Page 42 of Savage Heart

I grin despite my foul mood. “Gotta air out sometime.”

She looks how she always does—polished, sexy, and slightly out of place with her high heels and heavier makeup than the women around here wear.

“You’re looking good too. How’s New York?” I ask.

“New York is great, but a girl gets nostalgic.” Her smile tilts. “And lucky me, I’ve run into the very man I was hoping to see.”

Normally that would hit just right. I’d smirk, and she’d step in closer. Maybe we’d go to dinner and catch up, but typically, we’d just fall into bed together without any preamble. We tried dating when we got back home from college, but she wanted to get out of Ironwood, and I never planned on leaving. She stayed awhile—I don’t know if she thought I’d change my mind or what—but when she realized I didn’t really want to be in a relationship either way, she left.

Back then I was still trying to adjust to life in Ironwood without Lincoln. In no shape to be in a relationship. But as the years have gone on, I’ve decided I prefer the single life anyway. I loved somebody once, and all it ever did was cause me a world of pain.

Zoey has since been married and divorced, and our occasional hookups have been fun and easy. No expectations, no promises.

When I don’t respond right away, she wrinkles her nose.

“Bad night?” she asks, glancing toward the bar.

“You could say that.”

She steps closer, heels clicking on the sidewalk. “I can help with that.”

I imagine it for half a second. Her hands. Her mouth. It would normally fix my mood to get lost in her for a while, to burn off this frustration.

She stops just inside my space, close enough that I can smell her perfume, and tips her head back to look at me. Her hand runs down my chest, but I feel nothing.

Instead, I think of the way Iris’s hips felt on the dance floor. Her face flushed and angry as she stared up at me, those full lips parted, her eyes drifting to my mouth like she could imagine tasting me.

Fuck.

I step back.

Zoey blinks. “Wow. That’s new.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I know.”

She studies me closer. “You okay?”

I laugh once, humorlessly. “Sorry, I’ll be fine.”

“Why don’t I believe you? That bad, huh?”

“It’s not—” I stop myself. “I just can’t do this tonight.”

Silence settles between us, broken only by laughter spilling out every time the bar door opens.

She sighs. “I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed.” She moves forward and puts her hand on my shoulder, leaning up to whisper in my ear, “Guess I’ll let you brood in peace, cowboy.”

I shake my head, laughing. “It’s good to see you,” I say.

“Next time maybe you’ll mean it.”

I groan, and she laughs.

“Don’t worry, Maverick. I’ve always known what this is and what it isn’t.” She winks. “And you’re just having an off night.”

I put my hand on her waist, bending slightly as she kisses my cheek.

We’re interrupted by a door flinging open, and Iris rushes out. Her hand is on her chest, and she takes huge gulping breaths.