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Maybe that would help erase the last few days from my memory.
Or at least alleviate the ache inside my chest.
Because today was the day I put my grandmother, my only living family, to rest.
It still felt surreal. Even at seventy-five years old, Grams was one of the most vibrant people I knew. I loved her to pieces, although some days, she drove me crazy with how independent she was. How damn stubborn. That woman was energetic, opinionated, loud, and generally didn’t take shit from anybody.
How could a person like that be gone?
One day she was here, telling me I should ditch my piece-of-shit boyfriend and find myself a nice man that would treat me well so I could focus on him and stop bossing her around already, and the next, I found her lifeless body lying in her bed.
A heart attack.
My throat grows tight as the image of her pale face flashes in my mind and more tears gather in my eyes.
She was right, though.
Mark was a piece of shit.
Not just that, he was a lying,cheatingpiece of shit.
Grabbing my glass, I down it, only to start to choke.
Shit.
I bend forward as I try to catch my breath when I feel a hand pat against my back. “Easy now.”
The low, raspy voice has the hair at my nape standing at attention. Following the sound, I turn to the side, but my vision is too blurry to see clearly. All I can do is feel. Feel a big hand soothe up and down my back. Feel the warm body sitting next to me, his knee brushing against mine. Smell the spicy scent of an unfamiliar man’s cologne.
Finally, I stop coughing and manage to catch my breath. Blinking a few times, the guy’s face comes into focus, and my mouth goes dry, but for a completely different reason.
Holy shit, this man is gorgeous.
And tall. So damn tall. You could see it even when he was sitting. How did I miss him taking the chair next to mine? I have no idea. Because there was nothing subtle about this man. I was pretty sure when he entered the room, everybody knew it. My tongue darts out as I stare at him. It wasn’t just his physical appearance either. There is a silent intensity shining in his light eyes as he watches me. Blue or gray? It was hard to tell in the dimly lit room. His dark hair is rich, the ends curling around his ears, and a neatly trimmed beard is covering his jaw. He’s dressed in simple jeans and a blue polo shirt that reveals his firm bicep with a full sleeve of tattoos over his tanned skin.
His brows pull together, a few lines marring his forehead. “You okay, Blondie?”
Hearing that nickname snaps me back into reality. Feeling embarrassed, I look away, searching for the bartender. “Fine.”
The guy is serving the customer on the other side of the bar. I lift my hand, signaling for another round, and he nods in acknowledgment.
“Do you really think that’s a wise idea?” my companion continues without missing a beat.
Seriously? Is this guy for real?
Annoyance rises under my skin. I tilt my head to the side to find him watching me, his fingers wrapped around a glass of rich brown liquid. “What are you? My dad?”
Those astute eyes lock on me, and it takes everything in me not to shudder. “I could probably be.”
I let out a snort just as the bartender appears with my refill. “You’re not that old, buddy.”
At this angle, I could see a few more lines on his face, mostly around his eyes and on his forehead, but he was far from old. Older? Probably. He had what? Eight years on me? Ten tops, which would put him to be in his mid-thirties. Definitely not more than that.
What the hell was a guy like that doing at a random hotel bar in the middle of nowhere Texas? He didn’t seem like the country type. Even with the beard and messy hair, he was still too clean-cut for this place. And there was no hint of a Southern accent either. A passerby. Maybe on business?
My eyes dart down to his glass and the hand wrapped around it. No ring. Or line where one was supposed to be.
Why the hell are you looking at his ring finger?I chastise myself as the bartender refills my glass.Get a grip, girl.
