“You two are close, then?”
“Twin sister. You can’t tell?”
“Clearly, I’m the better-looking sibling,” Nia teases.
I glance between the two, taking stock of their similarities. Nia’s eyes are more chocolate brown than black, and her jaw is softer, but they do look strikingly similar.
“Stop gawking at my date, Callie. You have your own.”
I shrug and bring my drink to my lips. “I’m an equal opportunity gawker.”
“I don’t share,” Mo says.
“That’s not what you said when Jaxon asked me out,” I remind her. “In fact, you were encouraging the threesome.”
Clint’s gaze strays to the far end of the bar. “Jaxon Hayes? You two dated?”
I let out an unsteady breath. “No, we’re just friends.”
He picks at the label on his beer. “He’s my boss.”
I already knew that. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t run into Clint at the ranch yet. If he knows I’m living there, he’s doing a great job at hiding it.
“There’s nothing between us. He’s just a friend.” Having to reiterate something I’ve already said to placate Clint sends up the first red flag. There’s nothing endearing about an insecure man.
I don’t know why I’m defending myself. It’s not like we’re together.
“How's Fatticus doing at the new place?” Mo’s swift change of subject seems to ease some of the tension.
“Atticus” —I exaggerate the correct name— “is loving it, but he's been pawing at the window trying to get at the free-range chickens when they stray too close.”
“I bet he loves that. His favorite treats are the chicken-flavored ones.”
“He’s like a kid at an aquarium, only he’s the one stuck behind the glass. I think they like taunting him.”
Nia leans over and whispers something into Mo’s ear, and they excuse themselves to the dance floor.
“Can I get you another drink?” Clint asks.
I already have a decent buzz from the first one, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night. “Sure.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Dill pickle martini.”
He grimaces, but it’s quickly replaced by a half smile. “You got it.”
I watch Mo and Nia slow dancing in the middle of the bar. Mo sweeps a lock of hair away from Nia’s forehead and presses a kiss there. My chest aches, and I force myself to look away.
Clint returns several minutes later with two drinks. “So... Nia told me you’re a librarian. That must be pretty boring.”
It takes every bit of willpower to tamp down the urge to roll my eyes. “It's my dream job, actually. I love it.” I sigh wistfully. “I get a little boost of dopamine every time I help a kid pick out their next favorite book.”
“Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life.”
It’s cliché, but at least he’s trying. “Something like that. Do you love working at the ranch?”
Clint launches into a speech about his job, but I’m only half listening, lost in thoughts of my new home and the man who brought me there. My mind replays the moment in the bedroom, and the look in his eyes before he pulled away. For the briefest moment, I thought he wanted to kiss me.
