13. Summer
Summer
When I step into the Blue Moon Saloon, the Coosawhatchie band is already on stage, playing something upbeat and twangy for line dancing.
The place smells like onion rings and barbecue sauce, and nearly everyone in town seems to be packed in here.
Of course, in Golden Springs, there’s nowhere else to be on a Saturday night.
Larissa waves from the bar, where she’s claimed two stools and is already nursing a drink. She looks over my soft blue maxi dress, then nods. “That dress. I’m glad you listened.”
“I’d never hear the end of it if I hadn’t.”
“You know me so well.” She grins over her glass. “So. Are you feeling feisty, or are we easing into this?”
“I’ll follow your lead,” I say with a hint of mystery.
“If you need to practice, there’s always Sawyer.” She nods toward the bartender.
As if on cue, Sawyer saunters over, filling up a water and sliding it in front of me. The man has been behind this bar long enough that he can strike up a conversation with anyone.
“You girls talking about me?” Sawyer gives us his trademark grin.
“Maybe,” Larissa says with a gleam in her eye. “You know how to make everyone feel welcome.”
“That’s the goal,” Sawyer replies, winking at Larissa. He’s not flirting; he just winks at everyone who comes in. And it shows in his tips at the end of the night.
Tonight, he’s going to make bank because the place is buzzing with familiar faces. My gaze circles the room.
“They’re not here,” Larissa says, reading my mind.
“I wasn’t looking.”
“I saw you look,” she says, stirring her drink.
“I was checking out the room. I think there’s some new decor on the back wall.”
“You mean the deer head that’s been there since 1980?” She lifts a brow.
“Sawyer.” I lean on the bar. “Tell her I wasn’t looking for anyone.”
Sawyer sets down his glass and holds up both hands. “I don’t get involved in disputes.”
“Wise man.” Larissa nods.
“What brings you two in tonight?” he asks. Sawyer has been tending this bar long enough to know when to change the subject.
“She talked me into it.” I nudge Larissa with my elbow.
“One of those weeks?” he asks.
“One of those months.”
He nods like that explains everything. “Well, it’s good to see you. Been a while.” He picks up a glass and a bar towel. “How long since you stopped in last—two years?”
I frown. “It hasn’t been two years.”
He tosses the towel over his shoulder. “You sure about that?”
“It’s been almost two years,” Larissa corrects.
I flash her a look. “It’s not my fault horses are time-consuming.”
Larissa points at the stage. “You haven’t even come to see me when I’ve played here.”
“Horses are very emotionally needy animals, Larissa!”
It’s an excuse, and we both know it. Colton would cover for me any night I asked.
“By the way,” Sawyer interjects, motioning toward the door. “Looks like your evening just got more fun.”
All four Chance brothers walk in, wearing Lucky Chance ball caps, like they’ve formed their own professional sports team.
Before they’ve even made it to a table, they’re surrounded by townsfolk.
Wyatt’s approached by two women who want a photo.
Rhett is already beelining toward someone he went to school with.
Grady is looking for the table closest to the exit so he can sneak out later, leaving Jaxon cornered by a woman who’s wearing a mini-skirt so short it should be outlawed.
He gives her that lazy smile that he probably used on half the women in South Carolina.
I can’t seem to stop myself from staring, because dang him, he looks so good in that hat.
Without warning, his gaze drifts over her shoulder and lands on me, and I make the tiny error of not looking away fast enough.
His grin falters for a second. Then he gives me a softer smile that’s slightly lopsided, with eyes crinkling at the corners. And I’m suddenly sixteen again.
I whirl around on my stool, but I can still feel him watching. Lightning slides down my spine.
Larissa leans toward me. “Still not looking?”
“It was accidental.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” she says. “Jaxon just ditched Little Miss Mini-Skirt. And he’s staring at you.”
I want to check that she’s right, but that will just give him the satisfaction of thinking I care that he’s here. I pick up my drink and ignore him. “He probably has opinions about who I talk to.”
Sawyer wipes down the bar. “It’s what I call the attention effect.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Once a man pays attention to a woman, every other man around suddenly wants to know what’s over there. I’ve watched it happen ten thousand times.”
“And you use this knowledge for good?”
“Mostly,” he says with a cheerful shrug.
I think about what happened at the farmers market when Blaine was at my booth. Maybe Sawyer is onto something.
“Works like a charm,” he promises with a wink.
Larissa stirs the ice in her cup. “Well, it’s not working for me.”
“Are you talking about Wyatt?” I ask. “Just go over and introduce yourself.”
“I can’t do that!” she whispers.
“Why not?”
“Because we only met once before, and he won’t remember it. Especially when he’s so famous and…” She gestures toward all six feet four inches of the football player standing across the room. “HUGE.”
Wyatt towers over everyone here, but he’s not intimidating when he smiles. That’s what makes him so endearing.
I set down my glass. “He’s just like everyone else. There’s nothing special about any of the brothers.”
“He’s not like everyone else, Summer. He’s been on ESPN.” She peeks over her shoulder again. “You know, Jaxon’s still looking over here.”
I keep my eyes forward. “He’s probably wondering why I’m here.”
“Well, so is the guy at the end of the bar.”
I scoot forward enough to look down the length of the bar. A bearded man I’ve never seen before is watching me. He tips his hat, and I snap back to my drink.
“Guess that attention-effect thing works,” I mutter to Sawyer. Or maybe I’ve just been out of the dating scene for so long, I’ve forgotten how to play.
“Told you!” He grins.
“Can I get a drink?” I ask. “Like a mocktail?”
Sawyer rests his hands on the bar. “You know this is Golden Springs, right? We don’t do mocktails. But I can make a ginger ale with cranberry juice.”
“That’ll work.” I can still feel Jaxon looking at me from across the room. He’s not even pretending not to.
The absolute nerve of him.
Larissa stands and smooths her blouse. “Okay, wish me luck. I’m going to join the line dancing and hope that I bump into Wyatt.”
“You’re leaving me?” I grab her arm and pull her back onto the stool. Sitting alone at the bar makes me want to walk straight out the door. Except I’d have to talk to Jaxon on the way out.
“I’ll only be gone for a few minutes.” She peels my fingers off her arm. “Use this chance to talk to someone else—like Jaxon, maybe, or the guy at the end of the bar…or both?” She waggles her eyebrows as she backs away.
Sawyer hands me my drink. The band starts up again, and that’s when Hank Branford enters the place.
After greeting half the room, Hank strides past the bar, then stops next to me.
“Summer Daniels, right? You work at Lucky Chance Ranch.” He holds out a hand like we’re old friends.
Which is weird because he’s never greeted me before.
“Heard you’ve been keeping their mare operation running at Lucky Chance. ”
“With help.” My gaze skates over to Jaxon, who seems even more interested now that I’m talking to Branford.
Hank leans an elbow on the bar, tucking his thumb in the pocket of his Wranglers. “That’s not a small thing, especially after everything the Chances have been through.” Sawyer passes him his usual drink. “I run Branford Farms. Ever heard of it?”
That’s like asking if I’ve heard of Kentucky Fried Chicken. “Who hasn’t? It’s one of the biggest horse operations around these parts.”
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “You know, I could use someone with your experience to help run our broodmare operation.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. “If you’d ever like to make a move…” He slides the business card across the bar.
The glossy Branford Farms logo catches the light. “Thanks, but I’m not looking right now.”
“No rush,” he comments smoothly. “Rumor has it Lucky Chance isn’t doing so well.” He points to the card. “Keep it. You never know when my phone number might come in handy.”
I don’t like this man, or his gaudy belt buckle and fancy hat. A deep voice near my shoulder startles me. “Hello, Hank.”
I turn and find Jaxon behind me, a cool expression on his face.
Hank looks him over. “Jaxon Chance. We meet again.”
“It’s my hometown. Where else would I be?” Jaxon answers.
Hank’s farm might be next to Lucky Chance, but his roots are in Lexington. He’s never been one of us even if he’s in town every week.
Jaxon’s brow lowers. “Hope you’re not trying to recruit my broodmare manager.”
Hank rubs his chin. “Nope, just letting her know the door’s open if she’s ever looking.” Hank glances back at me with a tight smile. “Good talking with you, Summer.”
He tips his hat at both of us and heads toward a back table.
I turn back to the bar. “For the record, I didn’t invite him over.”
“I figured.” Jaxon leans against the bar, looking in no hurry to leave now that Branford is gone. Sawyer hands him a drink.
I tip forward on my seat and see that the bearded man has disappeared too. “You believe me?” I meet Jaxon’s eyes.
“Why wouldn’t I? You could’ve moved to Branford Farms a long time ago if you’d wanted—but you didn’t.” He studies Hank across the room. “He’d love to poach you from us—hurt our farm and help his operation in one move.”
“Ah, I see.” I nod. “You don’t want to lose to Branford.”
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to lose you.”
Something warm settles under my rib cage. “What about Lucky Chance?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not selling to Hank Branford.” He swirls his drink. “And I don’t want you going to his farm either. I’m not sure we can keep the place running without you.”
I nearly spit out my drink. Jaxon is admitting he needs me?