Page 42 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

She sinks into a chair and crosses her ankles underneath her, pulling her skirt over her knees.

“Work was work,” Boone answers.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He is practically smitten. The smell of sex is in the air. He is almost forgetting to be heartbroken over Anastasia.

This was a great idea. Who thought of this?

Oh yeah. Me.

“Did you grow up here?” I ask, watching her closely as she sips her wine.

“Sure did,” she answers. “I have actually never been out of Tennessee. One time we went to Nashville. I grew up simple.”

“In Chattanooga?”

“Yep, the whole crew. I mean aunts and uncles and stuff. I was an only child. So after my mama retired to Florida with her new husband, I was the only one left. Just me.”

“That girl that who drove you here? That’s not your sister?”

“Oh, Emily?” she laughs, throwing her head back. “No, not my sister. We grew up together, but... I don’t even think she likes me very much. But we have each other, you know what I mean? You can’t just walk away.”

I have to admit, that stings a little bit. It makes me think about Amber. Which is annoying, because I don’t want to think about Amber right at this moment when I am trying to look up Jolene’s dress.

But, yes, I do know what it is like to feel like you can’t walk away.

“No family, then? And still you stayed here?”

She yawns, stretching her arms over her head. I like seeing her bare underarms. Something so unprotected and tender about that.

“Why shouldn’t I stay?” she asks. “Tennessee is practically heaven on earth. Another way of looking at it is, I didn’t have anything left to run away from. Right?”

Boone chuckles into his glass. “She’s got you there,” he quips.

“You’re very clever,” I observe.

She narrows her eyes at me and inhales as she leans forward.

“Oh am I?”

“Yes, you are,” I confirm.

“Is that good for you? Or do you always expect to be the only clever person in the room?”

“Ha!” Boone barks as he laughs.

“That’s enough, Boone,” I sniff.

“Oh, don’t fuss at him,” she scolds me, leaning closer and sliding her palms up my knees and thighs.

Her fingertips play along the outside of my legs, dancing over the openings to my pockets, the belt loops, the snaps of my work pants.

“You ready for more?”

“Practically starving,” she winks at me.

Chapter 17

JOLENE

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