“So…” I say, changing the subject when he refuses to say anything else, “how many of your ex-girlfriends are in here right now? It’s a small town, right? You’re kind of stuck being around people you’ve dated.”
“I know it’s a shock,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “but I don’t have that many ex-girlfriends. Most of them are from surroundin’ towns.”
Taken aback, I tilt my head at his sudden shift in attitude. “No one you’ve dated is in the bar right now? Not even someone you went out on one date with?”
“Only one.”
“Who?” I ask, eyes wide as I look around, trying to guess which girl is his type.
I want to see the woman who captured Rhett’s heart. As much as I hate to admit it, I want to see if I stand a chance. Men don’t usually stray from the type of woman they’re interested in, and this might help settle the war of whether or not Rhett’s interested in me or just being friendly. Even if she’s a bottle blonde, I know I stand a chance. Please let her be blonde.
“She’s the one on Everett’s arm.” He doesn’t look in any specific direction, so I search for the other man who looks like Carter.
My heart sinks when I see a redhead. A redhead with pale skin and freckles and hazel eyes. Her hair looks to be dyed based on the deep shade it is, but her eyebrows are a natural red-tone. She’s taller than me by a good two inches, and she’s thin without many curves. Aside from Darla, I’m not sure there’s a woman more opposite from me in here.
“That would be Honor Phillips.”
The woman keeps turning and glaring at me, and I look at Rhett. “I don’t think Honor likes me very much.”
“Probably not.”
“Why? Did you break her heart?”
Rhett chuckles dryly and takes another drink. “I’m not the heartbreaker in this town.”
“She broke your heart?” It makes me both sad and angry, and I lock eyes with her for a brief moment.
Sighing, he finally looks at me. “I was head over heels for her. I liked her for her. She made some mistakes in high school, and not many others could or would look past her reputation. No one wanted more than a night with her. Except me.”
My stomach flips thinking of them together, but I don’t interrupt. I just keep staring into his sad eyes.
“We were pretty serious for about six months, and I brought her home to meet Mom and Pop. She just used me to help boost her image, and once she felt redeemed enough, she left me. Then immediately started datin’ Everett.”
My jaw drops. “Wait, is that why you’re not really friends with him?”
“We’re friends, just not close friends. We don’t really talk that much anymore, though. And we don’t speak when Honor’s around. The truth is, I was just a pit stop on her drive. Everett was the destination.”
“I don’t understand,” I say and glance over to see Honor still shooting hate-filled looks my way. “And why does she look like she wants to stab me with one of those little umbrellas in her drink?”
This makes him chuckle, and I lighten a bit. “She probably does. She has a thing about her exes with other women. Even though she never really wanted me, she doesn’t want anyone else to have me, either. And she really doesn’t want to see me with someone prettier than her.”
“That’s just… stupid.”
This time, he actually laughs. “I think so, too. Bein’ tossed to the side for someone better isn’t new for me. I’m everyone’s friend. The nice guy. And normally, I don’t hate it, but I’m gettin’ to the age where I want to be settled. Get married and have a kid or two. Or seventeen.”
My nose wrinkles. “That’s just mean to do to a woman. I mean, sure, making them would be a blast, but woof.”
The idea petrifies me, but he laughs again and bumps my arm with his elbow. “I’m kiddin’. I’m too old to have seventeen kids, anyway. Unless there were triplets or somethin’ in there.”
“I can’t even imagine being pregnant with triplets. I think I’d be as wide as I am tall,” I say with a horrified laugh. “I’d need to be rolled around everywhere like Violet inWilly Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”
“I think you’d look beautiful pregnant,” he says, his eyes on his beer.
“You see, those are the types of comments I’m talking about. It sounds like flirting, but then you refuse to look at me when you say it, so I can’t read you.”
Nodding, he swirls his beer in his glass. “It doesn’t matter much either way, does it? I mean, let’s be honest and put all our cards on the table, Brynlee. You’re a thirteen on a scale of ten. At least. I’m a six in good lightin’. Most women look for someone who’s a seven or higher. I’m the friend. A nice guy, but not one a woman sees themself settlin’ down with. As much as I wish I could be a jerk like others, it’s just not who I am.”
Wow. His interpretation of his self-worth makes me sad. “First of all, I’m not a thirteen on this scale you have. Trust me, I know women far prettier than I will ever be. And I hate the number thirteen. For the record. Secondly, I know men who most women would consider a ten out of ten, but the moment they open their mouths, they drop down to a two, at best.”
