“Of course,” Chance said.
Her gaze and his met and held. Chance’s mouth was still smiling, but his eyes were sad. It twisted up something too uncomfortably deep inside her to see that.
Vulnerable.That was the word for his expression. She wasn’t sure she could handle it.
“Maybe someday you can bring Bowie and Lane around,” she said, changing the subject. “I can finally meet them.”
“Bowie will be here at the start of his summer break,” Chance said. “He always comes home for a visit then.”
Cordy noticed he didn’t say anything about bringing Lane by. Interesting.
“I’ll have a drink ready for him then,” she said. “What does he like?”
“Straight bourbon.” Chance shuddered. “Can’t touch it myself—bad memories from a night drinking too much of it.”
“That’s cheap tequila for me.” She set his beer in front of him. “I heave every time I smell it. Luckily, we only stock the good stuff here.”
“You can tell me off if this is too personal,” he said, “but when are you starting maternity leave? And when will you be back?” Chance flashed her a smile. “I was being serious when I said I would miss you.”
She could almost believe he meant it. Maybe he did. Maybe that was Chance’s secret—he truly believed everything he whispered into women’s ears. Sincerity was damn attractive.
“I’m going to work right up until the baby is born,” she said. “Then I’ll be gone six weeks.”
Cordy had calculated it down to the penny—that was exactly how long she could afford to be without work. Sometimes, when she thought about what could go wrong and derail her careful plans, she broke out in a cold sweat. So she tried not to do that.
“That’s all?” Chance frowned at her. “Seems like not enough time.”
She didn’t let herself stiffen, although she did take offense. What would he know about any of it?
The baby wasn’t even here yet, but it felt like everyone had already decided Cordy couldn’t do this. Even the teachers in the baby classes, who were trying to help, only made Cordy feel completely unprepared. Just once she’d like someone to say, “You’ll be fine; you’re doing great.”
She put on her best customer-service smile. “Didn’t you say you were going to miss me? I can’t stay awaytoolong.”
“Don’t buy anything he’s selling.” Quint leaned against the bar. His expression flickered, and his voice dropped. “Damn shame about Reed.”
“Thank you,” she said, her chest tightening. “It was.”
“Ruby is friends with Reed’s sister, Hailey,” Quint said. “The whole family is still pretty torn up.”
Cordy’s mouth went dry. Hailey had been warming up to Cordy before Reed had died. If Hailey thought like her parents that Cordy and Reed were doing the whole co-parenting thing wrong, she hadn’t let on. Cordy wouldn’t have called them friends, but she and Hailey were getting friendly.
But after Reed’s death, the brakes had slammed on their budding friendship. Cordy had seen Hailey in the Mercantile one day, and the other woman practically ran away. Cordy hadn’t tried to talk to Hailey again.
She was still trying with Reed’s parents, though. After Chance had left her apartment, she texted them about the baby being the size of a pineapple. But again, no response.
“Yes.” Her voice was strained, but she couldn’t make it behave. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and she always had the perfect reply. It was what made her a good bartender.
Chance flicked an irritated look at his brother, but when he turned back to Cordy, he was all sunshine again. “How’s your noodle dog?”
“Good.” She seized on the opportunity to talk about something else. “We took a nice long walk today, and he got to sniff lots of bushes.”
“I’m amazed he made it off the couch.”
“Well, he was fast asleep when I left for my shift.”
“You have a poodle?” Quint asked.
“No, not a poodle, a noodle.” Chance shook his head. “He’s a greyhound. And limp like a noodle.”
