“You guys were great!” She had her phone in her hand, clicking buttons as she gushed. “I took a video.”
“Oh, no,” Lexi replied. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Did!” Kyla held up her phone, then tapped on the screen. “Here—I’ll send it to you.”
Lexi felt her phone vibrate with the incoming text, and fought not to pull it out and watch the video right now. She had to send it to Katie. Her sister wouldn’t believe Lexi had gotten up on that stage, and done well, from the sounds of the crowd.
She smiled at Hayley and Jess as they mock-clinked their paper cups together.
Maybe she should actually think about getting a guitar named Dahlia.
—
“I, uh, I thought you said she was a singer.” Cole tipped his head like it was in pain, just after the girls had returned to their table.
Gunnar nodded slowly, his ears still smarting. “She said she was. Said she plays clubs on the weekends.”
“Is everyone in Maine…deaf?”
“The poor girl can’t sing a note, can she?”
“Heads up. The girl’s three point five seconds from your elbow.” Cole bit back a smile as he turned the other way.
“Gunnar!” Lexi gushed, and he had to smile at her. She was definitely giving 110 percent to this Lexi 2.0 campaign she was on, and though he admired her tenacity and effort, it still pissed him off that she was doing it all for a guy who should have appreciated her just the way she was. Had that guy never taken her to dinner? Never watched her eyes sparkle in candlelight? Never shared ice-cream cones with her? How could he want her to be anyone different?
She grabbed his hand, a goofy, alcohol-induced smile on her face. “Did you see us?”
“Sure did.” He tried to hide his amusement. “That was—brave.”
“The crowd loved us! It was so much fun!”
He bit his cheek. The Salty’s crowd clapped the loudest for hot girls singing badly. It was tradition.
“They sure did, Lex.”
“Hayley sent me over here to ask you to do a duet.”
“Oh, no way.” He shook his head. “No cowboys on the karaoke stage. Club rule.”
Her eyebrows came together. “But there’ve been other cow—”
“Nope. Not real ones. Salty would have our heads. Sorry, sweets. Can’t do it.”
She sighed, then brightened as a new song started. “How about dancing? Are cowboys allowed to do that?”
He couldn’t say yes. Shouldn’t say yes. He knew touching her would be an exercise in self-torture like no other. But as he looked down at her, as his arm zinged from her light touch, all he could do was shake his head and roll his eyes.
“All right, cowgirl. One dance.”
—
The next morning, Lexi woke up cuddled into the patchwork quilt on her bed, morning sun streaming through the back window. Birds were twittering in the trees outside, and she could hear the sounds of the ranch in full swing.
She blinked and sat up, trying to bring her bedside clock into focus. She hadn’t slept past six o’clock since she’d been here, but it was—what? Nine o’clock? She’d overslept by three hours?
She flopped back on the bed, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache taking hold as her phone erupted with Katie’s signature ringtone. She clicked the button to answer, but before she lifted it to her ear, she heard Katie laughing.
“Well, good morning, my wild and crazy sister!”
“What?” Lexi blinked hard to clear the cobwebs.
“You’re a karaoke goddess! Who knew?”
“Huh?” Lexi sat up. “What are you talking about?”
There was a pause on the other end. “Lex? Please tell me you know that you got up on a stage last night and sang your brains out…and videotaped it?”
A sudden vision of bright lights and a sparkly microphone hit Lexi, at the same time she tasted the remnants of vodka and—was that cherry?—in the back of her throat. Oh, no. She’d been drunk exactly three times in her entire life. Had she—no. She couldn’t have.
“Alexis?” Katie’s voice had a tinge of worry. “Did you drink last night?”
“No!” Lexi tipped her head. “I mean, yes. But we just had one drink, and then a bunch of those gelatin-in-a-paper-cup thingies. But they weren’t that strong.” Her voice faded as she rolled out of bed, then winced at the pain between her ears.
Okay, so maybe she was a little delusional about the alcohol content.
“Well, looks like they were strong enough to break down my little sister’s barriers and get her up on a stage with her new friends. But how are you feeling this morning?”
“Ugh. Like I got run down by a lobster boat.”
Katie laughed. “Welcome to your first hangover. It’s your first, right?”
“No.” Lexi sighed as she put on her robe and headed for the kitchenette, desperate for coffee. “But I don’t have a lot of experience in the area, so if you could just maybe talk a little more quietly, that would be great.”
“Oh, boy. Hope you have a jug of extra-strong coffee and a big bottle of Tylenol, honey. Take both, and call me tomorrow. You might be starting to feel better by then.”
“Comforting, thanks.”
“Hey, Lex? You didn’t—I mean—did you by any chance send that video to anyone else? Possibly?”
“No.” Lexi shook her head firmly, then cringed as her vision went blurry. Dammit. “I can’t even believe I sent it to you. Why would I have sent it to anyone else?”
As she said the words, she closed her eyes. Oh, holy hell. She couldn’t have. She didn’t. She wouldn’t have.
“Kate? How bad was the video?”
Katie laughed, but it felt forced to Lexi. “You were having a blast. That’s all that matters, right? So it was a little…unexpected. Isn’t that what you’re going for here?”
Unexpected? Somehow, even through her hangover fog, she knew that was Katie’s code word for omigod-girl-you-were-a-disaster.
Lexi swallowed. “I think maybe I’m going to be sick.”
“Tylenol and coffee. If you get desperate, get somebody to make you a Bloody Mary.” Katie laughed. “And maybe no making any more videos.”
After Katie’d ended the call, Lexi stared at her phone for a full thirty seconds, afraid to tap the green icon that would tell her whether she’d sent Tristan something last night. She looked at the ceiling, praying silently that she hadn’t. Then, because she was dead scared that maybe she had, she prayed that the video was at least silly and fun, not desperate and awful.
Finally, she clicked into her text messages, and to her horror, Tristan’s name popped right to the top.
With one hand to her mouth, she tapped the video, needing to see exactly what she’d sent, even though she was growing surer by the second that she was going to suffer mortal embarrassment the moment it started.
She was right.
The three of them sounded like a pack of drunk hyenas. And she was by far the worst of the lot. The crowd was loud, but not nearly loud enough to cover up the fact that she couldn’t hold a tune to save her life.
Oh. God.
Just then, there was a sharp rap at her door, and she looked up to see Gunnar through the plate-glass window. Dammit, he could see her, too, since she hadn’t pulled the shade last night. She looked down at her robe and slippers. Seriously? Was it some sort of Lexi’s Mortification Holiday?
She opened the door slowly, hoping her appearance wasn’t enough to scare him right back down the porch steps.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Gunnar smiled widely as he held out a to-go cup. “Thought maybe you could use some coffee.”
She struggled to keep her chin up, like she wasn’t suffering from the most monstrous hangover a human had ever felt. But Lexi 2.0 would take a hangover in stride, right? Not be about to jump him for that to-go cup? Just because he looked so damn delicious with his morning stubble and those damn eyelashes of his?
“Becaus
e?”
“Because…I have a feeling it’ll go well with the painkillers you should be throwing down the hatch behind it?” He smiled again. “May I come in?”
She closed her eyes, sighing, then opened the door and waved him in, defeated. “Sure.” She took the coffee as he walked past her. “Thank you for the coffee.”
“So how are you feeling?” He perched on one of the kitchen-counter stools, studying her eyes. “Should I have brought you a Bloody Mary instead?”
“God, no.” Her stomach revolted at the thought. “Coffee’s perfect. And I feel…fine.”
Gunnar laughed softly, reaching up to touch a strand of her hair. “Lex, you are a shade of green I’m not sure I’ve ever seen on a woman before. How much did you drink last night?”
“Not as much as you’d think, I’m sure. I just don’t—drink. Usually, anyway.” She waved her hand in the air. “No tolerance.”
“Are you still drunk?” He tipped his head, looking into her eyes.
“God, I hope not. I already did enough damage last night.”
“What did you do?”
She shook her head. It was too embarrassing to admit. “Nothing that can’t be cured with, say, a cyanide pill.”
He smiled. “You’re kind of cute when you’re dramatic—did you know that?”
“Oh, this is not me being dramatic. I sent Tristan a karaoke video. Because I was apparently drunk enough to think Jess, Hayley, and I didn’t sound like a pack of baby rhinos up there.”
He laughed. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” She pushed her hand through her hair, a foggy memory creeping in. “Did you, by any chance, know I was sending it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “My chaperone duties involve keeping people inside the walls and out of trouble. They don’t extend to inebriated women texting karaoke videos to their exes.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re kind of enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Nope. Not really.”
“I can’t believe I’ve come to this.” She sighed, walking over to the sink so she could blink back the tears before he saw them. “I made a complete and utter ass of myself, didn’t I? First on stage, and then by text.”
“Nah. You were just having fun. And that was the goal, right?”
“I guess so. Yes.” She felt her face fall a little bit. Had it been fun? Or had she just been using the alcohol to try to dull the pain of trying to be somebody else?
Gunnar looked at her for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what to say. Then he put down his coffee with a sigh.
“So, I have to ask, Lex—why is it you’re still hung up on a guy who—”
“—left?”
He shrugged. “The question occurs.”
Lexi looked out the window, watching a line of guests amble out on another trail ride, Cole in the lead. This time, Jess brought up the rear, and she looked so natural and happy in the saddle that Lexi felt a stab of jealousy low in her stomach.
Where would she look natural and happy? Did she even know?
“I don’t know, Gunnar.” She sat down on the stool opposite him. “I really, really don’t know.”
“Do you love him?”
Gunnar asked the question casually, but when she looked at his hand around his to-go cup, it was tense, like he was dead curious to see what she’d say.
“I—I did. I definitely…did.”
“And now?”
“I don’t think I know how to know. Does that make any sense? I mean, two months ago, I was buying a bikini for the honeymoon. I was checking out real estate in Maine. I had the paperwork for a joint checking account.”
She took a deep breath, remembering that paperwork sitting on the table the morning she’d left for work thinking she was about to be married—the last morning she’d left for work thinking that.
Had that been the straw that had broken Tristan’s back? Seeing their names next to each other on bank paperwork?
“How long were you guys together?”
Gunnar sipped his coffee like he was trying to give off the impression that he could care less, but she could feel a buzzing undertone that kept her off-kilter.
“Two years.”
He nodded appreciatively. “That’s a long time. How long before he popped the question?”
Lexi thought back to the night they’d gotten engaged. Her teenaged dreams of the moment had included moonlight, waves, and definitely tulips, because those were hands down her favorite flower. She’d pictured a nice dinner, a walk on the beach, a handsome man down on one knee.
And—you know—it’d been sort of like that.
A little, anyway…if you didn’t look too, too closely.
They’d been eating at a diner, and the topic of marriage had come up because one of her colleagues had just gotten engaged. And because she’d been dying to know whether he might ever pop the question, she’d asked if he ever pictured himself getting married.
She could almost still hear the gong that had probably gone off in his head at her question.
Um, maybe, he’d said, and she’d had to work really hard not to let her disappointment show. Someday, he’d added. I don’t know, really. Then he’d looked up. Why? Do you want to get married?
Well, someday, she’d answered. I mean, no rush or anything. Just…someday.
To…me?
No. The mailman. Who do you think?
He’d looked around the diner, like maybe he was on a hidden camera show and didn’t know it yet, and really, that should have been a sign. A big, flipping neon-with-capital-letters sign.
Well, I guess we could, he’d finally said, and instead of being insulted that he sounded as if marriage was one step up from the guillotine, she’d been thrilled that he was willing to even consider the prospect.
Another Really Big Sign.
Upon examination from two thousand miles away, it was pretty clear that the next six months had been full of neon signs, but she’d closed her eyes, bulled forward, and made it her mission to make sure he didn’t regret his proposal, such as it was.
“He didn’t really pop the question, so much. We sort of—decided together.” Yes, that sounded a little less pathetic than the reality.
“And then he un-decided?”
“Well…yes. Two weeks before the date.” She sighed. “Standard interval.”
Gunnar smiled. “I didn’t know there was a standard interval for backing out of your own wedding.”
“It’s not a standard. It’s my standard. For my life, I mean.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Never mind.”
“If you say so.” He sipped his coffee, thoughtful for a long moment. “Wait. No. I’m not supposed to let that never mind by.”
“This time, you totally can.”
“Nope. Someone beat that into me recently. What do you mean, it’s your standard?”
“It is far too lame to explain. If I told you, you’d either pity me, or be really, really embarrassed for me, and neither of those is something I can handle.”
“I promise to do neither of those things.”
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m cursed, okay?”
“Cursed? Because you got saddled with an idiot who didn’t deserve you, and he figured it out before you did?”
“Oh, it goes back way further than this idiot. Thus the Curse part. It’s ongoing.”
“How many times have you been engaged, Lexi?”
She shook her head quickly. “Not engaged. Only once on that.”
And then she told him about Jason Sanders, and about Pete Tinker, and about Ethan Stone. And while she talked, he listened carefully, nodding slowly and making appropriate sympathetic noises at appropriate intervals.
“So, once you had a ring on your finger, you thought you’d finally broken the Curse?”
“Well, yes. I mean, why wouldn’t I? We were going to get married! I thought I was set. Finally, I was the just-right girl, instead of the good-for-now one. You don’t jus
t—you know—back out of a wedding quite so easily as an eighth-grade dance.”
“And then…he did.”
She took a pained breath. “Yeah.”
Gunnar was silent for a long moment, then set his coffee cup on the counter with a solid thud.
“So it seems to me you’re right. You’re doomed.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Well,”—he shrugged—“history speaks for itself, right? I mean, you gotta admit, you’ve got a pretty strong pattern going here.”
“Is this you being sympathetic?”
“You didn’t want sympathetic, did you? This is me being realistic. You’re the one with the history. I’m just analyzing it and predicting your chances of future happiness.”
She almost snorted. “And? Is there any chance of future happiness?”
“It’s possible. Remote, but possible.”
Lexi took a deep breath. “There’s a reason they keep you working mostly with horses, isn’t there?”
“Yep. Lot of reasons. But hear me out. I’m often right about this stuff.” Gunnar stood up, leaning on the counter like he had all day. “Actually, I have a better idea. Do you like quizzes?”
“No.”
“Good. I have one for you.” He put up a finger. “The questions are easy, but you have to answer honestly. And in exchange for your honesty, I promise not to let your answers leave this cabin. Deal?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Question number one—beer or wine?”
“You’re not a very good listener. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Nope. Beer? Wine?”
“Fine.” She sighed. “Beer. Craft. Vermont-brewed.”
“See? Told you they’d be easy. Question two—cat or dog?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I’ll let that one slide, even though cat brains are only as big as a walnut.”
“Cats are sweet.”
“You clearly haven’t met the Whisper Creek barn cats yet. But that’s irrelevant. Next question—chocolate or vanilla?”
“How is that relevant to anything?”
Unlucky in Love Page 13
