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Kodiak: So is Clover.

I’d staked a claim on the old flatbed truck so I could pick up Lili. And I’d spent the last two nights avoiding Clover. In the past, we’d had a few good times, but I couldn’t climb into bed with her again after spending the night with Jaymi. Which was fucked because while I didn’t want entanglements, I would tangle the sheets again with my kid’s teacher.

Not that I could see her if I wanted to. According to my protective order, I couldn’t reach out.

“About ten minutes on your pie,” the bartender said as he passed by.

I lifted my head and glanced into the mirror behind him. In the reflection, the woman I couldn’t get out of my mind followed the tatted server into the alcove.

Chapter Six

Jaymi

My heart jumped into my throat. I stuttered in my steps, and I sucked in a little gasp. I’d convinced myself that my memory of him was distorted by a dark night and a darker need in me.

But the flutters low in my belly and the shivers over my skin reminded me of the way he’d whispered my name, the way he’d touched me, the way he’d…

“It’s open seating,” the server said. “You can grab a menu at the bar.”

“Thanks,” I said, but she’d already left me standing alone. The room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of us. I could turn and run, but I didn’t want to go home. I’d already been to the cemetery and lost my shit on Jeff. My eyes burned from tears, and my emotions were raw.

Maybe Brett wouldn’t recognize me. Stupid. Of course, he’d recognize me. He’d seen every inch of me. Red swollen eyes weren’t any different than two nights ago.

I rested a hand against my stomach to calm the chaos inside me. I wasn’t wearing a T-shirt and jeans, or something casual, like I would at school. I was dressed for the lawyer’s office. Hair in a twist. Subtle makeup. High-waisted trousers, a conservative shirt, and a linen jacket. Nothing to remind him of the woman he’d ravished in front of a fire.

I crossed the room, feeling his gaze linger. A hesitant smile curved his lips but didn’t reach his eyes. He folded papers and slid them into the inside pocket of his vest.

I took the seat farthest away from him, but still too close. Close enough to notice the hard clench of his angular jaw as he stared into his beer. His head barely lifted, just enough to catch me staring.

“Are we going to pretend we don’t know each other?” he asked.

I slipped the menu from a rack on the counter. “Yes.”

That was what I had to do because I’d been wrecked the night he found me. Tonight was worse. I stared at the menu, but the words blurred as my eyes filled with tears for the thousandth time. Angry tears. Pissed off, hate the world, hate my life tears that hadn’t stopped falling while I’d been at the cemetery. Obviously, I wasn’t going to be able to eat without purging this tsunami of emotions for everyone to see. This was a mistake. I should’ve gone home.

I’d wanted to prove to myself that Jeff hadn’t broken me. But he had.

I could feel Brett’s stare, but I refused to look away from the menu. Memories tasted as bitter as the beer I was about to drink. I hated beer, but Jeff loved a porter with a pizza piled high with meats. I preferred a simple Margherita pizza.

The bartender approached. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll get the special. The porter with a Wise Guy.” Jeff’s favorite. Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me, but I was here drinking his favorite beer and eating his favorite pizza. I wanted him to see my smirk from heaven. Screaming at the cemetery hadn’t helped. “And can I get a diet soda. Large.” I’d need something to wash down the taste of both.

My heart skipped a beat as Brett slid off his stool and, with his beer in his hand, approached. “I can do that.”

“Do what?” I whispered because his words made me think about his hands on me, about how he’d held my hips, and how he’d mapped my body with his touch.

He smiled, accentuating the dimple in his cheek. “Pretend we don’t know each other. My name’s Brett,” he said. “Everyone calls me Steele—or just about everyone.”

I lifted a brow. “Just about?” Because I hadn’t called him Steele. Who else called him by his first name?

“My parents call me Brett. At least, when we talk, which isn’t very often.” He tipped his glass to his lips. His neck stretched, and the tattoos inked into his skin seemed to come alive as he swallowed.

The bartender set the beer and glass of soda in front of me. “Why don’t you talk to them?” I asked.

“Lifestyle choices. I’ve found my share of trouble. At least, trouble always seems to find me. They went mostly no contact. I have a sister. Kora. She’s two years older. She works for one of the casinos in Vegas. Divorced. No kids. Living her best life. When Nat and I separated, I reached out. She rightfully blames me, said Nat and Lili deserve better.” He finished his beer. “She’s right.”

“It takes two people to end a marriage.” I sipped my soda. “I’m accepting my role in the failure of mine.” I shifted my gaze to his. “Did you get into a lot of trouble as a kid?”