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She’d heard it was the biggest, wildest night spot in Calamity. Divided into three sections, it had a packed restaurant, a lively bar, and a mechanical bull that drew a huge crowd.
Lou sat across the café table from her, a flickering votive in the center. Legs stretched out in front of him, he sipped a frothy beer. “Most nights, there’s a live band and some two-stepping.” He glanced under the table. “Hope you wore your boots.”
“That sounds fun, but no. Unfortunately, the only shoes I brought were meant for walking around Paris.” And her chef clogs because she’d signed up for an all-day baking class.
He cocked his head. “You chose Calamity over Paris?”
“Well, long story, but…I was supposed to go there on my honeymoon.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Yeah. I ditched the groom five minutes before the ceremony.”
“Ouch.”
“Nope. We’re not feeling bad for him. He did something awful. It’s all on him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How long were you together?”
“Fifteen years. On and off.”
His thumb rubbed the condensation on his glass. “And how does Jaime figure into this story?”
“He was a groomsman. My ex sent him to find me.”
He sat up, dragging his boots under the chair. “It just gets better and better. So, Jaime whisked you away to his ranch. Interesting. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s going on between you two?”
She would never betray Jaime’s trust—even if he’d hurt her. “Not much. There’s an obvious attraction, but neither of us is looking for a relationship.”
“You wanna make him jealous? ‘Cause I’m down to play.”
She smiled. She liked this guy. “As great as that sounds, I’m not a game player. Like I said, I’m only here for the summer, and I’m working my ass off. I don’t want drama. I just want to make money.” A squeal had her glancing toward the mechanical bull where a woman was holding on for dear life. “And maybe have a little fun.”
“Gotcha.”
The waitress approached the table. “What can I get you guys? Another drink, or do you want some food?”
“I’m okay for now,” she said. “But thank you.” As the woman filled their water glasses, Grace scanned the bar. She wondered if Lorelei Calloway ever played here, but before she could ask, her gaze snagged on red hair.
Alarm rang through her body. It was the woman from the festival, and she was standing right next to Jaime.That fucker.
So, he is hooking up with her.
In a black T-shirt and worn jeans, Jaime stood a head taller than the others, his smile so devastating she felt a rumble in her bones. God, he looked so handsome, so confident.
Why does he affect me like this?
It doesn’t make sense.He’s just a guy.
Yeah, a guy who makes his daughter French toast before school and reads to her in the hammock in his front yard as the sun goes down. She’d gotten a glimpse of them snuggled together, him pointing at pictures, and Kinsley giggling.
A guy who takes care of his family—Abby told her what he’d done for all of them, putting them through school, flying out to LA to get one of the brothers in rehab. He’d built that house for his parents.
He cared. He was generous. But really, it was his intensity that did it for her. He was a wildly passionate man.
Who suppresses it.
Let’s not forget that.
