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“Okay, you pay, and I’ll tell you all about my run-in I just had with a bitchy woman.”
“Sounds entertaining,” he replied, humor carrying through the line. “You didn’t knock her out, did you? I’m really comfortable right now, kicked back, enjoying a beer, and watching the game. I’d hate to have to get up to come bail your ass out of jail.”
I let out a snort and rolled my eyes as I continued to push my empty cart through the store one-handed. “First off, if I had hit her, which I didn’t, she would have totally deserved it. That’s how nasty she was. And second, it would never happen anyway. You think for a second Lyric would let her man lock up any of her friends?” I blew a raspberry past my lips. “There are some serious perks to small-town living, and one of them happens to be being besties with the local cop’s fiancée.”
That earned me another laugh, and I could picture the way his dimples were probably pressing deep right then. They didn’t come out often, but when they did, they only made him that much hotter. “Sound logic, Bits. Still, try not to get into any trouble, yeah? If for no reason other than my peace of mind.”
I let out a sound of disappointment. “Fine. For you. But that sure sounds boring.”
“Finish your shopping and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then, Viking.”
I hung up and tossed my phone back into my purse, feeling better after one conversation with Gage than I had in the past three days.
I decided to put my man hunt to rest and actually shop for groceries. Maybe instead of trying to find someone to help me break my dry spell, I’d go online and stock up on some new toys.
ChapterTen
GAGE
I pushedthrough the door of Hot Java and pulled in a deep breath, the smell of fresh coffee beans a much-needed hit to my system.
It wasn’t the only coffee shop in town, or even the one closest to my place, but the worm in our crew had all but blackballed French Press, the bougier, more expensive place in town. The coffee at Hot Java was superior and reasonably priced, but the convenience of being only a few blocks from French Press made it the place I frequented most often. However, the owner, a bitchy pinch-faced woman, had been harboring a crush on my buddy Clay for years. When his now-wife Lark had returned after being gone for years, the chick had gone out of her way to try to make Lark’s life so miserable she’d leave town again. All because she was threatened that her return would mean she’d lose her shot with Clay, something she was too stubborn to realize she’d lost long before Lark came home.
After witnessing the woman shooting her venom at Lark, the rest of the ladies put a lifetime ban on the place, and if any of us guys were to step foot inside, they’d take it as a personal affront. Probably would have made voodoo dolls of each of us to stick pins in all day long. As far as I was concerned, I was better off relenting, even if I didn’t give much of a damn about drama that didn’t involve me.
I’d once made the mistake of saying as much to Wynn, and there had been a few seconds I’d worried she was going to knee me in the balls.
Not worth it. So I started driving the extra miles to Hot Java in order to keep the peace.
But also because of Wynn.
I’d been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days, and I’d come to realize some truths that had always been there, but that I refused to let myself see. Mainly, that there wasn’t much Iwouldn’tdo for that woman.
She hadn’t arrived yet, so I went to the counter and ordered for both of us. An Americano for me and something overly sweet, beige in color, and topped with whipped cream for her. As always, I felt fucking ridiculous carrying her sugary confection around in front of people, but I sucked it up and did it anyway.
I’d just moved to the side of the register to wait for my order, pulling out my phone to shoot off a text asking Wynn how much longer she thought she was going to be, when a voice spoke my name, instantly sending a chill down my back.
“Gage.”
My thumb hovered over the screen, unable to move, as I woodenly lifted my head and locked onto a pair of eyes I’d sworn I would never see again.
Vanessa stood less than five feet in front of me, looking exactly how I remembered her. All that long dark hair hung in perfect, loose curls, spilling over her shoulders. It was barely eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, and she was already sporting a full face of makeup with the shiny pink gloss she had favored back when we’d been dating. I’d hated that shit. Every time we kissed I felt like I had to wipe off a thick coat of quick-drying glue.
Back when we dated she’d said she’d never be caught dead out in public in workout clothes or sweats. Apparently that was still a hard and fast rule, because she was currently dressed in a pair of designer jeans and a silk blouse that made her stand out in this small town coffee shop like a sore thumb in need of amputation.
“God, it’s good to see you,” she said on a breath, her smile that same practiced, fake bullshit pageant smile she’d learned from her pageant mom. “You look amazing.” She stepped in, arms lifting like she was preparing to hug me.
I shot backward a foot, keeping that distance between us as I tried to wrap my brain around the fact that she was here, in my town, standing right in front of me.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“This is just a lucky coincidence. I’m staying at some little inn not too far away, and all that place has is a single cup coffee maker. I needed something stronger so...” She held up her hands. “Here I am.”
“Not what I meant,” I gritted out. “What are you doinghere. In Tennessee.”
She batted her eyelashes, tilting her chin down to look up at me through the fringe, and that clued me in that I really wasn’t going to like what she said next. “I’m here for you.”
