Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
What would it be like to be alone with him after all these years? Would the subject of that night come up? The pregnancy? The adoption? How would we handle it? Was there enough distance between then and now for us to be able to talk about it without weirdness?
There was also a distinct possibility he could turn out to be a big fat jerk. Maybe that vulnerability I thought I’d glimpsed this morning was all in my head. Maybe he’d snap at me again—I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive this time. Maybe I’d need an excuse to duck out early.
Oh for goodness sake, April, I told myself as I pulled open the glass door to the inn’s lobby. Relax. But just in case, right before I went into the bar, I pulled out my phone and texted Chloe. Hey, can you check in with me in about an hour or so?
Chloe: Of course. You okay?
Me: Yes. Just walking into the bar.
Chloe: Completely understand. You got this.
One of many awesome things about my sisters—they understood things like this. I felt much better as I entered the bar.
It was crowded for a Thursday evening, but nothing compared to the way it would be in a few weeks when all the “summer people,” who’d been away through the cold months, started returning to their second homes and cottages on the water. I enjoyed the cozy, quiet atmosphere of Cloverleigh Farms during the winter, when it was all covered with snow and a fire always roared in the inn’s fireplace. But I loved seeing it come alive when the snow melted and wedding season picked up again, when the winery tasting room was always full, and the inn was booked up solid. I was always happier when I was busy.
Was that because I was lonely?
I shoved the thought aside.
Right away I picked out Tyler sitting at the end of the bar. Even from behind in the dim light, I knew his wide shoulders, his tall frame, his thick dark hair. Smiling and calling hello to a couple regulars I recognized, I made my way toward him, ignoring the way my pulse accelerated with every step.
When I reached his side, I touched his shoulder. “Hi.”
Immediately he stood, offering me his seat.
“You don’t have to get up,” I protested.
He held up one hand. “Please. I know my manners were AWOL this morning, but I swear I have them. And my dad taught me that a man never sits while a woman stands.” He gestured toward the vacant stool.
“Thank you.” More at ease—he was still a nice guy—I slid onto it. “I was sorry to hear about your dad. He was such a good guy.”
Tyler nodded. “Thanks. He was.”
“You must miss him a lot.”
“Yeah. It happened so fast. I guess I should be glad he wasn’t in pain long, but I wish I’d had more time with him.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Although part of me is glad he went before he had to witness my career ending the way it did.”
“Hey.” I put my hand on his arm. “He still would have been proud of you. That’s what family does—they love us and they’re proud of who we are, not just what we do.”
“Yeah.” He tipped back the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on the bar in front of me. “Anyway, thanks for meeting me tonight.”
“Of course.” I smiled, taking in his clean white button-down with the sleeves cuffed up, his dark jeans, and brown lace-up boots. His dark hair, which I could see now that he wasn’t wearing a cap, was still thick and wavy. Girls had always loved his hair. “You clean up nice.”
“Thanks. You look nice too.” He leaned a little closer to me, his eyes focused on mine. “Hazel?”
“What?”
“Oh, sorry.” He straightened up, looking a little sheepish. “Earlier, I was trying to remember what color your eyes were, because you were wearing sunglasses and I couldn’t see them. But it’s kind of dark in here, so I’m guessing—are they hazel?”
I laughed. “Yes. They are.”
“And you still have your red hair.” He tugged a strand near my ear. “That’s how I recognized you on the track.”
“I do still have red hair, because as any redhead will tell you, it’s nearly impossible to color. You have to bleach it, which I tried once with disastrous results.” I cringed at the memory. “It was not a good look for me.”
Tyler seemed surprised. “Why would you want to change it? I fucking love the color of your hair. I always have.”
Flattered, I felt the rush of warmth to my face and knew my cheeks had roses in them, as my mother would say. “I don’t know. It was in college. I think it was at a time in my life I was trying to change a lot of things about myself—I guess I wanted to feel like somebody else, and the hair color seemed like a good place to start.”