What did he say? A half a dozen things popped into his head. I miss you. You look good. Are you happy? There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did. But the only thing that came out of his mouth was “Hi.”
She continued to stare at him, her gaze slightly unfocused.
“Can I sit?” He motioned to the stool next to her.
His question snapped her out of her daze. She gave him a half shrug, then turned to face the bar. “I can’t stop you.”
He took the fact that she hadn’t kneed him in the balls as a good sign. He slid onto the leather stool as she leaned her elbows on the counter, swaying slightly. No one else would ever notice, but he’d spent the better part of a year studying her instead of his law books. The Blair he knew didn’t get drunk. “What are you doing in Phoenix?”
“Passing through.” She took a sip of her drink.
He was going to need fortitude. He flagged down the bartender. “I’ll take a draft beer. You got Coors?”
The bartender nodded and went to get his drink. Blair chuckled, but it was a brittle sound. “You still drink that crap?”
“Crap?” He leaned his forearms on the bar. “It’s made from pure mountain spring water.”
She laughed, a genuine laugh, and something in his chest seized with a longing that caught him by surprise. He’d missed her, but the ache was even stronger now that she was beside him.
She turned to him, her gaze searching his face. “Are you married?”
He couldn’t believe he was sitting with her now. Maybe this was the universe giving him a gift he didn’t deserve, or maybe it was some uniquely horrible form of torture. Either way, he’d take it, but he had to tread lightly. He wanted to tell her what an idiot he’d been, but he needed to take this slow or he would scare her off. Every moment he had with her was a gift, and he wasn’t about to screw that up. He forced a chuckle. “What do you think?” He instantly knew it was a mistake.
“Still footloose and fancy-free, huh?” She waved her glass to accentuate her words.
The bartender handed him his beer, and he grinned. “Since when did you start saying things like ‘footloose and fancy-free’?”
“Since I drank three whiskeys, two of them doubles.” She lifted her glass in salute and took a sip. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
He smirked, even if his heart wasn’t in it. “You bet I am. You?” He glanced down at her left hand, and his heart sank.
She held up her hand, the better to blind him, flashing a gold ring with multiple diamonds.
He swallowed his disappointment and for a moment actually considered getting up and walking away. He wasn’t sure he could sit here and pretend to be happy for her, or that his mind hadn’t spun into overdrive with excitement and possibilities the moment he saw her, but he also wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he acted that way. After all, he was the one who’d left and hurt her all those years ago. He owed her more than that. “Really, Blair? You don’t seem like the marrying kind.”
“People surprise you.” She grinned, but there was a bitter note in her voice.
He wanted to apologize—every fiber of his being demanded that he apologize. But he couldn’t. Despite what she thought, he knew her. The second he apologized, she’d kick his ass—probably physically as well as verbally—and walk away forever. Blair couldn’t stomach any sign of weakness, especially in herself. If he let this conversation get even borderline sappy, it was done.
“So tell me about the poor fool you ended up with.” He forced a grin.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Why? So you can make fun of him?”
“Depends. You know me. I make fun of anyone who believes in the Hallmark version of love.”
She laughed. “We both did.”
Yet she’d loved him once. And even though neither of them were sappy, what Garrett and Blair shared had been intense yet fun.
“Remember Anti-Valentine’s Day?” she asked, laughing as she watched him.
His breath caught in his throat. Her face was less than two feet away, and he had a powerful urge to lean over and kiss her, but that would ruin everything. He pulled himself together.
“How could I forget Anti-Valentine’s Day?” They’d gone out of their way to do the exact opposite of a typical Valentine’s Day celebration, opting for Chuck E. Cheese and arcade games and crappy pizza rather than roses and wine. Then Garrett led her to the roof of his three-story apartment building, where he’d set up a telescope, and showed her the star he’d bought for her and named Blazing Supernova. When she argued that the speck of dust he’d bought her wasn’t a supernova, he told her she burned brighter than any star in the sky, though of course he teased her too, so it wouldn’t come across as sentimental. And he gave her a plastic ring he’d won at Chuck E. Cheese, telling her that someday he’d give her a real ring, but it would be on October 14, because it was the farthest a person could get from Valentine’s Day.
Two months later he had ruined everything.
“Remember when we made fun of those idiots who were fighting over the last batch of roses at the grocery store?” she laughed, then finished her drink and motioned to the bartender.
Blair was a social drinker. She only got shit-faced when she was upset. Now he was worried about her. “So does your guy buy you flowers?”
“Hell, no,” she scoffed, wobbling on her stool. “He’s too practical for that.”
“So what does he do?”
Her eyebrows lowered, and she spent several seconds deep in thought. To his alarm, tears filled her eyes. “He programed my remote.”
He shook his head in mock appreciation. “An admirable gift.”
Her attention drifted over his shoulder, and he turned to see a hotel employee walking toward them.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The skittish woman looked like she was about to bolt. “There aren’t any rooms available here at the hotel or any other hotel in a twenty-mile radius. We checked.” She cringed. “Twice.”
Blair blinked, and her eyes struggled to focus on the woman. “There are no rooms anywhere?” The sentence ended in a shout.
The employee jumped. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Ma’am?” Blair jumped off her stool and nearly fell over as she pointed her finger at the poor woman. “I’m not a ma’am! I could sue you for that!”
Garrett slid off his stool and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his stomach. “Whoa, down there, tiger.”
She looked over her shoulder and up at him, horror in her eyes. “She called me ma’am. How could she do that?”
Garrett gave her a sympathetic look. “Clearly the poor woman needs glasses, but I hardly think it’s worth suing over.”
Blair twisted in his arms until her chest was pressed against his, and she looked up at him. “There’s no room for me in the inn, Garrett.”
The seriousness on her face made him chuckle. “I’ll find you a stable somewhere, Blazer. Not to worry.” His old nickname for her slipped out before he could reel it back in, but thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.
“I hate horses,” she grumbled, resting her cheek on his chest.
“I know. I’ll make sure there aren’t any horses.”
The poor employee watched them in confusion, then lifted her gaze to Garrett. He winked. “She was joking about suing.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Blair mumbled.
The employee’s eyes widened, and Garrett mouthed run.
The woman took off, and Garrett helped Blair back onto her stool. The bartender returned with Blair’s drink, but Garrett pushed it away before she could see it. “Can you bring a couple of waters and a couple of cheeseburgers, one with extra pickles?”
Blair laid her head down on the bar. “I like pickles.”
“I know.” He was glad she was too drunk to hear the sorrow in his voice.
Her head jerked up, and her eyes widened. “I have to find somewhere to stay tonight.”
“Blair, I’ve alrea
dy figured it out. Let’s eat, and then we’ll talk about it.”
She laid her head down on her arm. “Okay.”
He watched her for several seconds, wondering what had made her so upset. He’d only seen her this drunk once before—the night she’d learned that her mother was moving from Kansas City to Des Moines. He had been her anchor then.
Now she was a mess, and she literally had nowhere to go. He wasn’t about to leave her here. He could spend the rest of his life beating himself up over something that was already done, or he could try to make things right. And other than Blair, Garrett wasn’t a man to live in the past and dwell on mistakes. Now was the time to act.
He asked the bartender to have the food sent to his room, and then he helped Blair off her stool. “Come on, Blazer. They found you a room.”
She lifted her head slightly. “They did?”
“Yeah, your attorney skills must be top notch. All that talk about suing convinced them to find you one.” He reached for her. “Let me help you find it.”
She sat up and fumbled as she batted his hands away. “I don’t need any help. Especially not from you.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Of course you don’t. But they asked me to escort you. So there’s no further lawsuit-worthy issues.”
Her nose scrunched. She was clearly confused, but drunk enough to believe him. She slid off the stool and reached for her overnight bag, nearly tripping when she tugged it off the ground.
He grabbed the bag and slung her purse over his shoulder too.
She shook her head and nearly fell over. “I don’t think that bag goes with your outfit.”
He grabbed her elbow to steady her. The bag was made of off-white, uber-shiny patent leather with a shiny gold clasp. It had probably cost a fortune. When he compared it to his jeans and pale blue button-up shirt covered in red stains from the Bloody Mary the passenger next to him had spilled during the turbulence, he flashed her a cocky grin. “Really? I thought jeans went with everything.”
She looked up into his face, her eyes searching his. “Why do you still have to be funny? And cute?” She slapped his chest, then left her hand there. “Why aren’t you fat and bald?”
“Because, Blair Myers, as you and I both know, there’s really no such thing as justice in this world.” He kept his tone light and teasing, although perhaps this chance meeting proved there was justice in the world. He deserved every bit of pain it brought him. That seemed like justice to him.
She lifted her chin. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I never asked.”
She jerked out of his hold and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not good enough for the high and mighty Garrett Lowry?”
“You know me, Blazer. Never go to the same pasture twice.” She’d accused him of that once, right before they left law school. It had stung deeper than he’d let on.
“I’m the best lay you ever had, Lowry.”
“It’s been too long and too many pastures ago to say, Blazer, but I’m sure you make the top five.” He knew she was beyond drunk when she had no reply. “Come on, the hotel staff asked me to show you to your room.”
He reached for her arm again, grateful when she didn’t shrug him off. He led her to the elevator, slightly worried the hotel staff would think he was taking advantage of her inebriation. But Blair’s drunken threats seemed to have staved off any such worries. Once they got on the elevator, his thankfulness turned to anger. Anyone could have taken advantage of her. But he knew that wasn’t true. Blair Myers was nobody’s fool, drunk or not. The fact that she trusted him now told him that she still cared about him. At least on some level.
When they reached his room, he pulled out his key and opened the door, leading her inside.
“There’s already a suitcase in here,” she said as she wobbled across the room. She kicked off her heels mid-stride.
“It’s mine,” he said, watching her. “They brought it up here when they asked me to show you to your room.” It was utter nonsense, but she was drunk enough to buy it. If he let on that the room had originally been his, there was no way she would stay in it, drunk or not.
“Oh.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m still not sleeping with you.” She waved her left hand, the diamonds in her ring catching the light. “I’m not a cheater.”
He leaned his ass against the dresser. “I never cheated on you, Blair.”
She tilted her head to look at him. “No, I’ll give you that. I guess you’d left me before you slept with her.” He knew who she was talking about, of course. He hadn’t slept with her, but this wasn’t the time for an explanation. Blair glanced at his suitcase, then back at him. “You don’t live in Phoenix?”
“Nope. Looks like we both got stranded here.”
“So where are you going to sleep?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t gotten that far in this crazy scheme. “After I know you’re settled, I can go back to the airport.”
She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, leaving it gaping open, so that he could see the swell of her breasts in her black bra and the creamy flesh of her abdomen.
God help him, but he was getting turned on by a drunk woman.
But this wasn’t just any drunk woman. This was Blair. Blair. How many nights had he thought of her naked body, the feel of her beneath him as he filled her . . . But it didn’t matter what his body—or his mind—remembered. He wasn’t about to try anything with her. He respected her more than that.
She settled back onto the bed, her legs curled to the side, and stared up at the ceiling. “You can’t go to the airport.” She licked her bottom lip and then sighed. “You can stay here.”
“It’s your room, Blazer. Besides, you already said you weren’t going to have sex with me.”
She awkwardly reached over and patted the other side of the mattress. “It’s a big bed, and I’m a used pasture. You can sleep over there.”
He wanted to stay with her, but based on the way he couldn’t take his eyes off the curve of her hips in her skirt or her exposed cleavage, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “That is a very generous offer, but maybe I should head out now that you’re settled.” He could always grab some food at the airport. God knew, she could probably use both burgers after all the whiskey she’d downed.
She sat up and tears filled her eyes. “You’re leaving me again.”
Something in her voice ripped his heart to shreds. He’d sooner set himself on fire than make her feel that way again.
“No, Blair,” he said softly. “I’m not leaving you.” He moved to the bed and sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her back and pulling her close. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah.” But her eyes sunk closed.
They sat there for five minutes, Blair dozing against him as he cradled her to his chest. He closed his eyes and drank her in—the sight of her, the smell of her, the familiarity of her. The scab on his heart ripped open, leaving him bruised and raw. She only wore an engagement ring. That meant she probably wasn’t married yet. Maybe in the morning when she was sober, they could talk, and he could tell her everything—that he was an utter idiot, but he was miserable without her, and he’d do anything to win her back. Literally anything.
Maybe there was hope for them.
Room service knocked on the door, and he gently settled her back onto the bed before he signed for the food. He considered waking her to eat, but she looked so peaceful he couldn’t disturb her. He ate his burger while he checked his email and studied for his deposition in the morning, all the while sneaking glances at her. Watching her was surreal. He’d never expected to see her again, let alone have her on his bed. Of course, he’d prefer to have her doing other things in his bed, but the peace and happiness he felt in her mere presence was a telling sign of how he felt.
Soon her draw was too strong. He changed into a T-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts and carefully lay down on the bed next to her, both of them on top of the comforter. She stir
red, and he studied her face, taking in every detail and committing it to memory in case she refused to listen to him, which, he realized, was the most likely scenario. Blair was firmly against second chances. The way she’d turned her back on her father was proof enough of that.
She sighed and rolled over again, pressing her back to his stomach. He held his breath, waiting for her to wake up and accuse him of trying to take advantage of her. But she soon stilled, pulling his arm tighter against her stomach. He breathed in her scent, drowning in memories. She still used the same vanilla-scented shampoo.
“I miss you, Garrett,” she mumbled, and he froze. If she hadn’t said his name, he would have thought she was talking about her fiancé/husband. But she had said his name. So he wasn’t the only one who still had feelings.
He could make this work. He’d figure out a way. Screw Neil’s damn wedding. Screw the Norfolk depositions. He’d stay here with her as long as it took to convince her to give him a second chance.
But when he woke the next morning, the room still dark, he was devastated to find her side of the bed empty.
Blair was gone.
Chapter Three
Blair leaned her head back against the seat on her flight to Kansas City. Tears stung her eyes, making her angry.
What the hell had happened?
She would have chalked it up to an alcohol-induced hallucination, but she was sober when the airline had texted at four-thirty—hung over, yes, but very sober. And there was no denying Garrett Lowry had been in her bed.
She’d panicked, bolting off the mattress and taking stock of her clothing. Skirt and blouse had both been on, if more than a little wrinkled, although the latter had been completely unbuttoned. All her undergarments had still been intact. The only things missing had been her shoes, which had been strewn on the floor. Even Garrett had been dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. She couldn’t remember much after seeing him at the bar, just bits and pieces. Something about horses and lawsuits, which made no sense. She vaguely remembered a woman telling her there wasn’t a room for her after all. So how had she ended up in a room with Garrett? Oh, God. Had she gotten all nostalgic and begged him to sleep with her?
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