Read Online Between Sisters by Kristin Hannah - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kristin Hannah
Tags: Fiction
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having dinner, watching television, talking, making love. Connecting with one another.
I'm sorry
, May had said,
that no man has ever shown you the other side
.
I'm sorry.
Meghann walked past her building. She didn't want to go up there, put on her old UW sweats, eat Raisin Bran for dinner, and watch a rerun of
Third Watch
.
She went into the Public Market. At this late hour, pretty much everything was closed up. The fish vendors had gone home, and the dewy, beautiful vegetables had been boxed up until tomorrow. The stalls—normally filled with dried flowers, handmade crafts, and homemade food items—were empty.
She turned into the Athenian, the old-fashioned tavern made famous in
Sleepless in Seattle.
It was at this polished wooden bar that Rob Reiner had told Tom Hanks about dating in the nineties.
The smoke in here was so thick you could have played ticktacktoe in it with your finger. There was something comforting in the lack of political correctness in the Athenian. You could order a trendy drink, but their specialty was ice-cold beer.
Meghann had perfected the art of scoping out a bar without being obvious. She did that now.
There were five or six older men at the bar. Fishermen, she'd guess, getting ready to head up to Alaska for the season. A pair of younger Wall Street types were there, too, drinking martinis and no doubt talking shop. She saw enough of that kind in court.
“Hey, Meghann,” yelled Freddie, the bartender. “Your usual?”
“You bet.” Still smiling, she moved past the bar and turned left, where several varnished wooden tables hugged the two walls. Most were full of couples or foursomes; a few were empty.
Meghann found a place in the back. She sidled into the glossy wooden seat and sat down. A big window was to her left. The view was of Elliot Bay and the wharf.
“Here ye be,” Freddie said, setting a martini glass down in front of her. He shook the steel shaker, then poured her a cosmopolitan. “You want an order of oysters and fries?”
“You read my mind.”
Freddie grinned. “Ain't hard to do, counselor.” He leaned down toward her. “The Eagles are coming in tonight. Should be here any minute.”
“The Eagles?”
“The minor league ball team outta Everett.” He winked at her. “Good luck.”
Meghann groaned. It was bad when bartenders started recommending whole ball teams.
I'm sorry.
Meghann began drinking. When the first cosmo was gone, she ordered a second. By the time she saw the bottom of the glass again, she'd almost forgotten her day.
“May I join you?”
Meghann looked up, startled, and found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes.
He stood in front of her, with one foot up on the seat opposite her. She could tell by the look of him—young, blond, sexy as hell—that he was used to getting what he wanted. And what he wanted tonight was her.
The thought was a tonic.
“Of course.” She didn't offer a half smile or bat her eyes. Pretense had never appealed to her. Neither had games. “I'm Meghann Dontess. My friends call me Meg.”
He slid into the seat. His knees brushed hers, and at the contact, he smiled. “I'm Donny MacMillan. You like baseball?”
“I like a lot of things.” She flagged down Freddie, who nodded at her. A moment later, he brought her another cosmopolitan.
“I'll have a Coors Light,” Donny said, leaning back and stretching his arms out along the top of the seat back.
They stared at each other in silence. The noise in the bar grew louder, then seemed to fade away, until all Meghann could hear was the even strains of his breathing and the beating of her heart.
Freddie served a beer and left again.
“I suppose you're a baseball player.”
He grinned, and
damn
, it was sexy. She felt the first twinge of desire. Sex with him would be great; she knew it. And it would make her forget—
I'm sorry.
—about her bad day.
“You know it. I'm gonna make it to the show. You watch. Someday I'll be famous.”
That was why
I'm sorry
, May had said,
that no man has ever shown you the other side
.
I'm sorry.
Meghann walked past her building. She didn't want to go up there, put on her old UW sweats, eat Raisin Bran for dinner, and watch a rerun of
Third Watch
.
She went into the Public Market. At this late hour, pretty much everything was closed up. The fish vendors had gone home, and the dewy, beautiful vegetables had been boxed up until tomorrow. The stalls—normally filled with dried flowers, handmade crafts, and homemade food items—were empty.
She turned into the Athenian, the old-fashioned tavern made famous in
Sleepless in Seattle.
It was at this polished wooden bar that Rob Reiner had told Tom Hanks about dating in the nineties.
The smoke in here was so thick you could have played ticktacktoe in it with your finger. There was something comforting in the lack of political correctness in the Athenian. You could order a trendy drink, but their specialty was ice-cold beer.
Meghann had perfected the art of scoping out a bar without being obvious. She did that now.
There were five or six older men at the bar. Fishermen, she'd guess, getting ready to head up to Alaska for the season. A pair of younger Wall Street types were there, too, drinking martinis and no doubt talking shop. She saw enough of that kind in court.
“Hey, Meghann,” yelled Freddie, the bartender. “Your usual?”
“You bet.” Still smiling, she moved past the bar and turned left, where several varnished wooden tables hugged the two walls. Most were full of couples or foursomes; a few were empty.
Meghann found a place in the back. She sidled into the glossy wooden seat and sat down. A big window was to her left. The view was of Elliot Bay and the wharf.
“Here ye be,” Freddie said, setting a martini glass down in front of her. He shook the steel shaker, then poured her a cosmopolitan. “You want an order of oysters and fries?”
“You read my mind.”
Freddie grinned. “Ain't hard to do, counselor.” He leaned down toward her. “The Eagles are coming in tonight. Should be here any minute.”
“The Eagles?”
“The minor league ball team outta Everett.” He winked at her. “Good luck.”
Meghann groaned. It was bad when bartenders started recommending whole ball teams.
I'm sorry.
Meghann began drinking. When the first cosmo was gone, she ordered a second. By the time she saw the bottom of the glass again, she'd almost forgotten her day.
“May I join you?”
Meghann looked up, startled, and found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes.
He stood in front of her, with one foot up on the seat opposite her. She could tell by the look of him—young, blond, sexy as hell—that he was used to getting what he wanted. And what he wanted tonight was her.
The thought was a tonic.
“Of course.” She didn't offer a half smile or bat her eyes. Pretense had never appealed to her. Neither had games. “I'm Meghann Dontess. My friends call me Meg.”
He slid into the seat. His knees brushed hers, and at the contact, he smiled. “I'm Donny MacMillan. You like baseball?”
“I like a lot of things.” She flagged down Freddie, who nodded at her. A moment later, he brought her another cosmopolitan.
“I'll have a Coors Light,” Donny said, leaning back and stretching his arms out along the top of the seat back.
They stared at each other in silence. The noise in the bar grew louder, then seemed to fade away, until all Meghann could hear was the even strains of his breathing and the beating of her heart.
Freddie served a beer and left again.
“I suppose you're a baseball player.”
He grinned, and
damn
, it was sexy. She felt the first twinge of desire. Sex with him would be great; she knew it. And it would make her forget—
I'm sorry.
—about her bad day.
“You know it. I'm gonna make it to the show. You watch. Someday I'll be famous.”
That was why
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