Tanya waves me over from a high-top near the back of the bar. She’s already got two drinks on the table and is grinning like a woman who’s been waiting all week for this.
“You came!” she says, hopping up to hug me like we didn’t just text an hour ago.
“Don’t act so shocked.”
“Girl, I’ve been begging you to get out of that house for weeks. I was starting to think you and that porch swing were in a committed relationship.”
“We are. It’s very serious.”
She snorts, shoving a drink toward me.
Tanya’s my oldest friend out here. We went to high school together before I left for college and she stayed, married Bobby Garza, had three kids, and became the kind of woman who runs a household, a part-time bookkeeping business, and the entire PTA without breaking a sweat. She’s also the only person who can make me laugh until I cry and tell me about myself in the same breath.
Tonight she’s in tight jeans, red boots, a tank top with glitter, and enough energy to power the whole county. She took the night off from motherhood and she’s determined to spend every second of it dancing, drinking, and minding my business.
We settle in. Music blares, boots scuff on the wooden floor, the crowd thickens as more people filter in. Familiar faces wave and stop by our table. A couple of women from the co-op. Some people from our old high school. A guy I went out with once in 2011 who has no business hugging me this tight.
“Down, boy,” Tanya mutters when he finally leaves. “He’s been divorced for six months and already circling.”
“Takes one to know one.”
She grins. “Speaking of. How’s single life treating you?”
“It’s not single life, it’s peace and quiet.”
“Mmhm. Peace and quiet with that glow on your face?” She leans in, eyes narrowing. “You look different tonight. Like you’ve been sleeping better. Or not sleeping at all.” She wags her eyebrows.
I take a long sip of my lemonade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.”
I’m about to change the subject when a burst of deep male laughter rolls across the room. I glance up.
And there he is. Beau freaking Redding. Why, Universe? Why me?
He’s sitting at a table with his brothers. Mack’s got a woman on either side of him, grinning like the charming bastard he clearly is. Levi’s leaned back, talking to a redhead. But Beau? Beau sits quiet, still. Like the calm center of a storm.
No hat tonight. His thick, dark hair is pushed back from his forehead, a little messy, like he ran his hand through it once and called it done. It makes him look younger. Rougher. His jaw catches the low bar light…sharp, shadowed, dusted with thatstubble I can still feel on my neck if I think about it too hard. Which I’m trying not to do.
He’s wearing a dark shirt that does criminal things to his body. Stretched across his chest and shoulders like it’s one deep breath away from ripping. The sleeves hug his biceps…thick, round, the kind you don’t get from a gym. His forearms rest on the table, tanned and veined, and his big hands are wrapped around a glass of water. His hands. His rough, sure, devastating hands that were inside me this afternoon.
My pussy clenches. In a bar. Surrounded by people I’ve known since birth, while a Garth Brooks song plays on the jukebox. This is my life now.
His golden eyes scan the room lazily. Unhurried. Like he already knows what he’s looking for.
Then they find me.
The second his gaze locks on mine, I feel it. Not in my chest. Lower. A hot, tight pull between my legs that makes me squeeze my thighs together under the table. His eyes don’t move. Don’t blink. Just hold. Even from across the room, his stare has weight. Heat. It presses against my skin like a physical thing. Like he’s touching me without moving.
My cheeks flush. My nipples tighten against my bra. Great.
I yank my gaze back to Tanya. Who is already staring at me with the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing. Just watching you have a full-body experience.”
“I was NOT…”
