Page 24 of Broken Vows

“Yeah, I got that from the part where the gate was lying on the ground.”

Her mouth pulls into a tight line.

Shit.

This is where I should say something nice. Something smooth. Romantic, maybe.

I clear my throat and look at her, scrambling for a compliment. Women like compliments. Clothes are usually safe. Hair, sometimes. Shoes, maybe. I don’t know. Something.

“You, uh…”

My gaze drops to the front of her little white top.

Bad choice.

It’s fitted. Not trying to be anything, which somehow makes it worse.

I look for longer than I should. I know I should stop. But I can’t seem to do that.

Then she pulls her cardigan closed over her chest.

Shit. She noticed.

Great. Now she thinks I’m some kind of pervert.

I force my gaze back to her face.

I need to smooth this over. Fast.

I clear my throat, trying to sound normal. “Maybe we could have that drink now?”

Her expression hardens instantly.

Fuck.

“No, wait—not like that.”

“Get off my property.”

“I meant just talk⁠—”

“Now,” she says, flat.

I grab my toolbox and head back home, the metal banging against my leg with every step.

Strike fucking four.

8

LEVI

It’s Sunday night, and the snooker club is thick with cigarette smoke and the familiar clack of balls. It’s an old-school place with sticky carpets, faded green felt, and framed photos of dead regulars watching from the walls.

Theo’s perched on a bar stool, legs swinging, charming the new bartender. She keeps smiling at him and topping up his orange juice. The kid’s doing better with women than I am right now.

“Your turn,” Jim says.

I look down. He’s left me an easy shot. I miss it by a mile.