Mountain Man Lumberjack (SMALL TOWN MOUNTAIN MEN) by Natasha L. Black EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Natasha L. Black
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MIKE
There wasn’t much to do in Singer’s Ridge on a Friday night. Most of the
local kids went to the next town or even as far as Nashville for a good
time. I remembered Friday nights as a teen, drinking beer out in the woods
behind my friend’s farm. We all dreamed of getting away, of joining the
Army or moving to the city, anything to banish the small-town blues.
I was back in Singer’s Ridge, not for a vacation or a high school reunion,
but because my life had been put on hold. It was Friday night. I was faced
with the dilemma that all rural folks have to deal with: how to expend
energy without fancy concerts or upscale dining. The Lucky Lady was
pretty much the only bar in town if you wanted live music and good food.
The same regulars turned up week after week, but they brought bands in
from out of town. With nothing else to do and nowhere I wanted to go, I
drifted there like a tumbleweed on the wind.
“Hey, Clint,” I said as I settled myself at the bar.
“Mike,” the bartender returned the greeting, a little cold. I couldn’t blame
him. Everyone in town thought I was a drug dealer. Could be because I was
tried and convicted in a court of law, but that didn’t make it true.
“A pint of whatever’s on tap,” I ordered.
Clint drew a pint of wheat ale and handed it over, not offering to run me a
tab. He waited patiently while I fished a five out of my pocket. These tiny
jabs were never-ending. It seemed once a person was labeled a criminal,
that’s all anyone ever saw. Just because I had been to prison didn’t mean I
was going to take my beer and make a run for it. Where would I go?
Everyone in town knew me, and without the Lucky Lady to entertain me on
Friday nights, I would be miserable.
I had given up trying to explain myself to anyone. Unless I chose to leave
town, I would have to put up with their suspicious eyes and the way they
treated me differently from everyone else. The whole time I was locked up,
I had been aching to get out, to get back to my “normal” life. Now here I
was, anything but normal, a pariah in my own hometown.
“Mike?” A familiar voice cut through my internal bellyaching. I swiveled in
my seat to see Porter, the last person I ever wanted to talk to.
“Hello,” I said, drowning my discomfort in a swallow of beer.
“Mike, it’s been so long!” Porter gushed, his eyes wide and watery. “How
you been?”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
He stumbled up to the bar, leaning against it for balance.
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