Page 5 of Merrily Mine
But damn, this was so not what I needed right now.
“You should go say hi,” Jonah said, smirking.
I pushed at his shoulder. “That defeats the purpose of celebrating being single, doesn’t it?”
“Nah. You deserve a little fun.”
Grumbling, I downed the rest of my beer. “Maybe I’m just not any fun anymore.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Jonah quirked an eyebrow. “Is it?”
Scrubbing my hand across my beard, I pondered that thought. Fun. “I haven’t been with anyone since?—”
“Since Maggie. I know.”
God, was it that obvious? I sighed. “Fuck, man. I’m not ready for a relationship, and you know it.”
“Now, who said anything about arelationship?” He gave me a shit-eating grin. “Just go say hi to the beautiful woman, Mace. Have fun, remember?”
“I don’t know.” I rolled my empty glass between my hands. “You sure? I don’t want to ditch you.”
“Yes, my man.Go. She’s been looking over here and checking you out, too.” My best friend grinned. “Show her you know how to show a lady a good time, alright?”
Fuck it. I could be fun. I could go flirt with the most gorgeous girl in this godforsaken bar and not think about tomorrow. For tonight, I could pretend I wasn’t going home alone to an empty cabin. That my marriage hadn’t failed, setting me back to square one at thirty-five years old.
My entire life, I’d had a plan for my future. Only now that I was here, closer to forty than I was to thirty, none of it had come true. Still, the ranch would be mine soon. That was something.
Maybe I’d wasted my youth on the wrong woman, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I adjusted the hat on my brow before sliding my thumbs into my front pockets. Was I really going to do this? Go over there and say… what?Hi?
What the fuck was I supposed to say? The last time I’d asked a girl out, I was in college.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was halfway across the bar. No turning back now. I could do this. I could be that guy again.
Sliding in behind her, I wrapped my hand over her waist, letting it rest on her hip as I dipped my head down to whisper in her ear. “Hey, gorgeous.” She turned around, and—“Fuck.”
I knew her. She wasn’t just some brunette beauty in a bar—this was my childhood best friend’s little sister.Emily Sullivan.
Little Emmie Sullivan.
Jesus, how could I not have recognized her? I stepped back, pulling my arm back, so I wasn’t touching her. Still, the sensation fizzled from where my skin had brushed over hers, like there were actual sparks. It felt I was a goddamn high schooler all over again. “I didn’t?—”
“What, cowboy?” She cocked her head, fluttering her eyelashes. “Expecting someone else?”
It had been years since I’d seen her, andgoddamn. Maybe that was why I was completely tongue-tied, standing in front of her like I couldn’t remember my own name.
Her redheaded friend at her side laughed, whispered something in her ear, and then disappeared back towards a table.
“Hi, Em,” I croaked. I didn’t know what I expected seeing her for the first time after all these years, but it hadn’t been this. The years had been good to her. She was a far cry from the shy little kid she was back when I was in high school and spent every day with Hunter.
Emily was nothing like I remembered. She was even more gorgeous up close, where I could appreciate every inch of her body. That silky brown hair that hung down her back. Her dark green eyes reminded me of Christmas trees. Her body, wrapped up in jeans that clung to every curve and a black top that showed off mouthwatering cleavage. Lips painted red as sin. Sultry eyes. Fuck.
All things I absolutely should not be noticing about Hunter’s little sister. I shut my eyes. Damn.Hunter. We were best friends growing up, though we’d grown apart when we’d gone to different colleges. It was understandable, though. He’d gone to medical school and become a pediatric doctor, while I’d been perfectly happy staying at Montana State and getting a degree in Ranch Management.
After all, one day the Elliott horse ranch would be mine. Except… I’d met Maggie and had ended up in Washington. In the life I thought would fulfill me—would make me happy. But it hadn’t. It had just left me bitter and resentful, and we wanted two different things.
