At the front doors, I pause, take a deep breath, straighten my spine, and remind myself why I’m here. I’m thirty now, and all I’ve ever really wanted out of life is a family. Some people consider that a cop-out, a lazy woman’s goal, but I know, when all the material and superficial elements of life are stripped away, the only thing that really matters in the end is the people you love and the people who love you.
This is the first step back on the path toward happiness, no matter how wrong it feels.
I push inside, and my gaze immediately cuts to the bar. My fear is realized: Cole stands there, talking to Tucker and Logan. It’s busy enough for them not to notice me, but not busy enough to keep them occupied behind the bar.
Just do it.
After another deep breath, I start that direction. On the way, I see at least a dozen people I know. I pause to say hello and check in with quasi friends, people who have drifted away since Evan’s death but who would be rude to ignore.
Stacy and Kyle Johnson are having dinner with their three young sons. Roland and Elizabeth Gleason are celebrating their fortieth anniversary. I see half a dozen women I used to consider friends, but who faded into the background after Evan died, all of whom pretend not to see me now.
Seems a firefighter’s widow makes others feel uncomfortable. My bad.
I say hello to the Delmontes. Sam is trying to entertain his four-year-old daughter, Penelope, and his wife, Beth, is cradling their new baby.
“Natalie,” Beth says as I pass.
I turn with a polite smile. Beth stands, faces away from her table, and glances back to make sure her daughter isn’t listening when she asks, “Can I order two dozen cupcakes? It’s Penelope’s fifth birthday. They’re for her kindergarten class.”
“Sure. What’s the theme this year?” I make cupcakes for Penelope’s birthday every year.
“Unicorns.” She grins and shrugs. “What else?”
Yes, unicorns are popular right now. “You bet. When do you need them?”
“Next Wednesday?”
“No problem.”
“Thank you.”
My gaze lowers to the sweet round face of her new son, maybe two months old now. She’s got him swaddled and sucking on a pacifier, and she sways side to side. “How’s this little one doing?”
She grins down at the boy with so much love and pride, it hurts my heart. “Good. He’s good.”
I nod. “I’ll give you a call next week.”
“Perfect, thank you.”
By the time I reach the bar, I’m more certain than ever that it’s time to move on. Time to go after what I’ve always wanted.
Caught up in their own conversation, the guys don’t notice me. I take the opportunity to melt into the background to catch the vibe. That way, I can duck out if it’s not the best time to ask for a favor. Or face Cole. Or officially start dating again.
All three of them are great-looking guys. Tucker is a massive six foot four with unruly surfer-boy sun-tinted hair and bright blue eyes. Logan is a solid, heavily muscled six foot tall with hair so black it sometimes takes on a blue tint and eyes so strikingly jade green I still believe he wears contacts—something he adamantly denies. And Cole, smack between brunette and ginger depending on whether he’s in the sun or not, six feet two inches, his build sleek and sexy. Outlander’s Jaime Fraser has nothing on Cole.
“I thought he had a job as a security guard at an office building downtown.” This comes from Logan, and I immediately know they’re talking about Cole’s father.
“That’s so last week.” Cole’s voice has a bitter bend to it. “I’ve learned not to expect much from him. Though I guess he’s still expecting a lot from me.”
“Are you going to give it to him?” Tucker asks. “That’s not exactly petty cash.”
Cole’s jaw jumps as he clenches his teeth, but his lazy stance hides frustration brewing beneath the surface. Outwardly, he looks completely chill, one hip leaning against the back counter, his hands lovingly polishing a glass that’s already glinting under the lights. His jeans hang low, his tee pulls across his muscular chest, and, yeah, my mouth waters.
It’s a Pavlovian thing based in science. Don’t judge.
The truth is, I love almost everything about Cole Jackson—other than his job. I’ve lost my father and my husband to fire. That’s two men too many.
“We’re going to have to revamp the HVAC in here soon,” Logan says. “Don’t put yourself in a bind just to save his ass again.”
Cole nods but doesn’t look up. His father has never amounted to much. After his mom died when he was just a kid, Cole spent the remainder of his twenty-eight years acting as the parent.
Parental problems are a hardship all three men share. It amazes me how well they turned out. Forged in fire, to be sure.
“Speaking of binds,” Tucker says, glancing at Logan. “What’s going on with Emily?”
“I’m gonna break it off,” Logan says. “She’s too intense, pushing me to put labels on everything. I’m over it.”
Time to dive in.
I shift, putting myself between two other people at the bar. “If all three of you are here, who’s watching the firehouse?”
All eyes turn on me. Tucker is the first to greet me by coming out from behind the bar and giving me a hug. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“Dude,” Logan says, taking the pies from my hands while I’m still hugging Tucker. “Don’t damage the merchandise.”
Tucker lets me go, and Logan slides in for his hug. “Hey, Nat.”
I’m not surprised when Cole remains behind the bar. You’d never know we’d once been the kind of friends who stayed up late into the night talking about everything under the sun, or that he’s been over at my house almost every week since Evan died to fix something or take care of the yard, no matter how many times I’ve told him I can handle things.
He lifts his chin toward me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How’s that pipe holding under the sink?”
God, I hate this. “Fine, good.”
“Did Carlo give you a deal on your brakes?”
I want to scream. I can’t do this anymore. It has to end. “He did, thanks. I didn’t know you’d be here, or I’d have brought you coconut cream.”
Tucker has already found his cheesecake and confiscated it, sliding it into a spot below the counter. “Either of you two touch it, you’d better sleep with one eye open.”
Logan opens the other box and finds his chocolate silk pie and smiles. “You just made my entire week, Nat.”
“Damn, you look fantastic, girl.” Tucker is an unapologetic flirt. He’s probably the most hard-core player I’ve ever met. His T-shirt reads The hotter you get, the faster we come, and is part of a long-standing and raunchy collection he treasures.
I don’t care why he’s complimenting me or whether or not he even means it, I’m still bolstered by his words. Venturing back into the dating scene is beyond unnerving.
“Thanks.” I glance toward the bar’s front door. “I’m meeting someone.”
“As in a date?” Logan asks.