Page 43 of Heart So Hollow

“No,” I shake my head, “so, I just left it at that.”

Regardless of how much I like anyone—even Bowen—I could never bring myself to fire off superfluous texts into the ether. Fishing for attention from some guy I’ve known for less than a week isn’t appealing, it’s fucking sad—even if I had some of the most amazing sex of my life and can’t stop thinking about him.

“Rude,” Barrett spits dismissively. Then she slams her glass down onto the tabletop, nearly sloshing beer out of her glass, “What if he has a girlfriend?” From her sudden change in demeanor, she’s already decided this is the case.

“I guess that would explain a lot,” I mutter, biting a fry in half, “but if he has a girlfriend, why would he let me anywhere near his family? They acted so welcoming, like I belonged there.”

Barrett chuckles to herself, “Maybe they hate her and they’re looking for a replacement.”

“Well,” I mumble bitterly, “that worked out well, didn’t it?”

Barrett scrunches up her nose in sympathy, “I’m sorry.” Then she suddenly sits up with a snap of her fingers, “Hey, this is just like Dirty Dancing!”

“How?” I hood my eyes, shooting her a dubious look, “I guess there were trees and cabins, but that’s about it.”

“And romance!” Barrett’s hand flies to her chest in dramatic fashion, “She’s like the wind, through my tree-es!” she croons across the table.

I rub the bridge of my nose in embarrassment, “Oh, god.”

She smacks the edge of the table and lets out a cackle, “Granted, I’m sure he’s no Patrick Swayze.”

I give a shrug and take a sip of beer, “I mean, who is?”

“Well, unless he is Patrick Swayze reincarnate, I say forget about him and move on. Shouldn’t you be leaving the country soon, anyway?”

“Not for about four months—in December.”

“I thought you were going to see Jo next month.”

“No, their contractors had to reschedule and their remodel got pushed. I was already going there for Christmas, so there’s no point in making two big trips.”

I haven’t traveled out of the United States in nearly two years. The last time I did, I visited my parents in Spain. I haven’t been to visit my sister in Toronto since before then, and I’m ready for a longer vacation. Maybe I’ll even forget this micro-vacation in the process.

Fat fucking chance…

“Did you see Katie’s text today,” thankfully, Barrett changes the subject, “about her neighbor and his fiancée?”

“Yeah,” I laugh, “sounds like she…” my voice trails off and I immediately lose my train of thought when I sense someone sit down on the bench next to me.

My eyes round as an arm reaches in front of me, sticks its hand into my plate, and plucks out a French fry. Barrett stares at the intruder, mid-chew, her nostrils flaring. I continue glaring at my plate, my mouth half open in disgust, as the arm retracts back into my periphery. We’re no strangers to overzealous flirting, especially at Calhoun’s, but hands in my food crosses the line.

I jerk my head to the left, shooting a dirty look at whatever arrogant son of a bitch just stuck his fingers in my dinner, only to be rendered speechless.

Bowen Garrison is staring back at me.

I blink, my mouth falls open, and my brain short-circuits. There must be a rip in time and space, because he doesn’t belong here, he only exists in a place I’ve left behind. And, yet, here he is, sitting right in front of me.

And he’s looking at me like he’s been here all along.

Chewing my French fry, he waits patiently to see what I’ll do next. He looks slightly different; instead of his hair swooped wildly across his forehead, it’s combed back diagonally toward his buzzed scalp, and instead of a t-shirt, he’s wearing a black polo tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans.

I’m not thinking. Maybe I’m in shock.

His mouth stretches into its massive, quintessential Cheshire Cat grin and, as soon as it does, I lunge from my seat and throw my arms around his shoulders. He leans back, absorbing the impact, and wraps his arms around me, his familiar laugh ringing in my ear as I press my cheek into the side of his neck.

Finally, I pull back, still stunned, “What are you doing here?” I finally blurt out.

Bowen shoots me a look as if I should already know, “I came to see you.”

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