“I thought I did at the bar,” I say, referring to the first time I saw her again.
“Psh, that was like a quarter of our newest additions.” Dani laughs and brushes her long blonde hair off her shoulders. “You haven’t even met Graham’s wife and my niece and nephew.”
I smile at her and look to my parents, who are agreeing to lunch. “I guess we’re in.”
Dani squeals in excitement, and I remember how much energy the girl has. She kept me on my toes, and there was a song or two from my early career days dedicated to our crazy adventures when we were kids.
I smile faintly and shake my head.
It’s almost like I never left.
11
jax
Felicity isin my world again.
Not just home in our small town, not just wandering the streets and being with her family again, not just making waves with her presence and becoming the topic of conversation.
She is here. Inmyworld.
The ranch is a second home for me—has been since I could ride—and now that I work and live here, it is slowly but surely becoming the largest chunk of my life.
And she is here.
Sunday afternoon lunch was open to just about anyone who had a connection to the Trevors’ family, and it was becoming quite the production. Inviting the Vogels to lunch was, of course, inevitably going to happen whether I liked it or not.
There are probably over sixty people here, and avoiding her should have been easy. Except it isn’t.
Because whether I like it or not, I’m drawn to her damn orbit every time I see her. She was best friends with Dani back in high school, and I was great friends with CT. Not to mention,my brothers usually congregated together, and therefore, I was bound to end up sitting near City Girl for this lunch.
I just don’t expect it to be right beside her.
The picnic table has one slot open at the end of the bench when I arrive with food piled high on my plate, and I take one look at my cousin’s deviously sneaky grin and know that it was all planned.
I think about walking away, about finding the kids, ditching my food, and starting a game of cornhole.
But my stomach growls, reminding me that my cupboards at home were bare this morning, and I had skipped breakfast.
Hence, the overflowing plate of food.
Grumbling under my breath with my heart in my throat, I make the move to sit down beside the one person in this world that ever meant anything to me outside of family.
Felicity’s bright green eyes flash to mine in surprise when I sit down, not asking if it is okay first. Why would I ask? This is my home, not hers.
“Oh.” Her voice is a whisper against the side of my head. I glance over at her and can’t help the way my eyes devour every morsel of her image. Her long blonde hair is down around her shoulders, leading to her neck that holds a delicate gold chain, and her dress is doing more for her than I should be taking note of.
“Hi, Jax.” Her soft voice pulls my attention to her eyes again, and I clear my throat, realizing that I was staring at her when I shouldn’t anymore.
“Hi, City Girl.” The nickname slips effortlessly across my tongue, and I watch as her expression softens. I was the only one that called her that, the only one who was allowed to at one point in our relationship.
I shouldn’t have said it now.
Her lips part, and I wait for whatever she wants to say to me. Is she going to yell at me for using the nickname, for sitting too close, for invading her space? Or was she going to act like we were old friends, like we could use this opportunity to catch up?
Hell, part of me hopes she will. I’d love to know all about her life, about how she caught her big break, about her writing process in the studio, about her life on the road.
But she does none of those things, turning away with a smile and listening intently to a story Stetson is telling across the table.
