far. Tim had a gift for finding every western-themed place in the city and I told him I liked it. To be honest, it was cute that he just wanted to give me a little taste of home. Too bad he didn’t know that it wasn’t real.
* * *
For weeks, images of Dean plagued me. I thought I
