Page 1 of Love Like Lightning

1

Gianna

October

When I flew into the Denver airport last night, I didn’t realize I would have to drive another four and a half hours to reach my destination. Cameron hadn’t given me much information. He just said he needed me at a very important meeting in Colorado. And it was; I’m glad I came for it, despite it not going well.

Okay, and I may have forgotten to save the address, but I’ve been a bit distracted. If it’s not number related, sometimes my brain just skims over it anyway.

Cam and I have worked together many times in the past, and he’s made it very clear that he admires my “math mind,” as he calls it. He knows me well enough to recognize my shortcomings, which is why he shot me a text before I got on my flight, telling me explicitly where I was headed.

His call for this potential project couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s been two weeks since I broke up with a man who was never worth my time. Too bad it took me over a year to figure that out. Again. My less than stellar track record with men is probably my least favorable quality.

Or my messy tendencies.

Depends who you ask.

My best friend and cousin, Simone, says that it’s my fault I always end up in these situations. As if I intentionally choose to date men who end up breaking my heart and treating me like crap. As if I should just assume that someone I met through one of my cousins would end up being a man child who doesn’t know how to be in a relationship.

Or do laundry.

As if that’s something I’d do knowingly.

After the most recent situation, a getaway thousands of miles away from Boston is definitely in order. Even if it’s only for two nights. I didn’t even mind that it’s work related or that it’s going by so quickly. Work tends to serve as a good distraction for me, a happy one even.

Me and numbers are peas in a pod. They won’t tell me that I should try more with their friends.

Or in bed.

Maybe I’d try more if it was worth it.

Anyway, it’s been nice to be somewhere new.

Unfortunately, the meeting didn’t go exactly as Cam thought it would. The business owners we met with, a married couple, need some serious help. Honestly, they should have called us earlier. Or anyone else. They definitely need a business restructuring consultant. Something. Someone to crunch the numbers and figure out how they can move forward.

Things don't look all that great business-wise, but they also don't seem to be on the same page about how to move forward. The husband has been seriously considering selling, but the wife has a lot of fight left in her.

That can get tricky, especially when it comes to family businesses. But we presented our ideas and some loose prospective plans to hopefully get the business back in the black, and that’s all we can do.

Now, we wait.

I’m not holding my breath; I get the feeling that we won't hear from them again. But in the meantime, I've got an evening to kill before I have to drive back to Denver in the morning for a late afternoon flight.

I grabbed dinner at a cute diner called Daisy’s, where I had probably the best plate of pancakes in existence. They even had pure maple syrup available, which, for someone from the northeast, is an absolute godsend.

Now I’ve taken up residence at a bar called The Well, drinking alone. I decided to allow myself a few hours to mope over my latest failed relationship and then hopefully move on. I have a room at the bed and breakfast right here in town, so I can get properly sloshed and walk my pitiful ass home after.

“What’s got you looking so forlorn, hun?” The bartender, an older white woman who introduced herself as Betty, wipes the bar top with a cloth and gives me a stern, almost motherly look.

And because bartenders, in my experience, are the therapists of the hospitality industry, I actually tell her. “Bad break-up. Another bad break-up.”

“Ah.” Without another word, she turns to tend to the other guests standing at the bar. Not exactly the warm conversation I was expecting, but she’s clearly busy. I drink some more of my beer. It’s a Pilsner that I wanted to try, though I’m more of a cocktail girl. It’s fine, but a bit bitter for my taste. I’m not in love with it.

A small commotion draws my attention to the entrance, and a group of two women and three men walks in. The shorter woman has blonde hair; the other is much taller with long chestnut-colored hair. Both are beautiful in their own ways. The three men…well, they’re all incredibly attractive too. They could also all be brothers from the looks of it. The one holding the blonde’s hand is tall with dark, curly hair. Directly behind him is another man who is just a hair taller, but his hair is more dirty blond, and it’s cropped close to his head. Eyes hard, lips turned down into a harsh frown. Very much giving off a “don’t even look at me” vibe. Charming. Even so, there’s a distinct resemblance between their features.

It’s the last one who catches my eye, though, and I’m not entirely sure why. Well, his height definitely doesn’t hurt. He’s the tallest of the group, probably coming in around six-three, maybe even six-four. Fair skin, seemingly untouched by the sun. His hair is the same chestnut color as the tall girl’s, and it’s short on the sides and a little longer on top. Long enough that there’s a bit of a curl. But it’s his smile that draws me in instantly.

They all make their way to the bar, just a few seats away from me. All the while, I can’t take my eyes off him. That grin hasn’t left his face since he stepped through the door. There’s a youthful warmth to it that makes me want to smile myself.

---