Page 104 of Single Chance

“One of each,” Presley answered, making us laugh.

“I got you,” Quincy said.

“You seriously just quit?” Olivia asked Presley.

“She’s needed to for a while,” Chloe said. “Her boss is a douche wagon.”

“She speaks the truth,” Presley said. “But I didn’t intend to waltz in here and steal the show. How’s our resident pregnant lady?”

“I’m good even without the pretty cocktails,” I said, laughing.

“This girl definitely has that newlywed glow about her,” Anna said.

“That on top of the pregnancy glow…” Presley said. “You really do look alive and happy.”

“I am,” I assured her. “I’m truly blessed. And dying to know about your job.”

“Ex job,” Presley said. “So one of the partners is retiring. I told the douche wagon I was interested in going for partner. He told me not to bother, that I wouldn’t get it. I considered my options on the spot—prove him wrong and get the position, or get that worm out of my life for good. He was so smug and self-satisfied and privileged white male, so…I told him what he could do with the job.”

Quincy handed her a Blue Bayou.

“Thank you,” Presley said, then closed her eyes and savored her first sip. “Walking out of that place with my box of belongings? Best. Feeling. Ever.”

“You go, girl,” Olivia said.

“Wow,” Magnolia said. “Brave woman.”

Presley waved it off. “Happy woman. Screw him. I decided on the drive here I’m moving to my lake house as soon as possible.”

“Awesome,” I said, meaning it. “You’ll love it here.”

Chloe laughed and shook her head. “It’s almost like you planned it.”

“Not consciously, but everything’s working out,” Presley said.

The servers from Henry’s indicated that the food—an assortment of heavy appetizers—was ready. Holden took charge of encouraging our guests to fill their plates.

As people made their way toward the long table of food, Presley grabbed my arm and Chloe’s and said under her breath, “Who isthat?”

Chloe and I followed her gaze to the group of men standing near the bar.

“With the beard?” Chloe said.

Presley’s reply was an affirmative growl.

“Down, girl,” I said.

“Is he taken?” Presley asked.

“It’s West Aldridge,” Chloe said quietly. “Not taken as far as I know.”

“Very single,” I affirmed, as Chance had told me how anti-relationship West was after his last breakup broke his daughters’ hearts.

The rest of the group meandered toward the food table, so the three of us gathered closer together.

“He’s so not your type, Pres,” Chloe said.

“I don’t have a type. I rarely take time for guys, as you well know,” Presley said. “But suddenly I’m feeling footloose and fancy free.”

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