Chapter 9 #2
“You order,” Poet said. “I’ll snag us a booth.”
Nodding, I turned toward the bar. I didn’t recognize the bartender, but I did know the cowboy sitting on a stool, nursing a pint of beer.
“Garrett Calhoun,” I stated with a wide smile.
He swiveled on his stool to look at me. His grin was infectious. “Wyn Larsen. I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”
He rose and quickly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me into the air. He twirled me about, causing a shriek of laughter to escape my mouth.
“Put me down, you heathen!”
He stopped spinning and gently lowered me to the ground and dropped his arms from around me. “What are you doing here?”
“Here, at this bar, or here in this town?”
“Both.”
“Poet and I are having dinner.” I flung my hand in the direction of my friend. “As for being in town, I kind of fell into a nanny gig for a while.”
“No kidding,” he said. “Last time I saw you, you swore you’d never leave the city.”
“Things change,” I said.
“Yeah, they do,” he agreed, his voice low.
“You drinking alone?”
“For the time being. Griffin is meeting me in a bit. I got started early.”
“There are only two reasons an attractive man drinks alone in a bar. One, he’s trying to find some tail. Two, he’s trying to drown his sorrows.”
“You think I’m attractive? Well, well, well . . .”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, Garrett.”
He smirked. “As for drinking alone in a bar, I won’t be alone if you sit with me.”
“Girls’ night. But if you need a friendly sympathetic ear, give me a call and we can grab coffee or something.”
The female bartender who’d been serving another customer came up to me and smiled. “What can I get you?”
I ordered the meat combo platter and two mocktails and then handed over my credit card to start a tab.
“Mocktails?” Garrett asked in shock. “Why the hell are you in a bar and not drinking?”
“I’m not drinking in solidarity with my pregnant friend,” I said.
“Ah, right,” he said with a head bob. “So, who’s the nanny gig for?”
“Archer Keel. He’s the farrier at Elk Ridge.”
“Yeah, I’ve met Archer,” he said. “But that doesn’t make any—”
“Archer has a kid?” the bartender asked in shock.
“You know Archer?” I asked her.
“Yeah.” A smirk appeared on her lips as she tossed long brown hair over her shoulder.
I did not like that smirk.
Not. At. All.
“I’ll put that order in for you. And then I’ll get to your mocktails.” She swept my card off the bar and headed for the computer.
Garrett peered at me. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”
“What?” I demanded.
His smile widened. “You looked ready to reach across the bar and smack that smile right off Shay’s pretty little face.”
“I refuse to dignify that with a response.” I snapped my spine straight.
He rubbed his chin, the sound of his thumb rasping against his five o’clock shadow. Normally, that sound would make me quiver. But Garrett did nothing for me.
I thought about Archer’s stubble.
And then my stomach flipped.
Son of a bitch.
“So, Archer has a kid?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah. An eleven-year-old girl named Lenni,” I said. “She’s cool. Cooler than I am, actually.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re pretty cool.”
“Glad you think so,” I remarked. “So yeah, I’m hanging around for the time being and helping out. She was—ah—kind of a surprise.”
He frowned. “Surprise? What do you mean?”
I looked at Shay; her head was turned ever so slightly, and I swore I saw her ears twitch with the desire to know the gossip.
“He didn’t know about her,” I said, pitching my voice soft so only Garrett could hear. “Keep that between us, yeah? I don’t want his business shared all over town.”
He nodded, a pensive frown marring his face.
“How’s the family,” I asked, changing the subject.
“Good,” he said. “My sister’s coming home for Thanksgiving. Mom is over the moon about it. I think Greer is her favorite.”
Shay returned to the bar and began to make the mocktails in front of us. I couldn’t help but notice her colorful sleeve of ink or the dainty diamond stud in her nose.
“Wyn?” Garrett asked.
“Huh?” I reluctantly pulled my attention away from the gorgeous bartender and looked at Garrett. “What did you say?”
“I asked what you’re doing for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh. I don’t know, actually.”
“You’re not going back to New York and spending it with your parents?”
I shook my head. “I’ll be here.”
“Muddy will make a feast,” he predicted. “You guys kind of have a full house this year, huh?”
“Full house.” I nodded. “Good way to put it.”
I thought about Thanksgiving back when all four of us lived in the city. Hadley always made the turkey because the rest of us didn’t know how. Poet handled the pies while Salem and I tackled sides. And we all drank too much Prosecco.
It would be different now. It would have to be.
Shay finished making the drinks.
“Say goodbye before you leave,” I said to him.
“Will do,” he said. “See ya around, Wyn.”
I grabbed the drinks and headed to the table.
Poet looked at me with her brows raised. “I didn’t know you had a thing for Garrett.”
“I don’t have a thing for Garrett.”
“No?” She smiled. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”
I pushed her mocktail closer to her. “You’re imagining things.”
“That’s what it looked like to Brooks, too.”
I frowned. “Brooks? Brooks was here?”
“I forgot my fingerless gloves,” she said, lifting her hands to show off the yellow crocheted gloves. “He was worried I’d be cold without them. So he dropped them off—and now he’s heading to Archer’s to hang out with his brother and Lenni.”
“Those gloves are cute. Did Muddy make them for you?”
“Yes, but don’t change the subject.”
I sighed. “What subject is that?”
“I bet you a million dollars that Archer’s going to ask you about Garrett when you get home.”
“Why would I take that bet?” I demanded.
“Because he’ll be jealous. Obviously.”
“It’s not obvious.”
“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you don’t see how Archer looks at you?”
“No. How does he look at me?”
“Like you’re a ten-ounce filet mignon. Juicy, tender and delicious.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like you’re having a pregnancy craving.”
“You really haven’t noticed Archer watching you?”
“No,” I lied. “I haven’t. And if Brooks tells Archer about Garrett, I don’t think he’d care.”
Poet leaned forward and held out her hand. “Wanna bet?”