Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I laughed. “I work on server engineering and maintenance for a tech company,” I said. “But sure, sometimes I fix computers in my free time.”
“Bingo,” Sam said. “So the app is perfect for you. Even if you don’t want to date, you can still talk with other people going through what you are.”
“You can say the word. It’s not like Voldemort.”
“Divorce,” Sam whispered.
I shook my head. “Just because other people on there are single doesn’t mean they understand my divorce,” I said.
“True. Fair,” Sam said, sympathy in his eyes. “But you never know who you might find.”
I’d been hanging out in Red’s Tavern a lot more since I became single—first to visit my brother, but also because I liked everybody else that worked here. Even Sam, when he wasn’t hounding me about apps. Red owned the place, and he was a gay cowboy who always seemed to have everything figured out. The rest of the bartenders could make me laugh, even when I felt empty inside.
And being alone at home these days made me feel like I was going to pop.
I desperately needed somewhere to go when my kids were away at their mom’s new place. Cooper, Chloe, and Dayna had been a beautiful, constant whirlwind in my life for the last twelve years, and now suddenly, the house felt far too big and empty three or four days out of each week. I could hear each floorboard creak. The sound of the fridge as it whirred to life. The sound of a blender turning on, all the way from my neighbor’s open window, for God’s sake.
I was totally alone again for half of the week.
I’d forgotten that it was even possible.
As the kids were growing up, I’d always craved free time. Now that I had it, I was lost without a clue. When they were away I felt empty and useless, and I missed them more than I could ever have known.
So far, all I’d done with my newfound freedom was to take my puzzles into Red’s Tavern instead of doing them at home.
Someone walked in and sat down on the barstool right next to mine. I tapped my pen on the newspaper in front of me, wracking my brain for an answer.
“Evening,” the man next to me said to Sam. His voice was deep. I liked it. I was certain Sam would flirt with him.
I didn’t look up from my puzzle, though. I was close to getting an answer, and I could feel it. I just needed to focus.
“What can I get for ya, gorgeous?” Sam asked him, and I tried to hide my smile. The guy next to me could have looked like a potato and Sam still would have called him “gorgeous.” Sam knew how to make anybody feel like a star.
“Just a pint of the pilsner,” he said.
“Coming right up.”
A moment passed. I was focused like a laser on the crossword. How could a six-letter word for “bent over” have a G in the middle? It didn’t make sense. Nothing clicked. And I had been having way too many hang-ups like this recently.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
The man beside me chuckled.
I glanced up at him and instantly I was a little bit intimidated.
Oh yeah. No question. Sam was going to flirt with this one like hell.
The man had deep-set hazel eyes, a muted forest green mottled with gorgeous flecks of amber. He was lifting one eyebrow at me, the hint of an amused expression on his face. His skin was beautifully tanned, and combined with his dark brown hair and facial hair, he looked like some sort of Italian casanova ready to whisk somebody away. But he was dressed in plain clothes, a dark green flannel and beat-up jeans.
“Wait. Are you laughing at me?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“A little bit,” he said. He shifted in his seat, turning toward me. He must have spent a good bit of time outside, with the sun-kissed skin and thick muscles that looked like they didn’t just come from a gym.
“Doing a crossword puzzle in the middle of a gay bar, huh?”
“Well, I was trying to,” I said, cocking my head to one side. “But now somebody’s bugging me.”
The smile on his face only got wider, crinkling the skin around the sides of his eyes.
Fuck. He really did have deep eyes. Bedroom eyes, even. Sort of dark around the edges, and sleepy looking in a seductive kind of way.
And he looked… familiar.
Strangely familiar.
I would have been attracted to him if I was letting myself be attracted to anyone right now. It was against my rules, of course—I knew I needed time and space to recover from my divorce, and I was going to do this right.
I would admire him from afar, the same way I’d always admired men from afar throughout the entirety of my marriage.