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Chapter One
“Yee-hah!”The cowboylet ’er riplike a bronc rider at the Pendleton Round-Up as the country band picked up the pace for the western swing dancers on the floor. Jordan should have known it was her best friend, Liz’s cowboy. Not hers literally, but he’d been buying her drinks all night and monopolizing her company. Liz appeared equally enthusiastic as the good-looking hunk in a black Stetson spun her in a three-foot circle in the center of the dance floor. The thought of all that booze sloshing around in her friend’s stomach made Jordan slightly nauseous.
Katie, Jordan’s other companion for the evening, sat across the smoky barroom. Her ex had shown up and whisked her to a secluded table where they were currently involved in stomach-turning displays of affection. He was clearly hoping to get laid tonight. And, based on how Katie hung on his every word, he might get his wish. Jordan loved her, but her taste in men could use some work. Add alcohol, and it was almost time for an intervention.
The bar was crazy busy, even for a Friday night. Ranch hands from the larger outfits had made it to town. Exhibit A—Liz’s current companion and his table of friends who’d been asking Jordan to dance every time the band started a new set. She’d shaken her head each time, politely adding, “This one’s too fast for me.” Luckily, the band hadn’t played a slow number since she and her friends arrived because Jordan didn’t slow dance with just anyone.
So why, exactly, did I agree to come? Right. Katie and Liz hounded me until I said yes.
Since grade school, the three of them had been besties and now worked together in the engineering department of Meta Technology, glorified IT positions, where they stared at computer screens for eight hours a day. Your basic, boring, dead-end jobs. Still, Mark Zuckerberg dropping a data center in the middle of their small town of Prineville, Oregon, was the most progressive event in decades. And working with her two best friends always made her smile.
Maybe that’s why she’d decided to give the night-out a chance. At least her friends appeared to be enjoying themselves, which meant she wasn’t bringing them down to her morose level...yet. They’d had her best interests at heart when they talked her into going out with them. “Jordan, it’s time you started living again.” Katie had placed her arm around Jordan’s shoulders. “I know losing your dad was hard. It sucks, but he wouldn’t want you to give up on life. He would tell you to smile more, go out, and have fun. Your father would worry if he knew how you go to work, come home, and shut yourself in that house all alone.”
Liz had joined their hug. “Honey, that fucking drunk driver—pardon my French—took your dad. Don’t let him destroy you too.”
Of course, they’d been right, but shewasstarting to get out. “What do you mean? I’m going for a drive in the mountains with Alex next weekend,” she’d argued.
“Alex Halstead?” Liz had huffed sarcastically. “Honey, he ain’t nearly good enough for you. I swear, something’s wrong with that man. Up here.” She’d tapped a long fingernail against her head.
Cancer had taken Jordan’s mother fourteen years ago. She’d been twelve when her dad took on the job of both parents and became her whole world. The hit-and-run driver had left him in a hospital bed with no brain activity and machines keeping him alive. An only child, the responsibility for choosing the day of his death had fallen to Jordan.
The trial that followed had broken her. Seeing the repeat offender who’d killed him sentenced to eleven years in prison hadn’t brought her dad back or dulled her grief. With no family and few friends, she’d found her solace in books and photography.
Liz and Katie weren’t having any of it, not letting a day go by that they didn’t trample all over her alone time. Recently, she’d started getting out, seeing more people, and even going on a few dates. Still, her heart wasn’t in it, so when her friends had come up with the idea for an evening out at McKay Corral, she’d flatly refused.
In the end, Jordan had let them convince her to come. They were trying to help, and getting out more was probably the right thing for her, but pretending to have a good time wasn’t in the cards for tonight. Not even a honky-tonk band pumping out foot-stomping music could lift her melancholy mood.
Within thirty minutes of arriving, her friends had abandoned her in pursuit of male company. Jordan didn’t blame them—they had come for a good time. But she felt like a freak, sitting alone at the table, a half-finished margarita staring her down. She wasn’t ready and had known how out-of-place she would feel. It’d been six months, but it seemed like her world had shattered only yesterday.
Maybe another drink will do the trick.She grabbed her glass, chugged the sweet liquid, and held up the empty for the waitress to see. Roxy, one of the servers she’d gotten to know before her mourning period, nodded with a smile and headed toward the bar.
As Jordan’s gaze swept the crowd, she did a double-take on a deliciously handsome black man a couple of tables away. He was thirty-something with flawlessly chiseled features, clean-shaven, with close-cropped hair. He was tall, judging by his long legs stretched out beneath the table. Muscled thighs filled out his jeans while the sleeves of his black T-shirt appeared almost too small for his biceps. And his chest was solid and sculpted even as he relaxed against the back of his chair.
Whoa. This is new.She gave in to curiosity for a moment, allowing her gaze to travel upward from his chest, over his strong chin, and stopping on his eyes. Eyes that were staring straight back at her.
In the space of a heartbeat, she noted his inquisitive scrutiny, the slow smile materializing on his mouth, and his slight nod in her direction as he raised his glass in a salute. The next instant, she quickly shifted her gaze to land on the blond and buff man he sat with, whose matching smile and nod generated the realization that she was smiling at them—a full-on, appreciative, where-have-you-been-hiding smile.Shoot! They’re going to think I’m coming on to them.She wiped the expression from her face, dropped her gaze to her tabletop, and started picking at the corners of her coaster.
When Roxy brought her drink, Jordan visited with her for a moment, using the opportunity to peek at the table of hotties. The two men were talking earnestly and not paying her the slightest attention. For the barest second, disappointment occupied the void within her.What in heaven’s name am I thinking? I’m certainly not here looking for a man.
When Roxy scooted off to wait on a rowdy table in the corner, Jordan tasted her drink, licked the salt from her lips, and dug her cell phone from her purse. She wasn’t expecting any missed calls because everyone who would call was already in the bar. The text from Alex stole her breath a moment before jitters woke the nervous butterflies in her stomach. Alex was a nice guy who’d helped her change a flat tire in the parking lot at work. He was easy to talk to, and they’d quickly become friends, meeting for coffee, going to lunch a couple of times, and dinner once. Neither of them was looking for a relationship.
Had a great time with you Wednesday. Plans changed, and I won’t be going out of town this weekend. Don’t want to wait until next Saturday to see you again. Went by your house. Where are you? Not out on a date, I hope. Alex
Jordan stared at the screen. Why did the note sound distinctly more-than-friend-like? Was it a lack of context and body language that lent the text a possessive overtone? She scanned it again.Not out on a date, I hope.He was probably just joking around. People fired off texts all day long without much thought to how the recipient might interpret them. Regardless, she'd have to set him straight if it turned out he wanted to be more than friends. She was probably overreacting. It must be Liz’s apparent distrust of Alex that had Jordan jumping to conclusions.Yeah, that’s it.
Sorry I missed you. Girls’ night out. I’ll be around tomorrow afternoon if you’d like to call.
There. A subtle reminder that it’s polite to call before showing up at someone’s door. Hopefully, he’d take the hint. She watched for the three bouncing dots to appear while he typed a reply, but after a full minute and a half with no response, Jordan dropped the phone back in her purse. The knot in her stomach remained, leaving her second-guessing whether she’d mistaken his teasing for controlling behavior.
Jordan looked forward to their drive in the mountains next weekend, though it would be bittersweet. Hiking had been her dad’s favorite pastime, and she’d loved going with him. An adventure into the mountains with someone else would be a test.Baby steps.
She took a big swallow of her drink and watched Liz on the dance floor with her cowboy. Distracted, Jordan barely escaped sloshing the margarita on her shirt when the chair beside her abruptly slid back, and the weaselly guy who’d asked her to dance three times in the past two hours plopped onto the seat.
“Hey, sweet thing—wanna dance?” He slammed his beer glass on the table and leaned toward her. “You’re the only woman in this dump I haven’t danced with. Can’t leave with a blank spot on my record.” He spoke clearly, considering the alcohol glaze in his eyes.
Jordan caught herself before rolling her eyes, forcing a pleasant smile instead. “I’m sorry—”
“Name’s Kyle.”
