Page 27 of Hard to Lose

And just as I lean in to kiss her—

“Gunner? Is that you?” comes from behind me in that high-pitch drawl I would recognize anywhere. Fuck.

I debate kissing Chase anyway, but it’d be rushed and interrupted, when I most definitely want it to be neither of those. I want more. Much more.

“I’m sorry in advance.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Chase

I stare at Gunner, not understanding what he means. When his name is called again, his shoulders sag in defeat and he chuckles sardonically.

He turns, and I’m met with an assault on all senses by a woman old enough to be either of our mothers. The voice owner’s hair is blonde and teased to epic heights. Her clothes are tight, her heels are high, and her makeup dramatic.

But not as dramatic as her voice and her expression when she finally meets Gunner’s eyes.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Full stop. I thought that was you over here all by your lonesome,” she says and Gunner’s hand tenses against my back.

“Not by my lonesome at all,” Gunner says, offering a polite smile to her.

“Well then.” She reaches out and rests a hand on Gunner’s bicep, and I swear to God I get jealous, even though his arm is wrapped around me. “I am so glad that I saw you standing over here because I wanted to let you know that I made a pie today, and I know how very much you like my pie. I made sure to use the tartest, juiciest apples,” she all but moans. “And the sauce is gooey and warm just like every man I know likes it.”

I cough out a laugh as my eyes all but bug out of my head. She hasn’t looked my way once—she only has eyes for Gunner. And hands apparently. He’s tried to shrug his shoulder away and she just keeps her hand planted firmly around his bicep.

Gunner clears his throat when she finally stops talking about her ooey, gooey mess and how it will absolutely melt in your mouth. “Thank you, Heloisa. I appreciate the offer, but—”

“Oh come now, sugar. You know I love treating the men around here to my pie, but I know you especially love my apple,” she practically purrs. If I wasn’t seeing this with my own eyes, I would never believe a woman could be this . . . whatever she is. “I even have some apples set aside, marinating in sugar and cinnamon, so if you tell me a time you’d like to stop by, whether it be a day or in an hour or two, I can cook another pie up real quick so that when you dive into it, it’s warm and juicy and oozing with everything good and mouthwatering that you like.”

I stare, blinking at Heloisa as she flirts herself right out of her skin-tight pants and into Gunner’s.

Meanwhile, Gunner shifts on his feet and stutters, “Thank you for the offer—I’m more than appreciative, but—”

“But you’ll be by later, right?” She winks and licks her lips. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“No. I won’t. I . . .” But just as quickly as Heloisa and her warm, moist pie came into the picture, she stalks right out with her hips swinging so noticeably I’m surprised she doesn’t throw her back out.

We both stand there staring at her and shaking our heads. “What—or rather who—was that?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh, I’m gonna ask,” I say playfully.

“She’s harmless. Just a lonely, old widow who comes into the bar sometimes and—”

“And you entertain her so as not to be mean to her?”

“Something like that,” he grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“Dare I ask if her warm, apple pie is as moist and delicious as she swears it to be?” I tease, imitating her voice, and I love that Gunner turns ten shades of red. “I mean, she was just offering to have sex with you.” I’m still astounded. And aghast in the oddest of ways.

“She was not,” he says but starts laughing.

“It’s the warmest, juiciest, hottest thing you’ll ever sink into,” I mimic until I burst into laughter. The kind of laughter that doesn’t stop, especially when you want it to. And every time I meet Gunner’s eyes, I start laughing even harder, to the point where the humor renews itself all over again.

“Oh. My. God,” I say in between laughter.

“Full stop,” Gunner pipes in.