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Lennon grinned, and wow, was the woman pretty when she smiled. “I didn’t mean it as one.”

I wondered how she did mean it, but I wasn’t going to ask. What did it matter? He wouldn’t be Mr. Ford for long. Wyoming, it turned out, was the best place on earth to get divorced. It was ridiculously easy. I could file online, Seb could respond online, and the judge could approve it online. No separation period required, so it didn’t even matter that we were technically living under the same roof and sleeping in the same bed. In a mere thirty days, our marriage would dissolve—poof!—like it never existed.

A mere technicality, that was all this was. I’d spent the last three years believing our marriage wasn’t real anyway. Getting a divorce would simply be a return to the status quo.

So why did I feel so fucking sad about it?

On my other side, Tamilee gave Seb a poke in the ribs. “Go sit down. We’ve got Lila covered.”

Seb didn’t budge. He stayed behind me, bracketing my arms with his, hands curled around the bar top edge. My own private fortress. He smelled like soap and shampoo and some kind of woodsy aftershave that made me want to lean into him. “Yeah, go have a drink with the cowboys. I’m fine.”

He tweaked one of my curls. “No. That wasn’t our deal.”

I let myself rest against his solid torso, just a little. He shifted even closer.

Tonya, the bartender, dropped by with my vodka tonic and Seb’s Coke. She was pretty, with big brown eyes and brown hair shaped into a chin-length bob that somehow looked cool and edgy instead of reminiscent of Lord Farquaad. She had that confident vibe of a woman whose body had never betrayed her over a common ingredient.

Despite my envy, I would have adored her if not for the unhappy shock in her wide eyes when her gaze landed on Seb’s hand still tangled in my hair. Her eyes moved past me to above my head. With her body blocking my view of our reflection in the mirror beneath the shelves of liquor, I couldn’t see Seb’s expression. Was he apologetic? Reassuring? She set our drinks down without a word and pivoted to another customer.

“Tonya!” Seb called after her. She stopped and turned back to us, eyes hopeful.

My molars clanked together. I was not going to sit here while my soon-to-be-ex-husband flirted with the hot, gluten-tolerant bartender right over my damn head. I was not.

“Can I get a bowl of limes? Thanks.”

I blinked in surprise, my gaze dropping to my lime-less drink. Oh.

“Sure, no problem.” She gave me a tight smile, grabbed a handful of quartered limes, dropped them into a small bowl, and set it down in front of me. “Sorry about that.”

I had my doubts, but I let them go. “Thank you.”

Lennon shifted sideways on her stool so that she was facing us. “Tell us about your weekend, Tami. How was the date?”

“Oh, it was amazing. She’s a pottery artist, and she owns this cute little shop on Main Street, did I tell you that?” Tamilee’s eyes lit up, and she pulled out her phone. “Let me show you the mugs she makes.”

I swallowed my giggle at the rows and rows of colorful mugs painted with purple and pink sunsets, golden sunflowers, and cheerful cacti. Tamilee must have taken a hundred photos. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly crane her neck like she was trying to catch a peek.

“Come look, Holly,” I said. “We can make room.”

But she shook her head. “Mateo already showed me.”

Tamilee’s head whipped toward them. “What?” she hollered. “What did you do, Mateo?”

He pushed his glasses up his nose with a little smirk. “Come on, Tami. You know we’re not going to let you run off for a weekend with a stranger without doing a little reconnaissance. We love you too much for that.”

“You kids need to stay out of my business.” Tamilee pursed her glossy magenta lips, eyeballing Mateo over the rim of her beer. “Anything I should know?”

“Nah. I would have warned you if there was.”

“Hey.” Tonya was back. She braced her palms on the bar, offering an excellent view of her breasts that I knew was from squeezing her biceps inward because I had done that plenty of times myself. “Anyone need anything?”

“We’re good.” Seb’s hand landed on the curve where my neck met my shoulder, and he squeezed gently. “Lennon? Tami? Next round is on me if you want anything.”

“Sure,” Lennon said. “Jeremiah is driving, so I’ll take another beer.”

Tamilee shook her head. “Still working on this one.”

Tonya’s prolonged eye contact with Seb grated on my last nerve. “If you change your mind, let me know.”