Regrets Only Read Free

said in a voice that was low and breathy. “What can I get you?”
    “Just a beer. Draft, please.” Next to her, a woman got up from her stool and she quickly slid onto it.
    Sapphire placed a glass in front of her with a bit of foam making its way slowly down the side. “You should gamble tonight lady ’cause you must be lucky. A place to rest one’s ass has been virtually impossible to find.”
    “I’ll buy a lottery ticket on the way home.”
    “Pick one up for me, too,” Sapphire said, moving on to serve the next customer.
    The beer was cool but not chilled and Lucy pushed it aside. Obviously consumption was up this evening and the new batch hadn’t had ample refrigeration. She inhaled deeply, cherishing the secondary smoke as yet another reminder of Aidan in a night that seemed filled with his memory. The Christmas season highlighted his absence.
    “May I introduce myself?”
    His voice had the resonance of a radio announcer. She turned to see the curly-haired man with glasses whom she’d noticed earlier with the artist. He had a rectangular face, deep blue eyes, and prominent cheekbones. “Archer. I’m Archer Haverill,” he said, extending a hand.
    She shook it as she introduced herself. His palm was large and warm, and her small fingers seemed to disappear in its grasp.
    “My pleasure.” He bowed his head slightly. “I won’t ask if you come here often since I know you do. I’ve seen you at several of the readings recently.”
    She nodded. “I enjoy them.”
    “I’m glad. Truly. Because I constantly wonder when I’m reading work and picking someone to come speak whether anyone who listens will share my excitement. It’s so hard to gauge reactions.”
    “You choose?”
    He gave her a quizzical look and then commented, “This is my bar. Archer. The Arch. Get it?”
    Lucy felt herself blush. “Sorry. I didn’t put two and two together.”
    “So I guess that means even though I’m here virtually every night, I haven’t made much of an impression.” He clasped his hands together. “Maybe I should dye my hair, too. I obviously need a gimmick.”
    “Or work the bar. That helps,” she said, wondering whether she should confess that he did look familiar or that she’d been watching him earlier. No, she decided it wasn’t worth mentioning. She couldn’t tell whether his humility was entirely genuine, and she didn’t feel like fanning the fire of male arrogance if it wasn’t. But there was something besides his good looks, something in his manner that was appealing, and she didn’t want the conversation to end. “Do you pick the art, too?” she asked.
    “Yeah. What do you think of these self-portraits?”
    “Painful. They’ll stay with me,” she responded. “I’m not much of an art critic but I think they’re good. It’s amazing what someone can do with a piece of charcoal.”
    “He’d sent me slides but they didn’t do it justice. My impression changed completely when he brought the drawings in. He’s a great kid with a lot of talent though I wonder about him. The title was his idea. Of course I’d already agreed to hang the show before I realized I might have problems because he’s underage—only sixteen if you can believe it—but he’s practically lived here the last couple of days and so far not had a drop of alcohol. I think I’m safe.”
    “I won’t report you.”
    Archer smiled. “I appreciate that.” He paused, looked at her as if to gauge her reaction, and then asked in a voice that actually sounded timid, “Can I offer you a drink?”
    Lucy was about to respond when she felt a vibration in her pocket. Her beeper. She must have forgotten to turn it off when she’d left the precinct. Her shift had ended, but her squad was short-staffed around the holidays. Lieutenant Sage must have decided to call back some of his off-duty detectives. Although she wished she could ignore it, she pulled the BlackBerry from her pocket and checked the text