Page 8 of The Bachelor

“Yeah, I’m starving.” He winked at her.

He’d been flirting and pulled back. It seemed that tonight was just not the night a man would decide with raging certainty that he could not go another minute without making her feel like a real woman. It shocked her how disappointed she was. “Might as well,” she told him. “There’s nothing better to do.”

She excused herself to go to the restroom. She was feeling a cry coming on and there was no way she wanted to do that in front of him. Her fragility upset her. She hated the way it made her feel.

“Are you okay?” he asked, jumping out of his seat in a gentlemanly quest to pull out her chair for her.

Avery nodded, then bolted for the restroom, smacking the hand dryer on so no one would hear her sobs.

She wanted to goddamn Ben and all men, including Shane, but she couldn’t bring herself to say goddamn after so many years of Sunday school training. No need to take any chances. So instead she cursed Ben for being a bastard. But she didn’t love that word. It didn’t feel strong enough. Finally, she settled on deeming him an asshole, because it was a gross word and Ben was just gross. It suited him. Ass. Hole.

She studied her swollen eyes and her ratty hair in the mirror. “Ben, you’re a no-good, cheating, lying, asshole,” she murmured out loud. “And I can’t believe how badly I wanted to have sex with you tonight.”

That was the most ironic part of the whole situation. She had booked a hotel room for the express purpose of tossing her virginity aside as easily as the annoying lace dress she had envisioned Ben ripping off over her head.

It had been her quest to stop letting Ben control her destiny. Her moment to push him a little, take what she wanted, wrest a deeper, more meaningful commitment from him. Talk about having it blow up in her face. Why had she tried so hard to force something? It was mortifying.

She had the hotel room that was too late to cancel, her credit card on file. It looked like she would be spending the night in that big bed all alone. This was the single most depressing and humiliating night of her whole life.

She wanted to drag her feet, linger over her coffee with Shane. Have him try to make her feel better, smile at her. She had jumped out of Ben’s truck, and landed right in front of a man who said straight-up said he loved ’em and left ’em. No relationships.

Which made him perfect for stroking her ego, offering her a little comfort. Shane almost seemed like he was flirting, but she couldn’t tell for sure, because she hadn’t tried to flirt back. If she were analytical about it, the waffle comment he’d made could have been all part of that byplay between a man and a woman. Not him saying he wasn’t interested. There was something there. In his eyes. She wasn’t going to have sex with him, obviously, but here at least was the perfect opportunity to hone her flirting skills. Make herself feel a little better. Avoid the inevitability of the empty bed for a little longer.

Give Ben the proverbial middle finger.

If she had her purse, she’d fix her hair, but then she realized she didn’t have a brush in her purse anyway, so she was shit out of luck.

That thought made her laugh. “Avery, it’s time to act like the woman you want to be,” she told her reflection.

Nashville wasn’t for sissies. Ben or no Ben, she was staying here.

THREE

Shane ordered a Belgian waffle and absently watched the waitress give him a warmer on his coffee. What the hell was he doing? His initial concern for a woman alone late at night was giving way to an intense curiosity he had no business feeling. What did it matter to him what she was doing in Nashville? Why did he care that she not go home alone to cry? He liked people, and he liked to talk and hear stories. But he didn’t share secrets. He never talked about his childhood, because that chapter was closed as far as he was concerned. Talking about his father gave him recognition he didn’t deserve. And he wasn’t about to tell Avery he was a music producer and his sister was the famous country star Jolene Hart. Avery would either freak out and bolt, or she would see him as an opportunity to take advantage of. It had happened before, and he had shrugged it off. But he didn’t want Avery to look at him with either of those reactions. He wanted her to just…connect with him.

Maybe he was missing that in his life.

That made him raise his coffee to his mouth and roll his eyes at himself. Why the fuck should he care if this slip of a girl liked him? Everyone liked him. He was friends with tons of people.

Close to no one.

Damn. He should have gone home.

Feelings were stirring up he wasn’t comfortable with.

Shane eyed the restroom. Avery had been in there a while. She had been on the verge of tears when she’d jumped out of her chair and he didn’t know why specifically. But obviously she’d had a completely lousy night, so it wasn’t unexpected.

The bells to the door jingled and he turned to see who had walked in. It was a guy, around twenty-five, average looking, kind of short. He seemed annoyed. Shane thought it might be Ben. He eyed the restroom again but no sign of Avery.

When he realized the guy was holding a purse, one that looked beat to hell and back, he was sure. So he stood up and went over to him. “Hey, are you Ben? Avery’s in the restroom.”

Ben gave him a frown. “Who are you?”

Shane instantly disliked the guy’s attitude. “I’m the guy who pulled her off the street when you dumped her out of your truck. I let her borrow my phone to get in touch with you.”

Ben’s shoulders stiffened. “She jumped out on her own. That’s Avery, though. She’s impulsive. Always has been.” He shouldered past Shane.

Now Shane really disliked him. So somehow this douchebag was blaming Avery? And had the gall to bump Shane on his way by? “Where are you going?”

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