She glanced at him. Was he seriously joking right now? He’d always been a jokester, often to the point of annoying her, but it seemed like his current motive was nerves. Good. Let him be nervous. He deserved it.
She let him follow her into the building and to the second floor because she couldn’t think of another option. She figured it might be easier to get rid of him after she’d changed clothes and could look him in the eye without worrying about him seeing every outline of her bra.
And why on earth did it matter if he saw her bra or not? He’d seen every bra she owned ten years ago, most often on the floor of her childhood bedroom. He’d seen her naked more times than she could count.
But that was then. This was now. She wasn’t interested in sharing an inch of her skin with Cole Landry today.
When they reached her door, she pulled out her key and opened it with shaking hands, the jacket parting so she could do so. Once again, she tried to blow him off, and once again, he ignored her, pushing her door open and guiding her inside.
He seemed bossier than he had been ten years ago. A man who got what he wanted, and apparently he wanted to enter her apartment.
“Go change,” he insisted. “I’ll wait here, and then I’ll take you to lunch.”
She flinched as she looked at him again. “That’s not necessary.”
“I know it’s not, but it’s the least I can do after ruining your coffee.”
“Cole, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine. You drove me home. I don’t need lunch.” She had no interest in sitting across from him at a restaurant making small talk today or any other day. In fact, she cringed inwardly at the memory of the last time she’d seen him, the time he’d told her he would pick her up at seven to take her to dinner. He hadn’t shown up that night, and she’d never forgiven him.
He closed his eyes for a moment as if he needed to rein in his frustration. Good. She didn’t care if she totally pissed him off. “Go change, April.”
She humphed as she spun around and headed for her bedroom. As soon as she closed the door, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths. What a disaster. On top of the fact that she now had to entertain her ex-boyfriend on this shitty April Fool’s Day, she still needed to grab some clean clothes and walk back into the hallway to get to the bathroom. She would need to wash the sticky latte off her skin before she put on clean clothes.
Her apartment only had one bath and one bedroom. It was small, but it was hers. She’d been scraping by month by month for a while now, but she’d done it somehow.
Shoving off the door, she headed for the closet, grabbed a pair of jeans and a pink tank top, and then spun around to snag a clean bra from her drawers. Tucking all of this under her arm while still wrangling the jacket, she emerged from the bedroom and aimed straight for the bathroom without glancing toward the living room.
Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, door locked, she finally let out a breath and hooked the jacket on the back of the door. Her fingers were shaking as she removed her blouse and skirt, kicking off her heels at the same time. The bra was last, leaving her in white lace panties.
A glance in the mirror made her wince. Her skin was pink from the hot liquid. Luckily, it could have been worse, but it felt good when she wet a washcloth with cold water and soothed her skin.
Something about being nearly naked within a few yards of Cole made her pick up the pace. It was unnerving to think he was on the other side of this door. Her nipples were stiff peaks from the cold cloth; at least that’s what she told herself.
Why did the man have to be even better-looking than he had been when they were eighteen?
She finished dressing, grabbed his jacket, and exited the bathroom with the intent of looking him in the eye and getting rid of him as fast as possible. Her steps faltered as she entered the living room slash kitchen.
Cole was across the room, standing at the counter, stirring a steaming cup of coffee. She could smell it immediately. He turned around when she approached, lifting the mug toward her, a half-grin on his face. “It’s not The Bean Stop, but I figured you needed caffeine since your last cup never made it to your lips.”
She took the mug from him, careful to avoid touching his fingers. “Thank you,” she muttered. It was hard to be angry with a man who made her coffee.
He lifted the French vanilla creamer and put it back in the fridge. “I figured you liked a vanilla latte when I found this creamer and spotted your Keurig on the counter.”
She took another fortifying sip, wishing it would cool off faster so she could gulp it down. “Observant,” she whispered.
He wandered to her couch and dropped onto it with a sigh even though she wished he wouldn’t make himself comfortable. Clearly, he wasn’t leaving.
She shuffled toward her armchair and lowered onto the edge of it, back straight, coffee carefully between her palms. “What are you doing here, Cole?” Her voice sounded bitchy. Maybe that wasn’t necessary. After all, he’d done her a solid this morning. Two, if she counted making her coffee. She took another drink, grateful for the caffeine finally flowing through her veins.
He smirked. “Trying to apologize for spilling coffee on you.”
She shook her head, frustration growing. “Not here in my apartment. What are you doing here in town?”
“My dad died. I’m here to settle his affairs.” He said this so matter-of-factly that April’s eyes were huge saucers of shock.
She swallowed, lowering her half-empty coffee mug to her lap, glad that she hadn’t dropped it and dumped yet another coffee on herself. “Oh my God, Cole. I’m so sorry.” She felt like a world-class bitch.
He shrugged. Shrugged? “It is what it is.”
She licked her dry lips. “When is the funeral?”
“Tomorrow.”
Now she cleared her throat. “Is your stepmom okay? Your brother?”
He shrugged again and blew out a breath. “Honestly, April, I don’t give a fuck if they’re okay or not. I wouldn’t have even come at all if I hadn’t needed to deal with the shop.”
Landry’s. The mechanic shop his dad owned.
“Oh.” She couldn’t think of what else to say. He was so stoic and nonchalant about the death of his father. “Did, uh, did something happen between you and your family to create a riff?”
He stared at her a moment and then half-chuckled, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’d rather not discuss my family if you don’t mind. Tell me about you. What are you doing these days?” He leaned back and made himself comfortable, crossing one leg over the other.
She was shocked by his intent to change the conversation abruptly from the fact that his dad died to her stupid boring life.
“I assume you were on your way to work when I ran into you?” he prodded.
She shook her head. “I’m a realtor. My client for the day canceled on me after the first showing.”
“So, you’re free? We could do lunch?”
She frowned. “Why, Cole? Why would you want to have lunch with me?”
He chuckled. “You’re cute and seem like a fun girl. I could try one of my one-liners on you. How about, hey babe, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
She did not laugh. She just stared at him. Was he seriously trying to make jokes right now? Again?
“I’m kidding, April.”
“Does that still work for you? Do you still make jokes out of everything? Your dad died, and you’re here for a funeral, and all you can think to do is joke around?”
He held her gaze, sighing. “It’s what I do, April. It’s how I cope. How I avoid reality sometimes.” He hesitated and then continued. “Go to lunch with me because we were once close. Because I don’t know anyone in town anymore. Because I don’t have anything to do until after the funeral when I meet with the lawyer.”
April took another slow drink of coffee. Ten years ago, this man had broken her heart into ten million pieces and he thought he could just waltz into town, take h
er to lunch, and catch up like old times?
Part of her wanted to shout all of this at him, demand that he explain why he’d ghosted her and left town without a word. She wanted answers to all the questions that had plagued her for ten years. But something about him was off. His dad had just died. Even though he acted like he didn’t give a fuck, even that was strange. Now wasn’t a good time to pick a fight with him. It would be insensitive.
“Do your parents still live in the same house?” he asked, making small talk like there weren’t two giant elephants in the room.
She hesitated and then responded. “Yeah. They haven’t even changed my bedroom. When I sleep over, I still crawl into that same twin bed with the same comforter covered in those gaudy red cherries.”
He chuckled. “Those were gaudy, but you loved red. I remember when you got that bedding for your birthday. And that bed…” He sucked in a breath and glanced down.
She pulled in a breath at the same time. Yeah, that bed. The place where we had sex for the first time on a Friday night when my parents were out of town. The place where we often had sex any time my parents were both at work or on a date. That bed.
Cole must have been having similar thoughts because he didn’t say anything or look up again for a while. “Why didn’t your parents ever turn your old room into a guest room or something?”
She shrugged. “They seem to feel nostalgic about it. Plus, my mom thinks it’s the perfect room for a grandchild. She hints at that often.”
He laughed. “I can see your mom doing that.” There were tiny wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there ten years ago. They were only twenty-eight, but she knew he’d been through a lot in the last ten years. The man wasn’t just in the Navy. He was a SEAL. She knew this because her mother sometimes mentioned it.
“What do you say, April? Lunch?”
Prologue
“Honestly Amanda, he wasn’t good enough for you,” Samantha said as she tossed back a shot of cinnamon whiskey.
“You never complained about him before.”
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I think your boyfriend is a douche’? Yeah, right.” Sam snorted. “That would have gone over well.”
Another shot.
“That’s exactly what you should have said,” Amanda huffed, but she knew Sam was right. Dammit. “Are you here for moral support or to get drunk?”
“The two have to be mutually exclusive?”
Amanda snickered at her best friend.
“I’m the one who got cheated on, and you’re the one getting drunk. How does that work again?”
“Wasn’t planning on doing it alone.” Sam winked as she sailed a tiny tumbler across the table to her.
Amanda poured the fiery liquid into the glass and took her shot. She shuddered, embracing the warmth that infused her body and mind, and she relaxed for the first time in days.
“So”—Sam waved a finger at her—“do the three horsemen of the apocalypse know about it yet?”
Her brothers. Sweet Jesus, when they found out it was going to get ugly. And potentially bloody. Those boys did love a good fight. She almost felt sorry for Scott. Almost.
“God, no. I have enough to deal with without adding those three to the mix. They seem to think their sole purpose in life is to defend my honor.” She rolled her eyes. “What they end up doing is just irritating the crap out of me with their Neanderthal bullshit. I don’t need to be bailing their asses out of jail, again I might add, because they’ve got testosterone poisoning.”
Amanda considered her friend. “You know they hate it when you call them that.”
“All the more reason, my friend. All the more reason.” The gleam in Sam’s eye was sinfully wicked as she raised her shot in silent toast.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” Amanda blurted, hating the pitiful twang of her voice. “I’m getting a serious complex here. I mean, what am I supposed to do now?”
She stared into her empty shot glass like she’d find the answer magically spelled out at the bottom.
“Call the horsemen. Set up the ass kicking. Sell tickets.” Sam giggled like a five-year-old.
Amanda narrowed her eyes, letting a sound of pure frustration pass her lips.
“Fine.” Sam slammed her empty glass on the table so hard it shook. “Want to know what I think? I think you need to get laid.”
Amanda’s head fell back on the edge of her chair. “That’s your answer for everything.”
“Maybe not the answer to everything, but it sure would help you get your mojo back.” Sam’s tone became serious. “Listen, Amanda, you need to get away. Take a vacation. Find a gorgeous stranger and have wild monkey sex with him. Be spontaneous.” Sam smiled at her as she refilled their glasses.
Amanda tossed back her shot. “I fail to see how that’s going to help me.”
Sam gave her a droll stare. “Of course you fail to see how it will help. That’s precisely why you need to do it.”
1
Amanda Martin pulled her car into the parking lot. She stared at the small building that served as the local watering hole before she turned off the ignition and slumped back in her seat.
Cheated on again. This must be some kind of record.
So far, the only two serious relationships she’d had were colossal failures. It took her first ex all of six months to jump into another bed. Well, that she knew of anyway. Chances were he’d cheated long before coming clean, telling her he just couldn’t see himself with her forever. As if she were deficient or something.
She’d convinced herself that Scott, her most recent of disasters, was different. He was charismatic and sweet. Okay, so the sex wasn’t mind-blowing, but they’d had it on a regular basis. So what the hell happened?
She’d caught the bastard in bed with another woman.
His secretary. Jesus.
She snorted in disgust. She didn’t know if she was madder that he’d cheated on her or that he’d turned her into a cliché. She figured she should be way more pissed off about the cheating. The fact that she wasn’t meant she’d wasted the last year of her life on average sex with a guy she didn’t really care about. Wouldn’t that make her family proud?
And now here she sat in all her pathetic-ness, feeling sorry for herself.
In the parking lot of a bar in Nowhere, Texas.
What the hell am I doing?
Amanda liked the stability of a steady relationship. The idea of bouncing from man to man just didn’t appeal to her. But maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was time for her to change her ways. Shake things up. Maybe a one-night stand was just what she needed. After all, she was young and relatively attractive.
She could do this, couldn’t she?
Right. Time to buck up or shut up.
The gravel crunched under her boots as she made her way across the parking lot. Two cars flanked the front door and she breathed a sigh of relief that the place wouldn’t be overly crowded. She tried to act casual, stopping just inside the door to let her eyes adjust to the light—or lack thereof.
The smell of stale beer and peanuts hung heavy in the darkened interior. Tables were spread around the perimeter of a small, open area she assumed was used for dancing. The jukebox belted out an old Hank Williams tune while its neon glow permeated the light haze of cigarette smoke. The other side sported a shuffleboard table and a pool table, along with several stray chairs turned this way and that. The bar ran the length of the back, with doors on each end, one marked Private and the other indicating restrooms beyond. She sauntered toward the bar, the butterflies in her stomach the only betrayal of her nervousness.
Two men played pool, swaying and obviously drunk, and eyed her curiously as she slid onto a barstool. They both wore jeans that had seen better days, worn through the knees and streaked with dirt. Their grease-stained T-shirts and ball caps made her wonder if they’d rolled out from underneath a truck before walking in here.
The taller of the two offered her a calculating smile, show
ing off the yellow stain of his teeth.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“What’ll ya have, miss?” The bartender asked, keeping a purposeful eye on the two playing pool.
“Whiskey. Straight up.” She’d gone for confident, but ended up just sounding cheesy. All she needed was to fist bump the bar and she’d be in an old Western.
“Whiskey. Right,” the bartender said with humor in his voice. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
“No, I’m just here for the week. I’ve got a place not far from here.”
“I see,” he said, raising his brows in surprise. “So, what brings you to our fine establishment?”
He slid a drink to her.
“Fine, huh?” Amanda looked around. “Guess I was lucky to find a seat,” she joked.
He flashed her a gorgeous smile. Stretching his arms out, he indicated to the rest of the room. “You just missed the rush. Ten minutes ago we were packed to the gills.”
The mischievous gleam in his eye told her he was lying. He was working for what would probably be the only tip he saw all night. Amanda laughed, swirling the amber liquid around in her glass before taking a sip.
“Name’s Jacob, but most folks just call me Jake.”
“Nice to meet you, Jake.”
He considered her a moment. “You got a name?”
She laughed again, blushing. She really needed to work on her flirting skills. “Amanda. My name is Amanda.”
“Nice to meet you, Amanda.” His gaze darted to the two men slowly approaching the bar.
“Yeah, Amanda,” the taller of the two said, “it’s very nice to meet ya.” He took the bar stool to her left while his buddy chuckled and stumbled to the seat on her right. They stunk of alcohol and cigarettes, the combination making her eyes water.
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