Chapter 1
Happy Hour
Closing my umbrella, I rushed into the rowdy, overly packed bar where my friends had been waiting for me for almost an hour. Just as I started to say hello to the hostess with a kind smile, my heel caught on the damp carpet, sending me crashing right into the host stand. As my limbs flailed around and my purse dumped out onto the ground, I was completely mortified. Without warning, mid-fall, two strong arms wrapped around my middle, stopping me from completely busting my ass.
“Are you all right, darlin’?” The gruff voice of my rescuer wafted into my ear as he helped steady me on my feet.
Smoothing out my dress and turning every shade of crimson possible, I tried to hide my embarrassment with a cheeky grin. “Always have to make an entrance, right? That’s what my mother would have said before laughing at my awkwardness.”
“She is definitely right about that. I’m Waylon.” As I shook his outstretched hand, I took a second to eye Waylon up and down. Tall, dark hair, toothy smile, a sleeve of tattoos—he was attractive for sure.
“I’m Annabelle,” I responded as I dove down to retrieve the scattered contents of my purse and a second wave of embarrassment crashed hard. Waylon kneeled down to help me, and of course the first item he grabbed was a tampon.
Just my luck.
At least chivalry isn’t dead, right?
“Thank you,” I muttered, shoving four lipsticks, eyeliner, concealer, tampons, a note pad, and my keys all back into my bag.
“No worries. Happy to help. Do you come here often?” Waylon leaned against the host stand, flashing a knee-weakening smile. Most women would have been flattered by the harmless flirting, but I wasn’t most women.
“Kind of,” I answered as the frantic waving of my girlfriends caught my eye. “I should be getting to my group.”
Waylon’s steely gaze followed my pointing finger. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Annabelle.”
“You too,” I tossed over my shoulder as I hurried over to the Happy Hour Club for another Monday night ritual.
“I am so sorry I’m late, ladies,” I huffed.
“Who was that?” Sawyer asked as she scooted her chair over to give me a bit more room at our tiny, round high-top in the back corner of the bar area.
I shrugged. “He caught me as I was falling. How humiliating is that?”
“He’s a cutie,” Caroline added with a little grin. “And a Prince Charming to boot.”
“Well if I see him again, I’ll introduce you.”
“Come on, Annie, you haven’t even tried to date,” Caroline whined as the server brought over a Manhattan with two cherries, just the way I liked it.
“I’m just not ready,” I stated for the hundredth time. “I need more time.”
“Let’s not get into that minefield again. Cheers, ladies.” Holding up her gin and tonic, Harper giggled loudly.
We all followed her gesture, clinking our glasses together.
“So, Annabelle, how does it feel to be an empty nester at thirty?” Caroline glanced over at me with a knowing smirk.
“Fine. Ellis is so excited to finally be a Bulldog. That girl has been bleeding red and black since before she was out of diapers. Her daddy made sure of that.” Choking a little on the last words, I swigged my beverage quickly. It had been a little over three years since my husband passed, but it felt like only minutes. Now that my stepdaughter was moved out for her first semester at college, the loneliness of my situation was sinking in hard.
“How is rush going for her? We did all send in glowing recommendations for Delta Nu, and she’d be a perfect sister for sure.” I swore Sawyer was still a sorority girl at heart. I mean, we all technically were and we owed our friendship to that sisterhood, but Sawyer was on a different level. She still even wore her lavalier on special occasions and volunteered with the national chapter every chance she got.
“Today was the first day. I haven’t gotten the scoop yet, but I’m sure I’ll be hearing all about it sooner rather than later.” My stepdaughter, Ellis, and I were thick as thieves, thankfully, and it was hard to be far away from her. Three and a half hours might as well have been a thousand.
As the night rolled on with the typical chitchat of complaining about work and men, I realized how different the four of us truly were. I thought that might be why we still got along years after graduation.
Sawyer Henderson was a Southern belle through and through with a bohemian side that made her father’s skin crawl. We had all thought he was going to have a heart attack when she finally told him she was switching majors from pre-law to photojournalism.
Harper Collins was the most independent woman I had ever known. She and I had been the only two pre-law students in our sorority. She actually did become a lawyer and was taking the world by storm.
