Page 38 of Prime Time Romance

“You lived above a bar?” Brynn raises one brow, as if she doesn’t quite believe me.

“I did.”

“Actually?”

I gave Brynn my previous addresses and employment when I first moved in, but I was never sure how deeply she looked into it.

“My dad owned a bar,” I explain. “I worked there and lived above it until he passed away a few years ago.”

Brynn’s face clouds with that familiar look of pity. “I’m sorry. Were the two of you close?”

“Very,” I tell her honestly. “That whole thing with Spence and the Bronze earlier…It triggered some stuff that I thought I’d dealt with….”

She reaches out and touches my shoulder. It’s just a light press of her fingers, but I can feel their warmth beneath my shirtsleeve.

“This is going to sound completely clichéd, but someone once told me that grief is love with no place to go. Sometimes it bubbles up at the oddest of moments.” She holds my gaze as she says it. “If you want to hear about an overreaction—my ex, Matt, used to have this bright-blue polo shirt that he loved. After we divorced, I automatically hated any man wearing a bright-blue polo. Didn’t matter how nice the guy or the shirt was, the reaction from me was visceral.” She pulls her hand away from my shoulder. “Now I can’t even set foot inside a Best Buy.”

She laughs, and I find myself laughing too until a thought occurs. “Hey. I used to have a bright-blue polo, but it went missing from the dryer shortly after I moved in.”

Brynn turns her head, but not before I catch her smiling.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll replace it if we get back.”

“When we get back,” I correct her.

She shakes her head and closes her eyes, but when she opens them again, her gaze shifts to something up ahead. “We’re not home yet, but at least we can say we made it back to the marina.” She points to a smattering of yellow lights in the distance.

Sure enough, as we get closer, I start to make out the outline of the boathouse, then the dock with a bright-blue paddleboat tied up next to it.

I follow Brynn’s gaze to the person sitting on the end of the dock, khakis rolled up to mid-shin. Spencer waves as we approach.

“Hey! You guys made it. I was starting to get worried.”

His open shirt catches in the breeze.

“You’re sure about him?” I ask.

Brynn’s smile falters for a second. Or maybe I just imagine it. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s Spencer Woods. He’s the dream guy. When he and Sloan finally get together, it’s going to be…don’t judge me for using this douchey frat-boy word…it’s going to be epic.”

This is what she wants.

I can’t say I understand it.

But I recognize that look she had in her eye earlier when she said, I need this. It’s the same look I saw in the mirror right after my dad died. When I was so determined to continue with his bar and not let his legacy die too.

I couldn’t make that work.

But maybe I can help Brynn with this.

I make one last push to get us to the dock.

“You can’t argue with epic.”

12

Brynn

Spencer reaches out his hand to help me from the boat and pulls me onto the dock, where my legs wobble like Jell-O, although it’s unclear if the cause is his sudden proximity or the fact that my legs are still recovering from all the pedaling.