Black Ember by Ruby Laska Page B

down Caryn somehow knew that her stepfather wasn’t really hers, not like other dads. Excelling was, she now understood, her way of trying to impress him enough that he’d stay forever. It hadn’t worked.
    “I just meant that a man in his fifties might not be cut out for the long hours and harsh environment of working in a bar.”
    “Turk seems to do okay,” Zane pointed out.
    “I’ll give you that,” Caryn conceded. It had been hard to miss the trim torso under the faded beer-logo shirt, the hard muscles beneath the tattoos winding up and down Turk’s forearms. And he’d barely paused for breath the whole evening, making two drinks at once, filling Opal and Caryn’s orders while keeping up a steady patter with the patrons at the bar. “He seems exceptionally fit, though.”
    “Yeah. Buddy’s gone a little soft around the middle, I guess. But that’s probably due to Melanie more than anything. He spends every weekend with her, and I think he sees her during the week sometimes, too.”
    Caryn wasn’t prepared for the pang she felt at hearing the woman’s name again. Whoever this Melanie was, she had been able to capture Buddy’s heart in a way that Georgia never had. And Georgia had been a beautiful woman, back in the day. She still was, though nowadays she favored tailored suits and lacquered hair rather than the tight skirts and high heels Caryn remembered from when she was younger.
    Georgia could be overbearing and judgmental, and some would question the relentless way she’d pursued a better life for herself and her daughter. But Caryn knew that underneath the tough exterior was a warm and caring woman, whose intelligence and bravery had opened doors for the two of them. What man wouldn’t want a woman like that by his side?
    Well…at least two of them. Buddy had left Georgia when Caryn was still a baby. Randall had lasted almost a decade, but in the end he too had left, for someone younger and still beautiful, someone who wasn’t saddled with a child from a previous relationship.
    The faint undertone of insecurity pushed insistently at her. Caryn was her mother’s child in so many ways—determined, perfectionist, ambitious. Was she doomed to drive men away the same way her mother had?
    “You look like you’re thinking a thousand thoughts at once,” Zane said.
    Caryn snapped back to attention. Obviously Zane didn’t know anything more about Buddy’s health, which might or might not mean anything. Caryn would have to find someone who knew the man better. Possibly Opal, if she could find some time during today’s shift.
    “Do I?” She forced a smile. “I was actually thinking about my mom. She, um, is about Buddy’s age and she takes really good care of herself.” The understatement of the year: Georgia employed a whole team of trainers, estheticians, and dieticians to keep her toned and lean and fit. Carbs rarely passed her lips, and she drank no caffeine or alcohol.
    “No kidding?” Zane looked doubtful, which reminded Caryn that she was still in disguise. She had sifted through the box of clothes that Deneen said she and Jayne had earmarked for charity, choosing items that seemed suited to “Carrie.” She was wearing a pair of denim cutoffs that were shorter than any shorts she’d ever worn in her life, and under the T-shirt she’d borrowed from Zane was a sleeveless mesh top knotted at her waist, which did little to conceal the hot pink bra underneath. She had washed her hair in the shower, dismayed to see the water turning a murky shade of gray as it swirled down the drain, but at least when it dried it wasn’t quite as shockingly dark. At this rate, it would be back to a shade found in nature in a matter of weeks. She hadn’t bothered with any of the faux piercings, but she was wearing a pair of dangling silver earrings with tiny faux dice on the ends—at $2.99 in the discount store, they were a far cry from the pieces Caryn designed for her line, but she kind of liked them