Chapter 1
Marissa
I scanned the entrance one more time as nervous energy flitted through me.
Nope. It wasn’t him.
It was just another couple holding hands as they entered On The Rocks, the bougie tourist bar situated close to the Silver Pines Lodge on Red Oak Mountain.
My palms were sweating, and my stomach flip-flopped uneasily, not helped by the two Timberline Twists I’d already had while waiting for my very non-existent date to show up.
I checked my phone again.
7:42 p.m.
Nothing. No messages. No missed calls.
Just my own text sitting there unanswered, “Hi Brad, I’m here! Are you on your way?”
I’d sent it twenty minutesafterhe was supposed to arrive. And that had been an hour and forty minutes ago.
At this point, I’d pretty much accepted the fact that I’d been ghosted.
Again.
What kind of luck was that?
In contrast to my bruised heart, the tourist bar buzzed with Valentine’s Day excitement. Red paper hearts dangled from the ceiling, swaying every time the door opened.
I was surrounded by laughter and flirty conversations while I sat solo at my table, hogging up a spot in the busy bar.
Had I ever felt so alone before in my life? Tonight was fighting for a top spot on the worst-nights-of-my-life list.
I should have stayed home with the ladies.
Normally I did a Galentine’s Day with my friends. But this year, I’d opted for something different. A date with an actual man… just like last year.
What were the odds that two Valentine’s Dates would ghost me two years in a row? It was almost absurd enough to make me laugh.
Maybe this was a sign that I should finally learn my lesson.
Notallof us were lucky in love.
And other than the fact that I had no one to share my bed with, I had a pretty good life. The normal ups and downs everyone has. I should be happy with that.
Looking around the bar, I tried to wave down my waiter to get my check, but Harley was busy with an out-of-state couple who evidently didn’t understand that a bison burger containedactualbison meat. It wasn’t just a trendy marketing name.
On The Rocks wasnotmy scene. My butt belonged at the Bear Den. That was the dive bar for locals only, where the pool tables were familiar and the faces were kind.
This bar was the one that all the tourists frequented. It provided a plastic veneer ofmountain charmvisible in its tastefully chosen décor.
But the Bear Den was where the real heart of the mountain was.
Not this place. It was as fake as Brad.
And he, of the men-who-couldn’t-be-bothered-to-cancel clan, was the one who’d invited me here. I’d never be in this place if it weren’t for him.
I took a sip of my drink and focused on keeping it together. I hadn’t dressed up like this in a long time. My hair itched where I’d styled it in a tight French Twist and my bra felt too tight. The underwire was doing its best to dig into my boobs.
