Page 36 of Against All Odds

I sighed, tossing the rag onto the bar and rubbing my temples. I should never have said yes to a date with Heath.

“You okay?” Casey asked, glancing over from the register, where she was counting bills into neat stacks. That had become her standard question.

“Yeah,” I lied, giving her my standard answer. The truth was that I wanted to curl into a fetal position and stay there forever. “Just tired.”

She looked at me as if she knew better but wasn’t going to push it. I appreciated that about Casey. She let me carry my exhaustion and frustration in peace, knowing I wasn’t in the mood for pep talks or platitudes. Thankfully, Ben wasn’t at the Wildflower tonight because he was at one of his grandson’s soccer games. I knew that he wouldn’t have been reticent in telling me to get some steel in my spine, and stop whining and living in the past. And it wouldn’tmatter to him if I told him that I wasn’t the one stuck in the past—it was everyone else in Aspen who was.

“You can only control how you react to what someone says. You can’t control what they say.”

As I said, it had been a night, and I didn’t need more aggravation when it walked in right before closing.

The sight of Heath made my pulse do a stupid little stutter, even though I told myself to calm the fuck down.

He was dressed in his usual understated style—a gray sweater and jeans—but his presence filled the tavern. The tourists were gone now, the chairs were stacked on the tables, and Casey was halfway out the door, so it was just me and him in the soft glow of the tavern lights.

“We’re closing,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He gave me a small smile as he walked toward the bar. “Yeah, but I’m a special friend of the owner.”

Was he?I had to quell this…whateverthiswas right now and right here. Already, it was making my life difficult. I didn’t need more complications than I already had.

“I just want a beer, Bambi. " He dropped his voice so only I could hear him, feel the huskiness of it, and remember how he called me that nickname when we’d made love.

Then, he handed me a bouquet as if I wasn’t already hot and bothered. My breath caught. When was the last time someone got me flowers? Not Jack. Was there a boyfriend in the past? Maybe, but I couldn’t remember. It was such a mundane thing, receivingflowers—everyone did at some point or other, but I didn’t think I had.

“Thank you. These are gorgeous.”

“Your friend Dina says hello.”

Dina and I used to work at the homeless shelter’s soup kitchen before I took over the bar. Now, I didn’t have as much free time as I did when I worked at the bank.

“She said that the flowers would be fine for several hours without putting them in a vase.”

I set the flowers down on the counter in front of him. “I’ll take them home.”

“They reminded me of you. Natural, pretty, andreal.”

I cleared my throat because my emotions caught my voice at his compliment. “We have an IPA on tap. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, that works.” He sat on a barstool across from me, his elbows resting on the edge. “Busy night?”

“Yes.” I pulled him a beer and set it in front of him.

“You look…beautifulandtired.”

I glanced at the glassware I still needed to clean. “I feel more tired than anything else. How come you’re here?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I came to see you. I texted, but you didn’t respond.”

“I was busy.”

“Were you?” His voice was warm, cajoling.

I stopped wiping a beer glass and looked at him. “I’vehad more locals come to Wildflower than ever since I started here.”

He just looked at me, his gray-blue eyes softening, welcoming.

“I’m either a homewrecking slut,orI’m reaching way above my station,orI’m lucky to have your attention.”

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