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All except one.
Annie took another long draw of her beer. “How many times have I told you? Men are afraid of me.” At least, that’s what she told herself. She could handle assholes. But being the butt of the joke got old after a while.
“They aren’t afraid of you, they’re afraid of what you may do to them,” Jen said. “And they should be when they’re douche bags like Ricky Thrown,” she called loudly in said douche bag’s direction. “Remember that time you kneed Tim Riggs in the balls for trying to feel you up?”
“That was six months ago.” And Annie had found out later it was just another “bet.” Apparently, to get the prize money, Tim had to ask her out and cop a feel. “They all still act like they’re in high school.”
Even as Annie defended herself, she knew it was more than the handsy Tim Riggs or pushy Anthony Swank. It was her whole life. She saw what men could do. She’d witnessed it with her mama. They could hook you, on more than one thing, and turn you into a mindless fool, until you agreed to follow them anywhere. Something she had no interest in.
“Maybe we can try a different approach,” Jen said, giving a little pinky wave to someone across the room. “Those guys over there look to be
from out of town. Why don’t you try flirting?”
Annie raised a brow. “Flirting?”
“Yeah. You know, smile, lean in, and casually touch. Talk like this.” She dropped her voice nearly an octave, and Annie had to hold back a laugh.
“You go ahead with that. I’ll just be here at the bar.”
Jen stood, and before she walked over to Mr. Pinky Wave, she hugged Annie. “I love you. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.” She patted Jen’s back and drew away. “What are you waiting for? Go get your cowboy.”
She smiled, and Jen skipped off.
Finishing her beer, Annie set the empty bottle on the bar and did everything she could not to think of the one man she did want. The only one who never made a sport of her humiliation, at least publicly. Luke Jacobs.
“I’m so stupid,” she mumbled.
She had known that Luke’s plan had always been to leave town. He was four years older, educated, from a good family. But that night, when she’d seen him in the bar, she’d been desperate for an escape.
Her mother had cleaned out Annie’s savings and taken off that morning, causing the bank to back out of her loan until she had more start-up capital. It added an extra year to earn back what her mother had stolen.
She’d gone to the bar to get lost. Then Luke had shown up, a perfect distraction to help her forget. Make her feel safe. Wanted. Just for one night.
Instead of leaving the next week like he was scheduled to, he left the next morning. Not a word, a call, or a note. Just gone. Leaving Annie to wake up alone, in her own kind of private humiliation.
A lifetime of growing up in the same town had culminated in one night of intense passion she’d never thought could exist between two people. Then nothing. For years she’d put up with pricks and losers. Dealt with their taunts and rude remarks and general judgment of her. But Luke was different. Always had been. He was her friend, who stood up for her, then pushed for more, and she gave in. Like a naive little girl, she’d let him have her and, my God, did he take everything she had.
Shaking off her thoughts of Luke, Annie crossed her legs and tugged down her skirt a little. She had bigger things to worry about now. Like her café. Because it was hers. One hundred percent, succeed or fail, all hers. Everyone in town might not like her, but her food was amazing. That she had confidence in.
Nothing could stand in her way now.
Jen rushed back into the seat she’d just occupied and clasped Annie’s shoulders.
“You okay?” Annie asked.
Jen nodded, but her eyes locked on something over Annie’s shoulder.
“Uh, remember how you don’t get pissy around harvest season, you don’t have a pathetic sex-a-versary, and tonight is a fun celebration?”
“Yeah …”
Jen’s gaze came back to Annie. “Good, hold on to those thoughts. You’re going to need them.”
“Why?” She turned and looked, and there, standing in the doorway in a white T-shirt, well-loved jeans, and way too much male swagger to be legal, was her answer.
“Luke Jacobs.”
