Page 37 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

“You might have started out there,” Gaston says, “but you’re Cali through and through.”

“Did Watson tell you where I was from?” I ask, but Gaston has already headed to the bar. He collects his stein and motions for his friend to come with him.

Dang it.

I turn to Grant. “Do you think I’m more LA than Alabama?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never been good at figuring those things out.” He fiddles with the stick. “You want to play another game?”

I do not. I need to think. But first, I want to learn from this mistake.

“What made so many guys come over to me when I chased after the beaver’s eye?”

Grant slowly reracks the balls. “You seemed like you needed help.”

“From six people?”

He painstakingly pulls one ball at a time from the pockets.

“Grant!”

“Might have been those pink panties you flashed everybody.”

My hands fly to my skirt, even though everything is perfectly in place at the moment. I glance around to see if anyone else is listening, but Becca has disappeared again, and the two couples have left.

“What do my panties have to do with anything?” I hiss.

“Seems like you wanted someone looking.”

“What!”

“You obviously made yourself trip and fall. You wanted us to look. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Seemed like an easy roll in the hay to everyone in the room.”

Oh, geez. Oh, geez. This meet-cute idea has backfired spectacularly.

I head back to our table and snatch up my clutch. “Thank you so much for dinner, Grant. It’s been a real experience.”

He doesn’t come after me. “Okay, Kelsey.”

I race past the bathrooms and up the back stairs. I don’t pause until I’m in my room and flung across my bed with my laptop. I need to write an email and pour these feelings out.

This failure is more crushing than the coffee shop.

For a woman who likes to think of herself as smart and well grounded, I sure have been acting like the ditzy blonde who’s the butt of the joke.

Chapter 12

ZACHERYMEETS THEBEAVER

I make it to the Pitchfork Lodge shortly before midnight. The LA traffic ran me later than I liked, but I’m feeling awake and borderline agitated as I enter beneath the antler arch Kelsey told me about before she left for her date.

I didn’t hear much from her afterward. I had to text her three times to get any response. She only said it didn’t go well, but she was in her room and safe.

I’m familiar with this pattern. It’s the one where some asshole has sunk her pride, made her feel small. She goes silent, even with me.

I’ll kill him.

The lobby is deserted other than all the dead creatures staring at me from shiny glass eyes. I spot the beaver she talked about.

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