Page 4

No kids, no relationship, no life. Guess she just had to accept it.

Trying not to feel sad and overwhelmed, Summer loaded the bags into her trunk and headed over to the donation drop. Ten minutes later, she tossed them into the bin and checked the time. It was already after five. She’d go home, feed Flossie, make herself presentable—which meant putting on some makeup and brushing out her rat’s nest hair—and then go drown her sorrows.

There were a few bars there in Silver Creek, but Summer decided to drive to Cielo Springs, the next town over. She didn’t want to see the usual crowd of down-on-their-luck townies or talk to anyone she knew, and she liked Old Glory. A veteran owned it, and the one time she’d been there she’d liked the vibe and nobody bothered her.

Why would they, Summer? No one is looking to pick up a fifty-two-year-old divorcée.

Which was fine by her. She’d be able to drink a couple Cosmos in peace and stuff her face with mozzarella sticks. But she wasn’t going to cry. She was done with tears.

It was a little after six when Summer planted her behind on a stool at Old Glory. The place was way busier than she’d expected it to be, but she grabbed the last seat at the end of the bar and waited patiently for the bartender.

People-watching was always enjoyable, and she was in no rush, so she toyed with a cocktail napkin as she took in her surroundings. A huge American flag hung on the wall behind the bar surrounded by shelves lined with liquor bottles. Two pretty blonde women bustled back and forth taking orders, but they had it under control. It wasn’t long before the one with curls that bounced against the tops of her shoulders came over with a friendly smile.

“Hi, what can I get you?” she asked, wiping a rag along the wet bar top. Summer opened a tab, ordering a Cosmo and mozzarella sticks. Then she grabbed a pretzel from a nearby bowl, crunching it as her gaze wandered over the room.

It was a lively group tonight, mostly tourists based on the bits and pieces of conversations she overheard. One group was animatedly retelling their experience whitewater rafting while another was planning a trip to a nearby national park.

She and her mom used to go on fun vacations together. Once they’d—

Stop. She refocused her mind on the present. Dwelling on the past only made her cry, and, dammit, she wasn’t going to cry tonight. She’d promised herself.

“Here you go.” The blonde bartender placed the Cosmo and a plate loaded with melty fried cheesy goodness in front of her with another sunny smile. “If you need anything else, I’m Lottie.”

God, the woman looked incandescently happy. Beyond radiant. As Summer wondered how anyone could look so joyful while at work, a big bear of a man several seats down leaned over the bar, grabbed her apron strings and reeled her in for a kiss. Ahh, that’s why.

She couldn’t help but watch their interaction. He whispered something in her ear, and she threw her head back and laughed. Curls bouncing, she cupped his face in her small hands, and the way they looked at each other with so much love made Summer’s chest tighten.

She had never known that kind of love with a man. Certainly not with Scott. She’d always been a responsible adult, and he’d been a screw-up, in life and their relationship. No spur of the moment kisses melted her in public, and things were always lukewarm in the bedroom.

The other blonde sidled up and said something to the man seated beside the big man. A smile lit his face and he reached for her hand. He had dark hair and she’d noticed his ice-blue eyes all the way from her corner seat. They all appeared to be in or around their forties and high on love.

Maybe if she got a job bartending there, she’d find a good man, too. Too bad she didn’t know how to make drinks, and her social skills were seriously rusty. With a sigh, she stuffed a mozzarella stick into her mouth and continued perusing the room.

It wasn’t long before her attention was drawn to the back corner table where a boisterous group was gathered. Lively energy and enthusiastic conversation surrounded them. They appeared around her age, mostly paired off into couples, and she could sense their teasing banter and jokes as they drank and laughed. She longed for a circle of friends like that, and she caught herself smiling. She missed the conversations, the jokes and girls’ night out. Her two closest friends from Silver Creek had moved away years ago and settled in different areas of the country. They were both happily married with children, so other than Christmas cards, they’d pretty much lost touch.

Her eyes moved around the table of friends, then abruptly stopped when her gaze slammed into a pair of bright blue eyes belonging to a very attractive man. For a moment too long, they stared at each other. Her heart pounded harder, and she reached for her drink before averting her gaze.

Holy crap, he’s good-looking. Sandy-colored hair that looked a little long and temples edged with silver, which meant he was age-appropriate. Hooray! Broad shoulders and, other than those incredible blue eyes, she couldn’t see much more because he was sitting down. She swallowed down the rest of her drink and motioned to Lottie, indicating she wanted another. Is he with somebody? Very nonchalantly, she looked back over and saw three obvious couples and—

He was still staring at her.

She jerked her gaze away as though he’d burned her, picked up a mozzarella stick and bit into it. Apparently, her social skills weren’t the only thing that was rusty. She’d seemingly forgotten how to flirt, too.

Chewing thoughtfully, it occurred to her that he was probably looking at someone else. Why would he be checking her out when there was a bar full of attractive women? Granted, she looked good for her age, and she knew she could pass for younger than fifty-two, but she could also tell he was years younger than her. Early forties maybe? He could easily pick up a thirty-year-old, and probably with minimal effort. Women liked silver foxes. Although he looked more like a silver cub. On the verge, but not quite full-blown silver fox territory.

Yes, the older men got, the more attractive they seemed to get. Society called dashing older men silver foxes, and women got dubbed cougars or, worse yet, MILFs. Such a double standard. While aging men were complimented as distinguished, older women dating younger men were usually painted as predatory or desperate.

She might be sad and lonely, but she wasn’t desperate. However, she was curious, and her attention floated back over to the corner table. He was talking to the man seated next to him. Then he poured more whiskey in a glass, took a sip and turned in his chair, locking gazes with her.

When his lips lifted in a crooked smile, her heart crashed against her ribs. Turning in her chair, checking all around her, she saw no other woman. Which meant one very important thing.

The almost-silver fox was smiling at her.

Chapter three

Lex was about to fall so hard, he could already feel the rug burn on his knees.

He couldn’t stop staring at the woman sitting at the bar. His joystick might be compromised, but his eyesight was twenty-twenty. And she was stunningly beautiful. Shoulder-length brown hair with hints of red, soft brown eyes that kept fluttering his way, high cheekbones and kissable lips. She might be around his age, possibly younger, and she possessed that look—the one that said she’d seen and done it all, and now she was a little bit tired and slightly jaded. How could he not notice it? It was the same expression he saw every time he looked in a mirror.