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I didn’t do the whole kids thing, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be around when everything went to shit.
Stetson was avoiding everyone tonight, thanks to Archer and Delaney’s party. I’d left the party, but didn’t seek him out. Maybe I’d find someone who wasn’t looking for commitment I could have some fun with.
I rounded the wall blocking off the entry and was greeted by polished wood—a shiny lacquered bar top, tables that were slabs of polished wood with red-and-yellow lacquer inside, and chairs that matched the wood tones. Beams soared across the ceiling. It’d overwhelm the senses if poker and blackjack machines didn’t add pops of color and break up the browns.
There were several people older than me, but all in groups. Rattler’s happy hour went longer than other bars in the county, siphoning people from Crocus Valley until happy hour was over.
“Hey, Holden. What can I get you?” The server behind the bar had been the librarian in my elementary school growing up. I’d joked with her that working in a school was good training for when the crowd in this place got unruly.
“Busch Light.” I wasn’t looking to get lost in a bottle. As much as I liked my house, the place was quiet. It was nice to be somewhere with people, with some action, but where I didn’t have to beon.
I slid onto a stool two down from a woman I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t get a look at her face, but I liked the rest of her. A generous flare at the hips, amplified by having one leg crossed over the other. Her light-brown hair was piled into a knot at the top of her head. She wore jeans and a formfitting fleece jacket. There was something about her that made it seem like she didn’t fit.
When she glanced up, she scanned the bar and sighed, looking at her phone again as if she couldn’t think of anything else to do but didn’t want to sit and stare at the wall of stacked booze across the bar in front of her.
Her gaze shifted and landed on me. Shit. I was staring. I adopted a slightly apologetic look. “Sorry for the cliché, but you’re not from around here.”
AnIs this guy serious?look crossed her face a moment before she laughed. A loud, free sound. She didn’t bother with a coy giggle; she went all out.
I liked that.
And seeing more of her confirmed my suspicion that she didn’t fit. Hardly any makeup, if any. Maybe a swipe across her lashes. Underneath her light jacket, she wore a simple shirt. Her cleavage was tucked away for the night.
Damn. From what I could tell, she had nice tits. An overflowing handful.
I was a tits guy. Loved kneading and squeezing and licking and—
I shifted. This would get out of hand, and I’d done nothing more than give her a cringe line.
“You’re right,” she said as she caught her breath. “I’m not from around here. I knew it was obvious.”
Her voice was rich. She didn’t bother with breathy or light or sultry. What I saw with this woman was what I got.
I lifted my beer as a form of greeting. “Holden.”
She lifted a brow. She did the same with her bottle of Bud Light. I thought she might be close to my age. A lot of the women I’d picked up lately had been younger. Twenty-five wasn’t a major age gap from my thirty, but with the wrong person? Dating shouldn’t make me feel ancient.
“Em,” she said, and it took me a moment to realize that was her name.
I lifted a brow. “Just Em?”
She laughed again and took a drink of her beer, waiting until she swallowed before she said, “‘Just Em’ pretty much describes it.”
My gaze stuck on what I’d seen when she lifted the bottle. A tan line on her left hand where a wedding ring usually sat.
She saw me notice it. “Divorced.” She cocked her head. “Newly divorced, so now’s your chance to run.”
It was my turn to laugh. I hated drama. Dreaded conflict. I stayed far away and did what I could to prevent it. I’d had enough of it growing up, and I didn’t need to invite more.
But I could handle a divorced woman. Newly divorced was better in a way—for me, not for her, unless she was grateful to be newly divorced. For me, it meant she wasn’t looking for another Mr. Em. She wasn’t into anything serious, and she was sick as hell of the drama that came with marriages breaking up. And, huge bonus, she hadn’t mentioned any kids.
It meant there was a chance Em wanted to have a good time. And what a coincidence, I wanted a good time with her. I smiled and slid my beer on the bar as I moved to the stool between us. “I’m not running anywhere, Em.”
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