Bring Me A Maverick For Christmas!. Brenda Harlen

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       Chapter Four

      Serena found a vacant spot in the crowded lot outside the Ace in the Hole and shifted into Park. She pocketed the keys as she exited her vehicle, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increasing with every step she took closer to the oversize ace of hearts playing card that blinked in neon red over the front door. She could hear the music from the jukebox inside as she climbed the two rough-hewn wooden steps. The price of beer was subject to regular increases, but the ancient Wurlitzer still played three songs for a quarter.

      There were a few cowboys hanging around outside, cigarettes dangling from their fingers or pursed between their lips. She held her breath as she walked through their cloud of smoke and ignored the whistles and crude remarks tossed in her direction as she reached for the handle of the old screen door with its rusty hinges.

      Once inside, her gaze immediately went to the bar that ran the length of one wall with stools lined up along it. Booths hugged the other walls, with additional tables and chairs crowded around the perimeter of the dance floor.

      She made a cursory scan of the bodies perched on the stools at the bar. The mirrored wall behind the rows of glass bottles allowed her to see their faces. She recognized many, but none belonged to her mother.

      Rosey Traven, the owner of the Ace, was pouring drinks behind the bar. Catching Serena’s eye, she tipped her head toward the back. Serena forced her reluctant feet to move in that direction.

      She found her mother seated across from a man that Serena didn’t recognize. A friend? A date? A stranger?

      Amanda Langley mostly kept to herself. For the past couple of years, she’d worked as an admin assistant at the mill, but outside of her job, she didn’t have a lot of friends. And as far as Serena knew, she didn’t date much, either.

      She was an attractive woman, with the same blond hair and blue eyes as her daughter, but a more boyish figure and a raspy voice courtesy of a fifteen-year pack-a-day habit that she’d finally managed to kick a few years earlier.

      The man seated across from her wasn’t bad looking, either. He had broad shoulders, a shaven—or maybe bald—head, and a beard and moustache that were more salt than pepper.

      Serena hesitated, trying to decide whether to advance or retreat, when her mother glanced up and saw her. Amanda looked surprised at first—and maybe a little guilty? Then she smiled and beckoned her daughter over.