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“I like you.”
“Touché, little brother.”
He places a hand on his chest and winces. “Ouch. Little is never a good thing to be called when you’re flirting with a woman.”
“You don’t stand a chance with me.” I take a sip of my wine and eye the handsome bachelor. Light hair, dark eyes, and all the features that would make any woman swoon. Too bad he’s not my type. “There are only two reasons a man would stay away from his hometown for as many years as you have. One is because he’s running from the law, but your brother is a sergeant in this county, so I know that’s not the case. The other is running from unrequited love. I’d be a fool to flirt with a man whose heart is already taken.”
His brows rise with an impressed grimace. “You’re good.”
“I know.”
“What’s your story? Why hasn’t a catch like you gone for a walk down the aisle yet?”
My stomach churns momentarily, and my breath hitches, but not in a good way. It’s funny how your body reacts to situations before your brain has a chance to catch up.
I lift my chin and smile with my cheeks tight. “Why walk down an aisle when I can run down the freeway?”
I raise my glass, and Cade clinks his with mine.
“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Tara. Enjoy your evening.”
I drink more of my wine as I watch him walk away. My fingers run along the smooth wood of the bar as I let out a deep breath, giving myself a moment to let that uneasy feeling in my stomach subside.
A teenager takes Cade’s place beside me at the bar. I turn my back slightly to have a moment to myself as I numb my nerves.
“Beer, please,” the teenage boy asks the bartender, who shakes his head.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m older than I look.”
“Let me see an ID.”
The teen scoffs. “I’m at a wedding with my family. Why would I ask for a drink if I’m not allowed to have one?”
The bartender doesn’t appear to like the rude tone. “I’m not losing my job over some kid. You want a beer? Ask your parents to come up and get you one.”
The teen looks at me and then back at the bartender, motioning his head in my direction. “She’s my mom. She says it’s okay.”
I blink a few times as it dawns on me that he’s referring to me as his mother.
I squint my eyes at the teen. “Excuse me?”
“You okay with that, ma’am?” the bartender asks me, and now, I’m staring at him with narrowed eyes.
“I’m not old enough to be his mother,” I declare and then do the math in my head. Damn, actually, I could be.
And when I was his age, I most definitely was stealing drinks from Melissa’s parents’ liquor cabinet and imbibing in the neighbor’s tree house. Now, I’m about to tell a kid he’s too young to do the stupid thing I did when I was his age.
“You have any Athletic Brewing Company back there? Get me a Wit’s Peak.”
The bartender does as I asked, and I place a tip in the nearby jar. I hand the beer to the teenager, who looks at me like I’m handing him turpentine.
“You got me nonalcoholic beer?”
“You’re lucky I got you anything at all. Where are your parents?”
“My mom’s not here, and my dad’s an asshole.”
