Read Online The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend by Katarina Bivald - Free Book Online
Authors: Katarina Bivald
Ads: Link
carefully up onto one of the bar stools and he pulled out the one next to her and sat down in one single relaxed movement.
When he caught sight of Andy, he smiled the first real, genuine smile she had seen from him. It made him look younger.
Andy didnât look at all like she had imagined from Amyâs letters. The only similarity was the boyish glint in his eye, which somehow suggested he still expected life to be full of adventure.
He grinned at her as though he was sure they would get on well, a grin which was impossible to resist. Then he looked back and forth between Tom and Sara in a way which made her cheeks burn and Tom straighten his stool so he ended up further away from her.
âWelcome to the Square,â said Andy. âA piece of history, a constant source of alcohol, a gathering point in Broken Wheel long before I was here.â He gestured around him.
Sara blinked.
âI only took over â¦â He looked questioningly at Tom. âSeven years ago? Can it really have been that long? When Abe departed this life. By then, heâd become worryingly obsessed with female country musicians.â
Sara felt increasingly relaxed the more obvious it became that she wasnât expected to take part in the conversation. Andy seemed to be doing fine on his own.
He leaned forward across the bar. âHis wife left him. And it wasnât Cash or Williams or Nelson he turned to for comfort but Dolly, Emmylou, Patsy, Loretta and Tammy. For five years, their lovesick, miserable voices put a downer on things here in the Square, right until the Dixie Chicks put a stop to all that.â
âOh, for Godâs sake, Andy.â Tom had clearly heard this story one too many times.
âHe was one of the first to burn their records, in protest over those things they said about Bush and Iraq, in a green trash can out in the yard. Itâs still there. I kept it. History, you know? He died a week later. No one thought there was any real link, but you canât help but wonder, can you? So thatâs when I brought Carl back from Denver with me and we set up here.â
âAnd the country music started blaring from the speakers again,â Tom said quietly to her.
It certainly had, but Sara had no idea who or what she was listening to.
âAnd weâve been here ever since.â
Tom ordered two beers which Sara, unsuccessfully, tried to pay for. Tom simply held out his own money, certain that Andy wouldnât take hers. He was right.
She wished Tom had let her pay. There was something tragic about being bought a beer by someone who didnât even like you. He sat there, silent and unmoving, looking as though he would rather be anywhere other than here, beside her in the bar. She took a cautious sip of her beer and regretted that she had ever left the kitchen.
âCarl,â said Andy, âcome say hi to Amyâs tourist.â
As Carl made his way from the other end of the bar, Sara looked expectantly towards him and then she froze, her beer half raised to her mouth. He really was indecently handsome. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a Harlequin novel. Though he was wearing a white T-shirt instead of a purple silk shirt, of course. Not that it made much of a difference.
She tried not to let any of this show as she held her hand out to him, before realising that you probably werenât expected to look quite so blank when you met new people for the first time.
She tried a relaxed smile instead.
Carl shook her hand quickly before retreating back to the wall, as though he was afraid she would throw herself at him. Even though he had an entire bar in front of him for protection. She could understand why. Looking like that, it was probably best to be on the safe side.
âJust like a Harlequin novel,â she said quietly. Tom snorted into his beer.
âRead a lot of those, do you?â he asked.
âEvery woman has read one,â she said.
When he caught sight of Andy, he smiled the first real, genuine smile she had seen from him. It made him look younger.
Andy didnât look at all like she had imagined from Amyâs letters. The only similarity was the boyish glint in his eye, which somehow suggested he still expected life to be full of adventure.
He grinned at her as though he was sure they would get on well, a grin which was impossible to resist. Then he looked back and forth between Tom and Sara in a way which made her cheeks burn and Tom straighten his stool so he ended up further away from her.
âWelcome to the Square,â said Andy. âA piece of history, a constant source of alcohol, a gathering point in Broken Wheel long before I was here.â He gestured around him.
Sara blinked.
âI only took over â¦â He looked questioningly at Tom. âSeven years ago? Can it really have been that long? When Abe departed this life. By then, heâd become worryingly obsessed with female country musicians.â
Sara felt increasingly relaxed the more obvious it became that she wasnât expected to take part in the conversation. Andy seemed to be doing fine on his own.
He leaned forward across the bar. âHis wife left him. And it wasnât Cash or Williams or Nelson he turned to for comfort but Dolly, Emmylou, Patsy, Loretta and Tammy. For five years, their lovesick, miserable voices put a downer on things here in the Square, right until the Dixie Chicks put a stop to all that.â
âOh, for Godâs sake, Andy.â Tom had clearly heard this story one too many times.
âHe was one of the first to burn their records, in protest over those things they said about Bush and Iraq, in a green trash can out in the yard. Itâs still there. I kept it. History, you know? He died a week later. No one thought there was any real link, but you canât help but wonder, can you? So thatâs when I brought Carl back from Denver with me and we set up here.â
âAnd the country music started blaring from the speakers again,â Tom said quietly to her.
It certainly had, but Sara had no idea who or what she was listening to.
âAnd weâve been here ever since.â
Tom ordered two beers which Sara, unsuccessfully, tried to pay for. Tom simply held out his own money, certain that Andy wouldnât take hers. He was right.
She wished Tom had let her pay. There was something tragic about being bought a beer by someone who didnât even like you. He sat there, silent and unmoving, looking as though he would rather be anywhere other than here, beside her in the bar. She took a cautious sip of her beer and regretted that she had ever left the kitchen.
âCarl,â said Andy, âcome say hi to Amyâs tourist.â
As Carl made his way from the other end of the bar, Sara looked expectantly towards him and then she froze, her beer half raised to her mouth. He really was indecently handsome. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a Harlequin novel. Though he was wearing a white T-shirt instead of a purple silk shirt, of course. Not that it made much of a difference.
She tried not to let any of this show as she held her hand out to him, before realising that you probably werenât expected to look quite so blank when you met new people for the first time.
She tried a relaxed smile instead.
Carl shook her hand quickly before retreating back to the wall, as though he was afraid she would throw herself at him. Even though he had an entire bar in front of him for protection. She could understand why. Looking like that, it was probably best to be on the safe side.
âJust like a Harlequin novel,â she said quietly. Tom snorted into his beer.
âRead a lot of those, do you?â he asked.
âEvery woman has read one,â she said.
Similar Books
