“Okay. Be careful,” I demand when she gets up to leave.

“No worries. I’ll be right back.”

I watch her as long as I can, just to make sure she’s okay. Then I turn my attention to my cell phone, making sure Nancy hasn’t called. I smile to myself as I picture the girls completing the wonderful make over they’d just started on Nancy as Harlow and I were leaving the house. Green eye shadow, very unnaturally red cheeks, and fuchsia lips. Hair teased and standing straight up...poor woman. It’s gonna take her the rest of the night just to get the eye shadow off.

Throwing my phone back into my purse, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. And it’s not a good feeling. I feel kind of gross, actually.

I look up to see Bobby Reeves making his way across the bar to our table. Ugh. My gut feeling was right, gross. I absolutely detest this man. He’s one of those guys that used to be really good looking in high school, but didn’t really age well…like, not well at all, but he thinks he did. You know those guys? The ones that gain fifty pounds and lose half of their hair, but they’re still convinced that they’re the varsity football captain. Bleh.

I dart my eyes in every direction but his, trying to scan the bar for any sign of Harlow or Trace. Just as I grab my purse and start to jump up from the table, I feel a hand on my arm, keeping me in place. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of it. No need to bolt,” Harlow says with a smug smile, Trace in tow. Thank God!

Harlow protectively places her body in between mine and Bobby’s. “Don’t even bother coming over here Bobby Reeves. Just turn around and walk away!” She says shooing him with her hand. “She’s not interested. In fact, for the record, she’s never going to be interested. So just turn around and go back to where you came from, and I don’t mean the table you happen to be parked at this evening, I mean go back to your wife!”

What? I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.

Oh. My. God. I cannot believe she just said that. I look at Trace with wide eyes and we both start laughing. It can’t be helped. What a douche bag. He deserved every bit of what Harlow gave him. I guess it has been a while since I’d been out with Harlow, because when the hell did he get married?

Watching Bobby and his defeated stride as he heads back to where he was previously “parked”, I make a mental note to try to catch a glimpse of the poor woman who thought it suitable to legally wed this man. Yikes…

I turn back to Harlow and Trace, giving them a grand smile.

“Hi, Trace. It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad to see that you have indeed survived the first few minutes with Harlow. You’re definitely doing much better than that guy,” I offer, throwing my thumb over my shoulder, obviously indicating Bobby. I reach my hand out to shake his and notice that this man is absolutely, 100% drop dead gorgeous. I must have been extremely side tracked in the office that day, because this man is downright drool worthy. His clear, sky blue eyes are perfectly accentuated by his extremely dark lashes and dark eyebrows. And his smile is just as gorgeous. He actually has one of the most genuine smiles I’ve seen in a long time. Yeah, this guy is definitely growing on me.

I look over at Harlow and raise my eyebrows in obvious approval. She giggles, and resumes whatever conversation they had been having before going on the offensive against Bobby.

A good hour and a half later, I have learned that Trace O’Connell grew up in Waco. We graduated the same year, but he attended a private school, while Harlow and I were slummin’ it in public. He left Waco for a while, but returned when he heard of the recent job opportunity, deciding it was time to move closer to his family, regardless if he landed the job at Synergy or not. A decision I very much respected.

We actually had a lot of the same acquaintances in high school, but I don’t remember ever meeting him. Harlow, however, remembered exactly who he was. Which was the real reason for her rushing me the day of his interview. She confessed this to me during one of our many trips to the bathroom.

“I knew something was going on!” I yell from the other stall after her admission. “You were acting so weird that day!”

We giggle on our way out of the bathroom, stopping at the bar to grab another round of beers. Since I’m beginning to feel a little buzzed, I grab a glass of water as well. Heading back to the table, I stop dead in my tracks.

“Is that–” I turn to Harlow with my eyes popping out of my head, probably very similar to certain cartoon characters I’m subjected to every Saturday morning. I shift my gaze back to our table where I see him, standing right in front of me, in his stupid perfect jeans and his stupid perfect shirt, with his stupid perfect hair. All I want to do right now is punch him in his stupid perfect face.

“Please, Harlow, tell me you didn’t,” I say walking up to him, not bothering to wait for her answer.

I slam my beer down on the table, next to the glass of water, right in front of Blake…which actually did not have the effect I originally anticipated. Instead of supporting my dramatic entrance like I wanted it to, the beer just foams up over the top of the neck of the bottle and starts flowing all over the table. I turn to Blake, trying to give off the vibe that I totally meant for that to happen.

“What the hell are you doing here? Huh?” I snap at him, attempting my mommy death stare. Once again, I’m reminded it needs some serious upgrading, because he’s looking back at me with his own Blake Morgan death stare. I would like to go on record that mine is much more intimidating than his.

“ALEX!” Harlow yells. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I would just like to know what he’s doing here.” I keep my eyes fiercely glued to his while I continue speaking. “I mean, I’m sure that you already know what he’s doing here, right Harlow? I’m sure that this is another attempt to save Alex from her miserable existence.” I turn my glare to Harlow.

“Alex, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I have no idea what he’s doing here. But, last time I checked, Waco was still part of the free country in which we live. I wasn’t aware that there was some sort of requirement for an ‘Alex Approved’ guest list for George’s Bar. If I had known, I would have sent out a mass email to all of Waco!” she shouts in my face.

Did she just “finger quote” me?

Turning back to Blake, I state matter-of-factly, “Newsflash…just as much for you as for everyone else I’ve been in contact with lately. I don’t need you here to rescue me! I don’t need you here to be my hero! What the hell are you even doing here? I don’t even want you here! Why can’t you just leave me alone!” I am literally yelling at the top of my lungs and breathing like I just ran a marathon. Tears are forming at the base of my lashes, but I refuse to cry.

Blake doesn’t say a word. He says absolutely nothing. He just looks at me, then Harlow, then says something that I can’t hear to Trace, turns his back to me, and walks out of the bar.

“Really, Alex, you can be such a bitch sometimes,” Harlow bites at me through her clenched teeth. She runs after Blake, leaving me on my own with Trace. What the hell is her problem? I roll my eyes in annoyance and turn my attention to the stunned man standing next to me.

“Sorry about that, Trace,” I say apologetically. “I’ve had enough of that man this week to last me a lifetime. I apologize for losing it like that, but I warned Harlow to not push me about him. It’s kind of a long story.”

We stare at each other for a minute. He seems hesitant to speak. I think I scare the poor guy.