Page 5 of Mended Fences
Perhaps tonight I could channel twenty-year-old Elena, who was driven in her pre-med studies but also knew how to have a good time when her best friend twisted her arm just enough to leave the library.
“Does that line usually work on women?” I asked as I took a small sip from my glass of Sauvignon Blanc and raised a brow.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed my suspicion. He looked strikingly similar to the man Tessa was speaking with on the other side of the bar. She’d just gone into business with the Evertons to get out from under her father’s thumb, and I knew she had a thing for one of the twins she’d graduated high school with in this thimble-sized town.
Chaz, maybe?
“It does.” He threw back his beer. My gaze zeroed in on his throat as it worked through a swallow. He set his bottle on the table between us and continued. “But if it doesn’t, this”—he circled his index finger around his face—“usually does the trick.” Chaz grinned.
I scowled.
“Or this.” He flexed a bicep.
I had to hand it to him. Hewaspretty. Perhaps a littletooperfect. He lacked character.
“It’s Chaz, right?”
His smile fell and morphed into a frown. The smidge of triumph I felt instantly lifted my endlessly pissy mood.
“Chase, actually.”
Oops.The giggle that escaped my throat couldn’t be helped. I shrugged a shoulder. “I was close.”
One corner ofChase’smouth quirked up, drawing my attention. “And what’s your name, baby?”
“Definitely notbaby, but maybe if you try out a few more useless endearments, you’ll get a little warmer.”
He opened his mouth with what I was sure would have been a comical retort but was interrupted.
“Sorry, Chase,” Tessa said from where she was standing at the end of our booth. She hitched a thumb in my direction. “This one’s married.”
Surprise flashed across his face, and his eyes flicked to my ring finger as my entire hand twitched around the stem of my wine glass.
So much for pretending to be someone else.
“That so?” Chase asked.
I forced a smile that likely appeared more like a grimace.
I owed this man nothing; I didn’t even know him. Yet somehow, it still felt like a betrayal—and not of my husband, but ofChase. The small sliver of attention this man had gifted me—one I didn’t have to hide from prying eyes for fear of the repercussions—touched some long-starved part of my soul. I wouldn’t examine it more closely than that.
“Well, I’ll let you ladies get back to your evening. Nice to meet you…” He raised a brow in my direction.
“Elena.” Giving him this one tidbit of information about me felt like the least I could do.
“Nice to meet you, Elena.” His smile was warm. Genuine, if not a little defeated.When was the last time a man smiled like that at me?
Chase nodded at Tessa as he rose from the booth, returning to his spot at the bar with his brother and their friend.
“Brown Eyed Girl” filtered through the conversations and laughter in the dimly lit bar, and I struggled to hold back the tears that were fighting to break free.
“Alright, lady. Out with it,” my best friend said. “What’s with the face?”
“What face?” I pointed at myself, hoping to deflect with humor. But my hand trembled, betraying my struggle. “This face?”
“That’s the one. Beautiful though it may be”—Tessa granted me a soft, melancholy smile—“it’s looking all sorts of sad. What’s going on?”
She knew me too damn well. That’s what happened when you spent so many years attached to someone’s hip. When they were yourperson—the one you called when you were happy or sad, excited, or scared.
