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Telling Channing about John wasn’t something I was ready to do.
“So what’s the story between you and Ty Shaw?”
Okay, that came out of nowhere. I paused for a moment, staring at him with what was probably a befuddled look.
“The story?” I asked. I was hoping to stall for time so I could figure out why in the world Channing had asked about Ty . . . and how in the world I would respond to that question.
He laughed. “I don’t think it was a coincidence he was out checking the fence when I came and picked you up earlier, do you? Is there something I should know there? A past between you two?”
I forced myself not to laugh. “A past between us? As in a romantic past?”
Channing nodded.
“No, not at all. Ty is a friend and that’s it. I mean, if you can even call what we share a friendship. I’m his brother’s wife’s best friend, so we have to be somewhat nice to each other, but I’m pretty sure Ty can’t stand me.”
With a raised brow, Channing slowly let a small smile play across his face. “Well, then you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you or gets jealous if another guy is talking to you.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re completely mistaken. Trust me.” I desperately needed to change the course of this conversation, like yesterday. “So, shall we move on to that drink at the Blue Moose?”
He looked at me with a slightly surprised expression on his face. Yes, I knew that was a drastic change of subject, but Ty was also on my list of things I didn’t care to talk about with Channing. But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that Channing had brought up Ty, especially if he thought he’d seen an attraction there. In all honesty, Ty was a subject that I just wasn’t ready to talk about. His rejection still left a bitterness in my mouth.
“Sure, the check is paid for, so I’m ready to go whenever you are. Did you like the quiche florentine?”
“Yes! It was amazing. How was the pasta?”
“It was great. I can safely say I am full.”
Channing stood and took my coat, prompting me to stand and allow him to put it on me again. As we made our way out of the restaurant, I tried to push all thoughts of Ty Shaw from my brain.
Tried . . . and failed.
When we stepped into the Blue Moose, I took a quick look around. No Ty, but I did see Tanner. I wanted to groan internally. Could I not go anywhere in this town and not see one of the Shaw brothers? I mean, it wasn’t that small of a town.
“What would you like to drink?” Channing asked, taking my hand in his as he walked us toward the bar. My stomach did a little jump at the contact. It had been a long time since a man had touched me in any sort of intimate way. It wasn’t like butterflies in the stomach, but at least my libido was waking up a little. She recognized a man’s touch and liked it. Score one for me.
“I’ll just have any local craft beer they have on tap.”
He winked, and I couldn’t help but smile. It looked like the evening was back on the positive again.
“Do you want to sit at the bar or at a table?” Channing asked as he motioned for Ralph, the bartender, to order.
“How about I go grab a table?” I replied while I gave his arm a slight squeeze. He smiled, and I turned and set out for a table. It didn’t take me long to find one in the back corner. It wasn’t tucked away, so it wouldn’t appear we were attempting to hide, but it was a good distance from the dance floor and had a clear view of almost the entire bar.
“Here you are. I was looking all over for you,” Channing said as he placed the beer down in front of me.
“Sorry, this one’s sort of out of the way, yet we can still people watch and talk without competing with the music.”
He sat down and gifted me with another wink and grin.
Another stomach jump . . . okay, this was promising. My body was certainly on board with Channing and his sexy little winks. I just needed to get my brain on board as well.
“Do you like to dance?” he asked, glancing out over the dance floor.
“I love to dance. I’m pretty good at the two-step, if I do say so myself.”
He laughed. “Well, I figured, since you’re from the South. No one would doubt it with that accent of yours.”
I felt my cheeks heat. He didn’t have to know I’d worked for years on my southern drawl, much to Lincoln’s endless eye rolls when I threw out the words fixin’ or y’all.
