Page 66 of Single Chance

I shook my head. “Not more. With Sam and now another one on the way, I’ve got more than I can handle, and so does she. We’re both good with keeping it platonic.”

He watched me a couple of seconds longer than necessary, as if he didn’t believe me.

“Really,” I said. “The stakes are high. Neither of us wants to risk getting further involved and having it not work out. Not when we have eighteen years of co-parenting ahead of us.”

He nodded once. “That’s understandable, I guess, if there’s no chemistry.”

Oh, there was fucking chemistry. Judging by last night, the chemistry was highly flammable. But that didn’t mean we had to give in to it. I’d managed to not give in to it every night except last night so far. Last night I’d made a mistake, but it wouldn’t happen again.

“She plans to move out once she’s back on her feet,” I assured him. “Shall we get the hell to our own party?”

“That’s a plan. I hope to find time to eat. The food smells incredible.”

We headed out of his office together, down the short hall, and entered the public room on the main level.

Dozens of guests milled around, some couples, some larger groups as we’d hoped, all of them dressed to the hilt, and most of them with a beer in their hand. The noise level was loud and festive.

“My sister-in-law looks like she’s about to pop,” Holden said.

I followed his gaze to Ava and Cash. Ava, who was only a handful of weeks out from her due date, wore a hot pink thigh-length dress that gathered above her very pregnant belly then draped over her baby bump. On her feet were matching hot-pink glittery sneakers. Cash hovered over her as if he was afraid she might go into labor in the next five minutes.

Holden headed for them, but I stayed back, scanning the room for any of our six special-guest parties who were in the market for a venue. I wasn’t going to hard-sell them, but I would give them a little special treatment.

I didn’t spot any of them, so I strode along the windowed side of the room that showed off the brewhouse, still searching, still coming up empty. I’d check again later.

When I turned, I stopped in my tracks at the vision before me.

Rowan had just come in the from the offices. She stood at the other end of the crowd, as I had, giving me the chance to soak up her beauty before she saw me.

She wore a short burgundy dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a sequined neckline that dipped low enough to give me and the world a sample of her cleavage. It was by no means risqué, was perfectly appropriate for a work event. But the images that flashed through my mind were anything but suitable for the office.

I forced my gaze away before she saw me, then headed to the stairs to check on the guests up there. I was going to need some time to cool my thoughts off, plus a whole lot of self-coaching, before I interacted with the knockout mother of my unborn child.

Rowan

Two hours into it, the Ode to Love and Beer party was, from my inexperienced perspective, turning out to be a sparkling success.

We’d sold out tickets. Beer was flowing. Merch was selling like crazy. Moods were flying high, and compliments on the seasonal flavors abounded. Everyone raved about the food as well.

Everything was coming up roses and romance for this company I was beginning to genuinely love.

In spite of the joy and success surrounding me, my agitation grew as the night went on.

Though Chance and I had both been at work since eight this morning, often in the same room, working on the same thing, he had yet to say anything personal to me.

That kiss last night had him running scared, and while a part of me was amused, that wasn’t going to fly. Not when we lived and worked together. He’d been the one to say we needed to communicate.

The time had come for me to force communication.

I excused myself from the upstairs table of Chloe’s friends, who were becoming my friends too—Presley, Anna, and Olivia—and went to the stairs. I’d seen Chance head down a few minutes ago.

The main floor was even more crowded than the upper level, with a huddle of people around the serving counter, another few gathered at the merch station, and the area we’d roped off as the dance floor overflowing.

Holden and Kemp stood near the floor-to-ceiling window to the brewhouse, filling their men-of-the-hour roles jovially as a continuous flow of guests mingled with them. I had no doubt everyone was singing their praises, as they deserved. I’d allowed myself one taste of Kemp’s Love Is the Pits, mainly to see what everyone was talking about. It was dangerously delicious.

I eventually spotted Chance talking with a group I realized might be his dad group. A couple of the guys were without dates, and several had brought their wives or fiancées. I’d met Knox, Holden’s brother, and his wife, Quincy. I was guessing the other couple was Max, the football coach, and Harper, who owned Earthly Charm on the square.

I kept Chance in my sights as I mingled my way closer, stopping to talk to guests, asking them their opinions of the seasonal brews, and making sure they didn’t want for anything. I was biding my time, waiting for the right moment.

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