Already At Risk (Wildflower #4)

Six Months Ago

NATALIE

I was always envious—and happy for—women who emerged from a divorce and had that group of friends who took them out to celebrate, forced them to get back out there, made them a cake that said he wasn’t good in bed anyway or something.

At this moment, in particular, I was wishing I had a larger social circle than my best friend who lived across the country, my nine-year-old daughter, my coworkers who saw my face enough when we were clocked in at the hospital, and, of course, my brothers.

In other words, I wished I had any kind of social circle.

Instead, it was just me and a little black dress against the world tonight. I’d almost talked myself out of this ten times, but it had been one year to the date since I’d filed for divorce, and that deserved commemoration, right?

I strode into the divey Irish pub, sliding onto a barstool with more confidence than I felt.

One drink—I’d just have one drink to honor the occasion, and then I’d head home.

“What can I get you?”

The bartender threw a coaster down in front of me, ready to place something on it.

“Whatever it is she wants, I’m paying for it,” a deep voice cut in.

“Oh, that’s—”

I turned to my right, where a man had suddenly appeared.

A handsome man, who grinned at me, his expression both soft and teasing. There was something about the combination of dimples and a jawline that could cut through the hardest exteriors.

My exterior.

“Okay,” I finished.

“Yeah?” he prompted, like he knew exactly what had just happened. “It’s okay?”

I sucked in a breath and shook my head. “I don’t need you to buy me a drink. You’re welcome to sit there, though.”

He chuckled. “Thank you for the permission. I’m Cam.”