Chapter 2
While Henry and Knox order drinks, Wren and I head to the bathroom.
I see multiple people I know and give them a polite nod.
A few of them are Colt’s friends and family, who were unavoidable after our divorce.
I couldn’t just crawl into a hole and wait for the dust to settle—small towns didn’t allow that courtesy.
Generations of Colt’s family had lived and died in the small town of Honey Grove. It was difficult to do something as simple as grocery shopping without running into a second cousin or family friend. When we were together it felt like I was on the arm of someone famous.
Once the bathroom door swings shut behind us, my past issues take a backseat, and I’m forced to focus on my current one.
Maybe I shouldn’t call Henry an issue, but I need to find a way to let him down easy.
I couldn’t start something up with my neighbor, let alone a stranger I barely knew.
The thought alone was reckless, and moms don’t do reckless.
Before I can speak, Wren spins around so fast it almost gives me whiplash. Her eyes shimmer with mischief, and I know she’s eager for me to go all in with Henry. I guess I’ll have to let her down easy too.
“Not interested, huh?”
I groan, stepping in front of the smudged mirror. I quickly run my hands through my pin-straight blonde hair, trying to avoid Wren’s line of fire for two more seconds. “I’m not. I was just being nice.”
A dramatic scoff sounds off behind me. “Right. Then why are you hardcore blushing right now?”
“I am not blushing,” I argue, trying to conceal the obvious lie. I look at my reflection, and sure enough, there is a tinge of pink painting the balls of my cheeks.
“Emma, it’s okay to admit you like him. I’m not saying you have to marry the guy.”
My eyes drop to the floor before popping back up to meet her face. I know what she means, but it still stings. “I do not like him, Wren. I accepted a drink. That’s not a binding contract.”
“I know and that’s exactly what I’m trying to say. You can flirt and talk to him without looking too much into it. And if there’s some kissing involved, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. And if he wants to—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say, holding my hands up and begging her to stop. “I will admit he is attractive, but I have zero plans to act on it. He’s my neighbor, Wren. And I’m a single mom. I don’t have time for awkward situations that will only end in disaster.”
I press my lips together, attempting to stand my ground. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my chest and I hate the panic rising in my throat. The truth is, I know she’s not wrong. I had felt something when Henry looked at me. He made my breathing erratic and uneven.
Wren studies me and then unexpectedly shrugs. “Okay.”
I narrow my eyes, not buying her act. “That’s it? No argument?”
“Nope. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, then I’ll support you,” she says. I look closer, and I swear I see her lip quiver. I knew she was bluffing. “But you did already promise him a drink, so we better get back out there.”
A smile rises to my lips, and I shake my head.
I should be annoyed because I know she’s not going to drop this, but it’s hard to be annoyed with someone who just wants to see you happy.
Part of me wants to grab her shoulders and tell her not everyone finds their soulmate in Honey Grove.
At one point, I thought I did, but now I know I was in a hurry to push two puzzle pieces together that didn’t fit.
But I don’t say anything because I feel lucky to have her in my life.
Wren has held my hand through the entire divorce.
When I needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to eat copious amounts of ice cream with at two a.m., she was there.
Maybe I don’t need a soul mate when I have already found my person.
“Thanks, Wren,” I answer with a smile. A jitteriness takes over my body as we exit the bathroom. “God, I’m so nervous. I don’t even know what to talk about. He probably already thinks I’m a jerk.”
“You’ll be fine. I’m going to go talk to Sheila for a few minutes but come grab me when you’re done. Be good,” Wren says before disappearing into the sea of people.
When I make my way to the back of the bar, Henry has his back to me. It gives me an opportunity to admire the dark curls perfectly tousled on top of his head. My fingers itch at my sides for the chance to mess up his flawless style.
“Hey,” I say, claiming my spot next to him.
“Hi,” he offers with a smile. “So, you never told me your name.”
“It’s Emma.”
“Emma,” he whispers to himself. “Nice to meet you, Emma. I’m Henry.”
Henry reaches out a hand and I stare at it for a second before reaching out my hand to touch his. When our skin connects, I memorize the texture of his skin. I’m met with a softness that most men in this town don’t have. His handshake is warm and inviting but still firm and confident.
I clear my throat and pull my hand back, wrapping it around the glass Henry set down in front of me. “Where’s Knox?”
“Apparently, he found something better to do tonight,” Henry says, gesturing over to his brother pressed against a tiny brunette in the middle of the dancefloor.
I shake my head and pick up my glass to take a drink. He ordered me a vodka and cranberry juice despite me telling him what I wanted. It was a safe choice, and I respected a man who was practical and observant.
“Thank you for the drink,” I say before setting my sights on his drink of choice. “I thought you were supposed to convince me you weren’t pretentious. I don’t think drinking a glass of merlot in a dive bar is a good start.”
Henry’s lips quirk at the corners, fighting a full-blown grin. Instead, he tilts the glass toward his mouth and takes a long sip before answering me. My eyes slip down his clean-shaven face to the well-defined slope of his throat, watching his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. I swallow hard.
“I almost ordered a beer, but I changed my mind at the last second.”
“Why’s that?” I ask.
“I wanted to see if you’d take the opportunity to judge me again, and I was right.”
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I have to take another swig of my drink to keep my emotions from running rampant this early in the evening.
“I wasn’t judging, I was making an informed observation,” I say, setting my drink down.
Generally, I wasn’t a judgmental person—he had just caught me at a bad time.
Part of me felt this burning need to change that narrative, but then again, what did I have to lose?
After tonight, I fully planned to put this man on ice.
Henry tilts his head, watching me. The attention makes my skin prickle, and my stomach dips with an emotion I haven’t experienced since high school.
“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, setting his drink down with a light clink. “And what else have you observed about me, Emma?”
The way he says my name makes my body stand at attention, ready for its next command. I press my teeth together, willing my mind to stay focused. “Your hands are soft, so you probably have a white-collar job.”
“That’s fair,” he answers with a nod. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing. It’s just another way I know you’re not from Honey Grove. Most of the men around here know how to work with their hands.”
Henry’s smile widens, and I notice the slightest dimple curving into both sides of his mouth. My fingers dance at my sides, wanting to reach out and trace them.
“Oh, trust me. I know how to work with my hands.” He smirks, taking another long sip of his wine. “But I get it. I’m different from the men you usually go for.”
My lips part, but the words don’t come out. My dating history consisted of one man, and yes, my ex-husband was very different from the man standing in front of me. Colt worked in construction, and every day, he came home from work covered in dirt and grime with callouses that could cut steel.
Henry patiently waits for a response, and when I come up with nothing, he leans back on his heels and flashes a lopsided grin. “Don’t worry. I like that you noticed.”
My grip tightens on my glass, and I’m tempted to take a step back.
This conversation is heading in a direction I’m not comfortable exploring.
Part of me wants to lean into my new neighbor and find some excuse to touch his forearm that is completely exposed.
But I can’t do that. I should find an excuse to leave.
That’s when the universe lets me know it has my back. Before I can respond, someone bumps into me from behind, jostling my arm. My grip slips from my drink, and time slows as the glass tips forward in slow motion, spilling straight onto Henry’s light khaki slacks.
My eyes widen in horror. Henry inhales sharply, reacting to the cold liquid seeping into his pants.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, jumping into action. “I am so sorry!”
Henry lets out a strangled laugh, looking down at himself. “Carajo. It was getting a little hot in here.”
I scramble for some napkins and press them into Henry’s hands. “Here, take these. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for a new pair of pants, or I can pay to have them dry cleaned. Or I—”
“Emma, breathe,” he says, reaching for my hands. I stare at our hands clasped together, and all the commotion fades away. His fingers linger just long enough for me to miss them when he pulls away. “It’s fine. I don’t think it’ll stain. I can—”
“Come back to my place,” I blurt out before thinking.
His brows lift slightly.
Warmth spreads across my face. “I mean—I have stain remover, and I can wash them for you. I’m sure you haven’t had time to get laundry detergent or anything, so it’s the least I can do.”
Henry looks at me while he contemplates my offer. Small wrinkles decorate the space between his eyebrows as his lips press into a thin line.
“Okay,” he replies.
“Really?” I ask but immediately bite my lip. “I mean, great! I need to let Wren know we’re leaving, but then we can head out.”