Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“Jolie, you need to quit for a bit, we have real live customers to serve,” Clay informed the dancing girl, sounding apologetic.
Jolie, the woman I knew by name now, stamped her foot, punched her fists to her hips, stomped over and grabbed her phone. I guessed she’d stopped recording when she placed it back on the tripod stand and spun around to challenge him.
“Clay! I was recording that,” she hissed, sounding aggravated. “What did I tell you about interrupting me when I’m performing?”
When I narrowed my eyes for a better view a bolt of electricity shot through my body.
The woman wasn’t any woman called Jolie.
This Jolie was my Jolie—the grown-up version of my one-time childhood sweetheart who’d moved states as a teen with her parents.
Her leaving had been devastating, and after she’d left, I’d felt both heartbroken and abandoned.
I would have sounded dramatic had I said those words aloud. But it had been the first and only time to date that I’d caught real feelings for a girl, and my love story with her hadn’t gotten to play out.
My heart stopped for a beat, maybe two, as I took in the gorgeous face of the beautiful girl that I’d never forgotten.
“Jolie fucking Patterson,” I mumbled in disbelief, then I rose slowly to my feet as if being drawn magnetically toward her.
At least I thought I’d mumbled but my words must have been louder than I’d thought, because she’d heard me.
Jolie’s baby-blue eyes met mine and her chest heaved, like she’d taken a breath but held it for a few beats before she breathed out.
“Louis Moonan, is that you?” She asked, staring wide-eyed, clutching her chest and remaining rooted to the stop. The disbelief in her tone told me she was as stunning by our happenstance as I was.
“One and the same,” I said, sounding quiet and serious, my tone flatter than before. My instincts were to touch her, but I couldn’t just do that … not after all this time. She was mine back then, but we were kids at the time.
Remembering Ches was with me, I stepped away from the booth and began to walk toward her. Jolie looked as stunned as I was and appeared frozen to the spot.
“Small world,” I muttered, holding my arms out to the sides of me whilst I struggled for something to say. Then it came to me. “Sixteen years … it’s been sixteen years since we last saw each other.”
“I-I never thought I’d ever see you again,” she mumbled shyly.
“You knew where I lived,” I said, reminding her that she had been the one who’d moved away.
“Still? You still live in Ormond?”
“Yeah, still in sunny Florida, when we’re not touring. I live in one of Korry’s places with Zena … you remember my baby sister?” I asked.
“Yeah, she’s pretty unforgettable, your sister. Older than her years, opinionated … and the lead singer in your band now, right?” I nodded with a wry smile. “Who knew growing up that I’d be friends with famous musicians.”
“Ah, so you’ve even followed us. It was my musical talent that secured my first date with you, remember?” I asked as I took in her long shiny hair again and remembered how silky it had felt when I’d sifted it through my fingers. “How come you never reached out and gotten reacquainted?”
She scoffed. “Jesus, you’ve got women chasing you from the world over now, why would you be interested in a woman you knew as a sixteen-year-old kid?”
“You underestimate your place in my heart, baby girl,” I said, sounding serious.
“Yeah, but that was before you had that sexy, bad boy vibe going on. What would a bad boy musician want with a hick town girl from Montana.”
“Bad boy, huh?” I queried, nodding slowly like I was considering her judgment of my character. “And the answer to your question is plenty,” I replied, flirting.
When she tried to bite back a smile, she failed miserably and gave me a goofy grin, and I swear it looked bright enough to melt the snow outside.
“God, you’re prettier than I remember,” I gushed, unable to hold my thought back. “Maturity suits you, Jolie. Now for the important questions. Are you married? Engaged? Steady Boyfriend?” I babbled because I needed to know.
She scoffed. “Are you sizing up your chances with me?” she asked, flirting with me.
“Maybe … should I?” I probed, staring intently into her eyes.
Turning a delicious shade of pink, she nodded which took me completely by surprise.
“To answer your question, no husband, fiancé or boyfriend right now. You clearly don’t know much about the natives of our tiny town.
” Her bold response was countered by the desire in her eyes when they darted to my lip, then back to my gaze, chuckling.
I only realized how tight my chest had grown with how much my question had mattered, when I felt it go slack after I’d heard her reply. “What? There’s no motorcycle clubhouse nearby, or randy cowboys moseying into town for a weekend of fun?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “OMG, no dirty, hot bikers on the horizon, but there are more than a few gnarly old cowboys … who could be described like the book boyfriend ones on my eReader at home.”
My heart leapt the moment she confirmed her single status. And right then, I felt excited that we had been stranded in town for the night.