Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
He shook his head and scratched self-consciously at the back of his neck as he grinned at the floor. “My family thinks I’m crazy. They think it’s too far gone and needs one good swing of the wrecking ball, but…” He shrugged again. “I know I’m right. I feel it… I feel it here, you know?” His eyes met mine, and I could see the earnestness and conviction in them as he put his hand over his heart. I noticed his long fingers were work-worn and flecked with little nicks and scratches. I couldn’t help but imagine what those fingers would feel like on my skin.
Or what it would feel like if he looked at me with that same amount of passion and conviction that he talked about McBride.
I mentally shook my head, trying to rein my overly active imagination. The bartender was clearly waiting for me to respond, and I could already tell from the hint of hesitation and doubt crowding into his expression that he was wondering if perhaps he’d overshared.
“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” I pointed out.
His grin turned lopsided. “Hazard of living through the off-season—lots of time to think,” he said with a chuckle. “But yeah, I guess I have given it a lot of thought.” A slight frown marred his forehead, his expression turning contemplative. “I think sometimes it’s easy to let things get stagnant, you know? Maybe stagnant isn’t the right word, but you start to accept the status quo without question. You keep doing things the way you always did because that’s the way they’ve always been done. Don’t get me wrong, I love tradition and all, but sometimes you have to find a way to respect the past while still embracing the future.”
He gestured in the general direction of the bluff I’d driven past earlier that day. “Take the Sea Sprite, for example. That inn has been the anchor of this town for so long, and I think people have just gotten so used to it being there that it’s easy to take for granted. Sure it would take serious investment and a shit ton of elbow grease, but you revitalize the inn, and the town will follow. It’s just going to take someone with vision to make it happen.”
I thought about other properties my client had purchased and how the luxury resorts he’d built on them had inevitably impacted the nearby towns. High-dollar tourists expected a high-dollar experience, and that extended beyond the walls of the resort itself. They came on vacation with money to spend, and they weren’t looking for the standard kitschy souvenirs and bric-a-brac you might find in a small-town general store. They wanted diamonds and couture bathing suits and restaurants with unpronounceable items on the menu.
I traced my fingers down the condensation on my glass, trying to figure out how to best formulate my question. “Do you ever worry that the opposite might happen? That more tourists might lead to McBride losing its small-town charm?”
The bartender chuckled. “Nah. Most of us in McBride have lived our whole lives here, and when you live in a place all your life, it seeps into you. It becomes a part of you in a way. Your neighbors aren’t just people who live next door, they’re family. You shop at Don’s Book Nook down the block because Don’s mom knows who your favorite author is and has their latest book already waiting for you the day it comes out, and you know buying the book there rather than somewhere else means Janet can keep fostering dogs. You walk into the pharmacy and order jalapeño pickles on your patty melt because Precious keeps a jar in the kitchen just for you.”
His words struck a chord in me. It was the absolute sense of belonging somewhere. I realized suddenly that it was something that I’d never experienced before and hadn’t realized I’d been missing until that moment. I felt a sharp pang of longing and forced myself to focus on my half-empty glass, gripping it tightly and letting the biting cold of the melting ice seep into my palms.
“I can see why you love it here.” I cleared my throat, hoping he hadn’t heard the loneliness that had crept into my voice.
“I do. This place isn’t just my past, it’s my future.” His eyes met mine, and there was an intensity to them, a lingering passion from talking about McBride.
It made me wonder when I’d last felt that kind of passion. Not anytime recently that I could remember.
The moment felt charged between us, a casual conversation that had unexpectedly turned deep and personal. He seemed to realize it at the same time I did because his cheeks flushed pink. “You’re easy to talk to,” he said, sounding a little sheepish. “I don’t usually spill so much of my personal shit to the customers. Sorry about that.”