One gin and tonic later, and Cristina’s deep in her cups. “All I’m saying, Rowe, is that it’s a tough dating pool out there, and you’ve got to look past Mystic Meadows.”
“I know. You’re right.”
She runs a finger over the rim of her glass. “You can’t let one breakup ruin all men for you. You just can’t—even though what Luke did is shameless. And I’m not just talking about the cheating.” She shoots me a pointed look before her phone beeps. Cristina glances down at it, sighs, and looks up at me.
“Anything good?”
“No, just Jace’s mom asking me when I’m going to take back her son. The woman won’t give up.” She cringes. “I picked up the last of my things from his place a few days ago. Did I tell you that?”
I frown. “No, you didn’t. I would’ve gone with you to get them.”
She waves me away. “It’s fine. Totally fine. He was really nice and I was really nice. There wasn’t any drama.” She picks up her glass and shakes it, clinking the ice together. “I’m hungry. I’m going to head next door for an empanada. You want one, or three?”
“Not now. Maybe later.”
Cristina slides off the barstool. “I’ll be over there. Or I might bring it back here and eat.” She lifts her glass. “Can I get a to-go cup?”
Isaac, the bartender, approaches. His long, dark braids land in the middle of his back, and his earrings are black-rimmed gauges. He flashes a wide smile—a set of perfect ivory teeth against deep brown skin.
“Cristina, you’re not going to get in your car, are you?” he asks, grabbing a Styrofoam cup.
“No, no. I’m just going to Gloria’s to grab something to eat. You want something?”
“Oh yeah, will you grab me a Cuban sandwich?”
She mock-gasps. “Not an empanada?”
“Not tonight.”
“Sure.” He pours iced tea from a pitcher into the cup and pushes it toward her. “You know we don’t do alcohol to go,” he reminds her gently.
She pouts. “I know. But I was hoping.” Cristina raises the cup and takes a long sip, ending with a satisfied smack of her lips. “This will do. Be right back.”
As soon as she’s gone, my attention falls to my empty water glass, which Isaac swiftly removes.
“What’re you having?” comes a husky voice to my right.
My stomach does an entire gymnastics floor routine before I manage to calm it down with, “Whiskey sour.”
Two of the most masculine fingers that I’ve recently found myself obsessed with lift. “Whiskey sour and a scotch, neat.”
Isaac nods and begins making the drinks as Pane sits. He smells musky, of scents that I can’t place but want to devour. I inhale to drink in more of him, then look up.
His gaze is unapologetically leveled on me. A shiver shoots down my spine, and my eyes dart away to lock on anything besides his.
“Congratulations,” I murmur.
Isaac sets our drinks in front of us. Pane lifts his to me. “I couldn’t have done it without you. To us.”
I smile as we clink glasses. “To us.” Movement to my right catches my attention, and I watch as Coleman Barrier escorts a very tipsy Hilary from the bar. “So. Did you get everything squared away with Coleman?”
Pane sips his scotch, watching as the couple exits the bar. “Even after all that, he still tried to weasel out of a few things. But I got him. We’ll have everything we need. Plus a new set of boots for me.”
That makes me laugh. “You need them, if you’re going to be working construction.”
He rests an elbow on the table and leans a cheek on his fist. It is literally the most relaxed position I’ve yet to see him in. “About that. I have an idea for the farm.”
“Oh?”
