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Garrett grunted and uncurled his fingers. Then he curled them straight back up again. “I haven’t been on a date in over a decade. I wouldn’t even have a fucking clue what to do.”

Smith turned to look at me rather pointedly.

“What?” I asked, panicking all over again.

“I’ll make some calls and talk to some people,” said Garrett. “Will that do?”

Smith sighed. Again.

“I think he means for you to actually leave the safety and solitude of your woodland fortress.” I bent down and scratched Gene behind the ears. It soothed me even if he slept through it. “Right?”

“I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but what she said,” said Smith.

Garrett swore.

“Do I really have to go on some more about how disappointed in your life choices Grace would be?” asked Smith. “The only reason I could even get in here tonight was because you used the same damn gate code you had in L.A.”

“Wait. You wouldn’t have let him in?” I blurted out the question with nil thought. As you do after a night of drinking. I might not be slurring my words, but my brain was definitely not fully functional. “Are you serious?”

Our host said nothing.

As much as I hated to get loud, sometimes there was no other choice. “Garrett!”

“Of course I would have let him in,” answered the man.

“You sure about that?” asked Smith.

Garrett’s lips were a thin, unhappy line.

“I know your band broke up and I’m sure it’s all very complicated. But isn’t Smith one of your oldest friends?” My mouth would not stop. “And what about Gene? He loves you so much and he’s getting on in age. Don’t you want to be with him in his twilight years?”

Smith just sat back and waited. Guess I’d made his argument for him. Hooray for somewhat drunken and occasionally loud me.

For a long moment, no one said a thing. Then Garrett licked his lips. “Like you said, it’s complicated.”

There was a world of hurt surrounding these people. And nothing I said was helping. I finished off my third glass of wine before getting to my feet. Because it would have been rude to do otherwise. Poor Gene opened one eye and gave me a tired look. Then with a heartfelt doggy sigh, he wandered over to flop down next to Garrett’s chair.

When I stood, I swayed ever so slightly. Given the lack of any strong winds, there was a small chance I was somewhat more inebriated than I’d thought. “Thank you for the wine, Smith, and it was lovely to meet you.”

Garrett looked at me and frowned. Though he was always frowning. Nothing new about that. But why whatever expression on my face had bought on an even bigger and better case of the scowls on his, I had no idea. It’s not like the man could possibly be interested in what I thought.

“Great,” said Garrett. “Now you’re disappointed in me too.”

I cocked my head. “You care what I think?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” asked Garrett, turning to his friend.

“I can’t,” answered Smith simply.

“I know, you made her a promise.” Garrett downed the remaining scotch in his glass. “What if I don’t date someone? Would that appease you?”

Smith’s brows reached for the sky. “Please explain.”

“She . . .” He cleared his throat and started again. “Grace wanted me to go out and do things, right? Have a life and socialize. If I do that much, will you get off my back?”

Smith nodded.

“All right then. I’ll do that with her.” And he pointed at me. #wtf

Garrett skulked on into the general store the next morning just before eight. The baseball cap was back in place, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. Of course, drowsy and disheveled looked like high art on him. I could only pray I’d applied enough concealer to appear half human. He waited while I finished serving a red-faced teenager. The kid took her purchases and bolted just as soon as her card was approved. A couple of other local teenagers waited outside for their friend. There was much giggling going on.

“That happen often?” asked Garrett, leaning his hip against the counter.

Out front of the store, the poor kid’s friends were now howling with laughter.

“What?” I asked. “You never lost a bet and had to buy a cucumber, a pack of condoms, and some lube?”

Today’s frown was more contemplative than cranky. “No. Have you?”

“No, I haven’t. It’s pretty inventive, though, isn’t it?” I smiled, and even that hurt. My frontal lobe was seriously displeased with my recent life choices. “I am never drinking with rock stars ever again.”

He almost smiled. It was a close thing.

“Coffee?”

He nodded.

Fortunately for everyone, I was able to work the machine while both half asleep and hungover. “I know why I’m awake. But why are you up this early?”

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