“Of course you want those things,” she says, nodding like crazy. “You should want those things. But the fun part of life is that you don’t know where you’re going to find that fulfillment.”
“I don’t think it’s from your boy Penn.”
Harper cocks her head to the side. “It might be. Who knows? I know he comes across as a playboy, and he has been one—don’t get me wrong. But there’s more to him than meets the eye. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I say, shaking a finger her way this time. “But I’m not wading through the one-liners and innuendos until he realizes that.”
“Fair enough.”
She heads into the kitchen, and I follow her. The remnants of a chocolate cupcake sit on the counter next to an empty glass of milk. Harper cleans it up as I pull out a chair at the table.
“I’m going out tonight with a couple of my friends to Mucker’s,” she says. “Do you want to come?”
I consider it. It would probably be fun, and I do need to meet people. But the adrenaline that got me through my first workday has evaporated, and my bones feel tired. The more I think about getting dressed again, the more I don’t want to put on a bra.
“Nah,” I say. “I think I’ll stick around here. If I change my mind, I’ll come later.”
“Suit yourself.” She tosses a sponge into the sink. “We always sit on the patio if you come. The dining room will be packed, so just try to slip outside.”
“Will do.”
She pats me on the shoulder as she walks toward her bedroom.
I pick up a saltshaker and spin it between my hands. The silence sinks around me. My phone is quiet in the other room. There’s not a single text or phone call from any of my so-called friends from California, and while I didn’t expect them to really care, I can’t help but be a smidgen disappointed that not one of them does.
“It’s for the best,” I say out loud. “It’ll make this transition even easier.”
I start to get up, but a blue label from a jar on the counter catches my attention. The blue is bright, and the way it touches the dark syrup makes me think of blue eyes and dark hair.
I sink back in the chair and recall the way my body buzzed when it was near Penn’s. How he leaned into my hands and looked at me with a warmth that was hard to ignore. That’s hard to forget.
It’s unfortunate that I’ve experienced enough hedonism in my life before now. It’s unlucky for me that I know what it’s like to cave to a cad with boatloads of charm. If I didn’t know those things, I could’ve explored what Penn has to offer.
It’s just too bad I learned my lesson before I saw him again.
He might’ve been the best bout of trouble I ever got myself into.
I get up from the table and head to the bathroom. There are few things a hot bath won’t fix. Hopefully, being unable to wipe Penn Etling from my mind is one of them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AVERY
I pull my car into an empty spot next to the door. A sign reading MUCKER’S hangs next to a basket of flowers. Harper’s car is parked on the other end of the lot, which is lit up by the dining room lights streaming from the windows.
“This place looks cute,” I say as I shut off the engine.
I’ve driven by Mucker’s every evening that I’ve been in town. The parking lot is always full. As I kept going down the road, because I wasn’t about to walk into a place that was already bursting at the seams alone, I wondered if the food was good or if it’s packed because it’s the only place to go.
Tonight, I’m going to find out because my bath earlier this evening failed me.
I expected my best bubble bath and thriller novel would help redirect my thoughts away from Penn. But when I got out and dried off and realized I hadn’t read a word and was still thinking about his stupid smile, I decided I needed another tactic. One with people, food, and a new energy.
Bolstered by the kindness shown to me at the salon this week, and the loneliness at Harper’s with her gone, I grab my purse. Once my feet are on the pavement, a sweet nighttime air greets me. It’s filled with laughter and the twinkle of lights from a small outdoor patio that’s attached to the building.
The ambiance reminds me of college.
A bright-eyed woman about my age is exiting as I reach the front of the restaurant. She holds the door open.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” she says, her red curls springing around her shoulders. She waits until I step inside before releasing the door.
I don’t hear it shut. From the television blaring a baseball game on the wall to the patrons shoulder to shoulder in the tight dining area to the heavy scent of oregano, it’s sensory overload. As I look for a clear path through the crowd, I spy a woman at the end of the counter.
“You heading to the patio?” she calls out.
“I’m trying to,” I say.
She motions for me. “Come this way and then scoot along the wall.” She points to her left as I get closer. “There was a town council meeting tonight. It brings them in like flies.”
I nod, not bothering to reply because her attention is already redirected to the kitchen. After saying “excuse me” several times and sucking in my stomach to get behind a high chair holding an adorable little girl, I make it to the door.
My foot hits the brick pavers outside just before I look up . . . and stop.
The sweet scent in the air is now kissed by a cool, crisp cologne that I recognize immediately. It takes only a quick glance to my right to ensure I’m correct.
Penn Etling.
Naturally, he’s here.
He’s leaning against a table that’s outfitted to look like a tiki bar. A beer in his hand, his hair a sexy, rumpled mess, he’s the nightmare of my dreams. And while the idea of feasting my eyes on him while I feast on a burger doesn’t seem like a terrible plan in theory, when he looks my way and a smirk settles on his stupidly kissable lips, that idea is less appetizing.
Because damn it if I don’t want him, even when I know I shouldn’t.
He sets his beer on the bar. With a swagger that should be illegal, he moseys my way. “When I said I’d be seeing ya, I’ll admit I thought I was going to have to work harder to make that happen.”
“Just pointing out the fact that you didn’t have to put any work into making it happen.”
“Yeah. I know. It’s fate.”
“No,” I say with a laugh. “It’s called ‘Mucker’s is the only place open.’”
He frowns. “You know, I didn’t have you pegged as a fun-sucker. But here we are.”
I can’t help but chuckle. His words are playful, his tone smooth and unassuming. But the heat in his eyes, the mischief lurking right behind his lashes, is anything but.
My chest rises and falls much quicker than I’d like, but there’s not a lot I can do. Every cell in my body tugs toward the man in front of me, and it takes all the restraint I can muster to stay cool.
“I’m a good sucker of fun . . . Don’t you say a word,” I say, wagging a finger his way. My cheeks heat at the opening I just gave him.