“If you say so,” he said. “Seems to me nothing is a secret. Even Jocelyn narrowed her eyes at us. She knew what we were thinking.”
“And we don’t care!”
7
STOPPED BEING THAT MAN
“Well, hello there again,” Chance said on Friday night.
The last person he thought he’d see in his pub was Jocelyn McCarthy.
Seemed they had been seeing a lot of each other in the past two weeks. More than they had in the past fifteen years.
“Hi,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
Interesting.
“You came for me?” She lifted her eyebrows some, but hesitated to answer. “Hold that thought.”
He moved over a few feet to cover a customer raising his arm for a beer.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the woman who returned.
Not one he had to chase.
But boy, did he want to.
Years ago, and again tonight.
He wasn’t sure what had changed and maybe it wasn’t wise to question it.
After he looked around the bar to make sure everyone else was covered, he slid back to her.
“I’ll take ginger ale and vodka.”
“Moscow mule?” he asked.
“Yep. Didn’t know if you had ginger beer here or not and didn’t want to sound pretentious.”
“We don’t,” he said. “Or I don’t.” He mixed her drink. “Lime and mint?”
“Just lime works. See, I don’t care for the mint, so you know, not really the same thing anyway. I put my twist on it at home.”
“I bet you put your own twist on a lot of things.”
“Life isn’t much fun if you don’t,” she said. He put the drink in front of her. She handed her card and he took it off the bar, then printed the receipt and handed it back. Guess she wasn’t starting a tab.
She put the drink to her luscious lips.
“Is there a reason you came in here tonight?” Chance asked.
“I might be looking at it.”
He returned her smirk.
Her lips were unpainted. Her eyes held a quiet simmer, not from makeup, more like the glow of the dim bar lights catching something just beneath the surface. Her lashes were darker, naturally so, but otherwise she wore little to no makeup. Never had. Not like the other girls she used to hang out with.
“Good to know,” he said.
