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“Okay, well, I dated Dennis through college. I never moved in with him, though. He wanted to, but I liked having my own place. I shared an apartment with my best friend, Lyla. And trust me, this is working its way back around to what brought me to live here full time.”
“I’m riveted.” He chuckles and sips his water. “Seriously. Keep talking.”
“It’s a juicy story.” I waggle my eyebrows and sip my margarita. “So, we graduated from college, and I was kind of lost. Now that I look back on it, that’s exactly what I was. Lost. I didn’t want to go to law school. I was working in retail during the day and as a bartender at night. It was long hours, sometimes eighteen-hour days.”
I stop to think about that.
“Actually, I’m not going to complain about my long hours at the flower shop anymore because it’s way better than that.”
“It sounds challenging.”
“It was horrible. I’m not afraid of work if I enjoy the job, but those two jobs were not fun. Anyway, after one particularly grueling shift at the bar, I decided that I didn’t want to go straight home. Lyla told me she was going to host a party at our apartment, and I’d just finished serving drunk college kids all evening, you know?”
“Sure. You don’t want to deal with that when you just want to crash.”
“Exactly. So, I went to Dennis’s apartment. Figured I’d crash at his place. I was so tired.” I frown, remembering that night. “I knew when I walked in that something was…different. I just had a feeling in my gut. And then I found clothes in the hallway, and when I got to the bedroom?—”
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head ruefully.
“They weren’t having sex,” I reply, remembering it through my foggy memory. “They were sleeping. Out cold. Dennis and Lyla.”
“The best friend?”
“The same one. I stood there for a few minutes, just looking at them, and I was numb. I left the key to his apartment on the kitchen counter and went home. I packed my things, loaded up my car, left that key on the kitchen counter, and decided that I didn’t want that life. I didn’t want them. Bitterroot Valley was always home for me, so I came here with Aunt Paula, and she took me in without a moment of hesitation. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Did you ever speak to the two assholes again?”
“Nope.” I drain the last of my drink. “I ghosted them.”
He lifts a sexy eyebrow. “Really?”
“Really. They tried to call or text to see what was up. Especially Dennis, because he wanted those political connections, but I never replied.” I frown. “I shouldn’t have had that second drink. It’s a truth serum, and that’s not good.”
“It’s pretty good from where I’m sitting.” He smiles, and I lean my chin on my hand, gazing over at him.
“You’re pretty.” My voice sounds all dreamy and soft.
“Yep, that second drink is kicking in.”
“I would probably tell you that if I was sober, too, so I’m not embarrassed. And I’m not that tipsy.”
I take a deep breath, and we chat for a few more minutes. Chase pays the bill, and then we’re back in his truck and headed for my house.
“It occurs to me,” I say as we reach my front door, “that we talked all about me tonight. You didn’t tell me about your sordid past and the girl you found in bed with your best friend.”
He smirks and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but I have other tales to tell on the next date when I take you to Ciao.”
“That’s a deal, then.”
I really, really want him to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead again, and when he pulls away, I frown up at him.
“Am I repulsive to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“The kissing thing. Don’t get me wrong, the forehead kisses are nice, and something out of a movie, but you haven’t actually”—I gesture between the two of us—“kissed me.”
“Are you repulsive?” he asks, shaking his head. “Fuck no. It was all I could do to walk away from you last night.”
