After he’s gone, Lance looks at us. “Who’s that?”
I shrug. “How would I know?”
“Whoever he is, he’s huge. Not someone I’d wanna mess with.” Easton pushes his plate away and gulps down his water.
“Here you go.” Mindy puts a Caesar salad in front of me before walking away.
My cousins stare at me.
“This is my life.” I pick up my fork and stab at the lettuce because I don’t have time for them to prepare another one.
“See you two.” Lance waves and leaves, looking like the Wall Street guy he isn’t. But he doesn’t completely fit in in our small town either, because he spends so much time in New York. I have my suspicions as to why he doesn’t just move there, but I’ve never outright asked.
We say bye and I hip-check Easton, almost making him fall out of the booth. “What the—”
“Go to the other side now that Lance is gone.” I nod toward the empty side of the booth.
“Normal people just ask,” he says, sliding around to the other side.
I situate myself in the middle of the bench seat and start back in on my salad.
Meanwhile, the guy who almost ran into Lance comes out of the bathroom and sits at the table by the window. He plops down a duffel bag on the chair across from him and takes out the local paper.
“What are we looking at?” Easton whispers from across the table.
“Nothing.”
He glances over his shoulder, and I throw a crouton at him. “Don’t.”
He picks it up from his shirt and pops it into his mouth, chomping down dramatically and loudly. I narrow my eyes at him.
He shrugs after getting a good look at the guy. “I bet he’s here for your dad. Look at his tats.”
I saw his tattoos and how they go all the way up his arms. I also notice the bulging biceps, the dark hair styled short, the vibrant blue eyes. He’s definitely attractive. You’d have to be blind not to notice.
“You like him,” Easton says.
“Um. I don’t know him. How could I like him?” I fork my salad, keeping my eyes down.
“Look at your cheeks. You’re blushing.”
I glance up at Easton through my eyelashes. “Stop it.”
“It’d be good for you. I know you think I’m some manwhore, but come on, Brin, it’s been years since Sawyer died and I know you haven’t gotten any. Maybe sex would make that dark cloud over your head disappear.”
Hearing Sawyer’s name feels like a blow to the chest. It’s been three and a half years, so it doesn’t happen a lot anymore, but it still catches me off guard.
“Having sex is not going to make the cloud disappear.” I shake my head.
“Judge all you want, but I live a happy life.” He shrugs.
“I don’t remember it being under my control that I became a widow as a newlywed.”
Sawyer’s death set off a chain of events that led me to where I am today. After he died, I had to sell the house we’d paid too much for, so I ended up in the hole. Once I made good on that, I didn’t have any money left and had to move in with Calista, who’s now married and left me to cover the rent myself. Needless to say, this is not where I expected to end up after I said “I do” at twenty years old.
Easton leans back in the booth, one arm stretched out, the other on the table and fiddling with his water, his gaze on me. “Eventually you need to pick yourself up out of this funk. We’ve all tried to help, and we’ve all failed. I know it sucks having your husband die shortly after you got married. You think because I don’t want a commitment in my life right now that I don’t understand how awful it is?”
I drop my fork in my salad and it’s so loud that I swear the entire restaurant stares at me, including that guy by the window. Our eyes briefly connect, and he lifts his lips in a welcoming smile, but I turn away before it can affect me.
“It’s my life. You can imagine, but you don’t live it. And I’m not going to sleep my way through our small town with the hopes that one day Sawyer will be erased from my memory.”
How did our conversation turn to Sawyer once again? We’re supposed to be talking about the roommate ad and how I’ve had no responses.
He holds up his hands. “Truce, okay?”
I nod, exasperated. “Okay.”
He pulls out his wallet, so I guess he’s about to leave too. “I just miss you. I miss the old Brinley who enjoyed life. I feel like, after the accident, you just stopped living.” He slides out of the booth and drops some bills on the table. “I have to go. My dad wants me to talk to a few of his players. I’ll call you later.”
My uncle Austin is the high school baseball coach, and since Easton is a professional baseball player, he’ll often chat with the team during his off-season.
“Okay.”
He kisses my forehead. “Sorry,” he says because he never wants to leave anything unfinished.
I shake my head. “It’s okay. I know I have to move on.”
And that’s the truth. I do know I can’t mourn Sawyer forever, and I need to move on with my life, but that’s a scary prospect to think of, let alone actually do it.
“Maybe you need more time.” I shake my head and he chuckles.
“Now you want to say the right thing.”
“I’m an asshole. What can I say? I’m not good at sugarcoating.”
“Bye, Easton,” I say and push him away.
“Love you!” he screams as he leaves the restaurant.
The sound makes tat boy glance up from the paper he’s reading. When he sees Easton, he buries his head in the paper again.
I finish my salad and I’m about to pull out my money when I see Easton left enough for the entire bill.
“Excuse me?”
I peer up toward the deep voice at the end of the table. The deep voice is attached to the tatted-up guy, and I realize that the distance did not do him justice. My heart beats and my stomach somersaults. Holy shit, he’s so good-looking, he has to be a model.
“Hi?” I say way too mouselike. My mom would lecture me about it if she heard it.
“Could you point me in the direction of Lucky’s? I have to see a guy about a job.” He smiles, and it kind of feels like being in a tractor beam—I can’t look away.
“Um…”
Easton’s words ring in my head. Maybe I need to jump back into something. This guy is definitely not someone I’d ever fall for—he’s a stranger in town. Who knows how long he’ll stick around.
“How about I show you?”
Two
Van
The blonde slides out of the booth and stands to her full height, which only comes up to my chin, but I like that. She meticulously puts on her coat, buttoning it, then positioning her computer bag on her shoulder to lie crosswise over her chest. If not for the jacket, the strap would’ve slid between her tits, and I’d be a liar if I said I wouldn’t have liked that view.
“All done?” Mindy comes over and picks up the money her boyfriend must’ve tossed on the table.
“Yes, thank you.” She smiles at the girl, but the waitress’s eyes are on me as if I’m an all-you-can-eat sundae bar.