Everybody except Mabel.
She’d tried not to obsess over Jake while she’d been home for Thanksgiving, but it had been almost impossible not to. She’d been thinking about Dave’s advice to chase her own happiness, and then she’d looked up to see Jake watching her through the studio window. The mix of heat and affection in his gaze had caused her heart to leap and her thighs to clench. What woman wouldn’t give in to the long-simmering temptation to touch the man who looked at her as if she were the most important person in the universe? And then when she’d followed him into the hallway to reiterate that she wasn’t with Aiden, she’d found Jake with Thea.Withher. Hugging her, pressing into her body, letting her hands smooth down the muscles of his back.
Proprietary. Comfortable. Coupled.
Her stomach churned every time she thought about it. In all their texting and in-person interactions, the one thing she and Jake didn’t talk about was how he was spending his free time in Beaucoeur. He’d apparently honored her request to keep it professional between them and started seeing someone else. And why wouldn’t he? He was a smart, attractive man with a good job and a sense of humor. And kindness and patience and a sense of style and an ass that wouldn’t quit.
God, she was an idiot. An idiot who’d forced Jake to dance with her. Great.
Worse, nothing had changed in their texting routine over the holiday, which drove home the fact that Jake was happy with their relationship the way it was. In fact, he sent her a selfie on Thanksgiving of him holding a ladle while wearing a pink gingham apron and a sheepish grin. It had been both the best and the worst part of the day for her, and she’d peeked at it countless times over the past twenty-four hours, disappointed with him for moving on and angry with herself for letting him.
So did she pick out clothes for the Moo Daddies show to please herself? Of course not. She pulled on a gauzy blouse, imagining the heat of Jake’s hand through the sheer material. She shimmied into a short red skirt because she knew damn well he liked her legs. And she went for broke with the spiky, knee-high boots that she never wore because they left her practically hobbled by the end of the night, hoping they’d make him crazy. Which madehercrazy, because he was apparently dating someone else.
Unlike most shows, she was driving herself to the Elephant so she could make it an early night; she and Thea had an early-morning yoga date the next day, and boy, wasn’t she looking forward tothat. She could’ve canceled, but it didn’t seem fair to punish Thea for having the good sense to scoop Jake up when he was available. Mabel was trying out the whole “personal growth” and “being the bigger person” thing with the perky woman. So far, she hated it.
At the Elephant, Ana spotted Mabel as soon as she entered and enthusiastically waved her over to their usual table. She squeezed between clustered groups and tightly packed tables to reach her friend up front, where she was seated with Skip’s boyfriend Chris.
“Well hey, Julia Roberts inPretty Woman,” Ana said when Mabel finally reached her.
Chris gave a long, low whistle that made her flush.
“Oh God. Should I go home and change?”
“Are you kidding? It’s criminal that I haven’t those boots before.” Chris eyed her ensemble as he took a long sip from his gin and tonic.
“Or it means that I’m trying too hard,” she said nervously, forcing herself not to look around the bar to see who was or wasn’t there.
“It might also mean you don’t try hard enough on a regular basis,” Ana said brightly. She paused to let Mabel gasp in fake outrage before gesturing to Chris. “Then again, none of us ever looks as sharp as this guy.”
The older man adjusted his bow tie, which was as crisp as always, and tugged his striped sweater vest over his round belly. “Well, I certainly didn’t dress up for you hussies,” he said primly. “Speaking of, I should go wish my fella good luck and get back to my table.”
He gave them each a peck on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd.
“Sit,” Ana said, tugging Mabel into the just-vacated seat. “You really do look fantastic.”
“Thanks. But more importantly, so do you. I’m so glad to see you out. How are you feeling?” She peered at her friend, looking for any signs of fatigue in Ana’s brown eyes.
“Better. I think I’m over that early rough patch. But it’s been hard on Dave.”
Mabel squeezed her hand. “I know. Hey, I love that scarf.”
“It’s my fiery Mexican heritage emerging,” Ana said dryly, adjusting the beige-and-cream chevron print scarf around her neck. “How was Thanksgiving?”
Mabel tried to covertly scan the room as she and Ana chatted about their respective feasts. Unfortunately, Ana was too observant.
“He’s here with Brandon and a handful of Brick Babes, so keep your eye on that quadrant.” She pointed to a large table on the opposite side of the room.
“Brandon’s here?” Mabel was surprised he cared enough to show up.
Ana shrugged. “Maybe he’s supporting his deejays?”
“Sure. That’s one explanation. The other is the hot-pants brigade he’s with.” Mabel rattled the ice in her Diet Coke in agitation. Following the aftermath of the last show, she was avoiding alcohol tonight.
Just before the show started, she gave in to the temptation to peek at the Brick Babe table, and there was Jake, sitting right next to Thea. The last thing she saw before the lights dimmed was Thea tugging him down to whisper in his ear. Stung, she whipped her head back to the stage, and as the Moo Daddies launched into Filter’s “Hey Man, Nice Shot,” she tried to squash the bolt of betrayal that raced through her. Jake hadn’t done a single thing she could reasonably be jealous about, and she needed to push it all aside so she’d be ready when her set rolled around.
It didn’t work, of course, and she perched, tense and unhappy, on the edge of her chair for the first hour of the show, refusing to turn her head toward the other side of the room again. Thank God she was used to being her brightest self in public even when she was sick, sleep-deprived, or heartbroken, because when Dave called her up onstage, she was able to bound out of her seat with a big smile and a high five for Skip.
“Helloooo, Beaucoeur!” she caroled into the mic, and okay, she had to admit it: she loved the cheers from the audience. The radio booth could feel so isolated, especially on a solo show, and this immediate, enthusiastic feedback was like a drug.
