“Fuck,” Finn said, the corners of his mouth lifting as he started to walk toward the entrance again. “Have you always?”
“Not looking to talk about it,” Cole muttered, hating putting up the wall with one of the few friends he had. “Not right now anyway.”
“Sorry,” Finn quickly corrected before opening the door for them both. “None of my business.”
Cole started to walk toward the door, but turned when he saw Finn hadn’t moved.
“Does she know?”
Fuck. “Yeah. She knows.”
“Has she always known?”
“No,” he said flatly, turning on his heel, the sharp movement stretching the ligament beyond comfort. He grimaced briefly and straightened his gait to hide the reactive limp. Oh-for-three on normal human conversations tonight. Hands in his pockets, he headed for the entrance.
The heat of the packed place, the noise, the movement, it all came rushing over him as he stepped inside. Overwhelming as shit.
Cole chewed the edge of his tongue and pushed his shoulders back. Head held high, careless, he strolled through the crush of the Friday night crowd.
10
Fake it ’til you make it
Tracewasinstantlyswallowedby the chaos that was Ahab’s. Fishing nets on walls and ceilings, a freaking boat on the ceiling, murals of old-fashioned whaling scenes. And, the requisite billiards, darts, high top tables, and enough people they were probably pushing the safety limit.
A mouse-like squeal chirped in her ear, its owner bobbing a bouncy leap as Pippa ambushed her from the side like a velociraptor.
Wiry arms wrapped around her and angled her away from her trajectory. Pippa Sutherland had a plan, and Trace knew there was no escape.
With desperation sparkling in her smile, she looked back at Haley, but her lifeline only laughed and rolled her eyes, and then topped off the abandonment with a tiny, possibly sympathetic wave.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Trace chuffed at Pippa, making herself as narrow as possible as they pushed crossways through the crowd surrounding the bar.
“Before we sit down,” Pippa said gallantly, “I have someone I want to introduce you to.”
Shit. It was becoming contagious. An unstated mission that had spread from her parents to her work crew, and now, even her loyal friends and, soon, all of Foothills would be actively trying to solve Trace’s third-wheel problem.
It would be another nice guy. The sort that said her red hair was pretty. Her freckles interesting. Her personality sweet. He would take these marriageable traits and not risk desperately hiking up her skirt and doing her against the wall, because nice girls needed to be carefully wooed.
Not that she was against wooing. But a spicy date capped off by a wall-banger should be part of said wooing.
While Trace scanned the crowd for a rescue, she realized none was coming. Some of her friends were sliding tables together, a few catching up with other people who obviously did not need a rescue right now, all while Pippa chattered incoherently about some great guy who Trace hoped wasn’t the one wearing the sweater vest ahead.
In a last ditch effort, she looked back toward the entrance, at least to check on Cole, to make sure he had made it in okay, or if he’d done the smart thing and run like hell.
Smack. Trace eeked as she slammed into Pippa. “Sorry,” she muttered, realizing she had foolishly trusted Pippa to guide her safely while she’d checked for Cole.
Oh. Pippa might be more trustworthy than the rest. Feet steadying under her, Trace moved to Pippa’s side and looked up at the nice guy Pippa had found for her. Jeans and a tee, flannel shirt, hiking boots. He fit the northwest guy bill, always a plus. He bit his bottom lip as he seemed to realize Pippa had brought him a treat, and he laughed under his breath, looking back at a group of guys across the crowd.
And then he landed his chocolaty brown eyes on Trace, and she could easily have melted.
Pippa laughed like this was the jolliest coincidence. “Eli. What a coincidence running into you here.”
A giant with an award-winning smile, he didn’t slouch, but he wasn’t intimidating. “Hey, Pippa. Remember, we talked about it this morning? When you asked my plans for this weekend, and I mentioned my brothers were in town, and you suggested I take them here?”
“Of course. I was just being ironic,” she said with a phony sheepish laugh. She hooked her arm sharper around Trace and tugged her closer, throwing off Trace’s balance. “I’ll let you get back to your brothers. But first, since you’re new to Foothills… this is my friend Trace. She teaches French at the high school.”
“Bonjour,” he said, hooking what might be a little devilishness in the grin as he settled his attention on Trace.
