“Still footloose and fancy-free, huh?” She waved her glass to accentuate her words.
The bartender handed him his beer, and he grinned. “Since when did you start saying things like ‘footloose and fancy-free’?”
“Since I drank three whiskeys, two of them doubles.” She lifted her glass in salute and took a sip. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
He smirked, even if his heart wasn’t in it. “You bet I am. You?” He glanced down at her left hand, and his heart sank.
She held up her hand, the better to blind him, flashing a gold ring with multiple diamonds.
He swallowed his disappointment and for a moment actually considered getting up and walking away. He wasn’t sure he could sit here and pretend to be happy for her, or that his mind hadn’t spun into overdrive with excitement and possibilities the moment he saw her, but he also wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he acted that way. After all, he was the one who’d left and hurt her all those years ago. He owed her more than that. “Really, Blair? You don’t seem like the marrying kind.”
“People surprise you.” She grinned, but there was a bitter note in her voice.
He wanted to apologize—every fiber of his being demanded that he apologize. But he couldn’t. Despite what she thought, he knew her. The second he apologized, she’d kick his ass—probably physically as well as verbally—and walk away forever. Blair couldn’t stomach any sign of weakness, especially in herself. If he let this conversation get even borderline sappy, it was done.
“So tell me about the poor fool you ended up with.” He forced a grin.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Why? So you can make fun of him?”
“Depends. You know me. I make fun of anyone who believes in the Hallmark version of love.”
She laughed. “We both did.”
Yet she’d loved him once. And even though neither of them were sappy, what Garrett and Blair shared had been intense yet fun.
“Remember Anti-Valentine’s Day?” she asked, laughing as she watched him.
His breath caught in his throat. Her face was less than two feet away, and he had a powerful urge to lean over and kiss her, but that would ruin everything. He pulled himself together.
“How could I forget Anti-Valentine’s Day?” They’d gone out of their way to do the exact opposite of a typical Valentine’s Day celebration, opting for Chuck E. Cheese and arcade games and crappy pizza rather than roses and wine. Then Garrett led her to the roof of his three-story apartment building, where he’d set up a telescope, and showed her the star he’d bought for her and named Blazing Supernova. When she argued that the speck of dust he’d bought her wasn’t a supernova, he told her she burned brighter than any star in the sky, though of course he teased her too, so it wouldn’t come across as sentimental. And he gave her a plastic ring he’d won at Chuck E. Cheese, telling her that someday he’d give her a real ring, but it would be on October 14, because it was the farthest a person could get from Valentine’s Day.
Two months later he had ruined everything.
“Remember when we made fun of those idiots who were fighting over the last batch of roses at the grocery store?” she laughed, then finished her drink and motioned to the bartender.
Blair was a social drinker. She only got shit-faced when she was upset. Now he was worried about her. “So does your guy buy you flowers?”
“Hell, no,” she scoffed, wobbling on her stool. “He’s too practical for that.”
“So what does he do?”
Her eyebrows lowered, and she spent several seconds deep in thought. To his alarm, tears filled her eyes. “He programed my remote.”
He shook his head in mock appreciation. “An admirable gift.”
Her attention drifted over his shoulder, and he turned to see a hotel employee walking toward them.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The skittish woman looked like she was about to bolt. “There aren’t any rooms available here at the hotel or any other hotel in a twenty-mile radius. We checked.” She cringed. “Twice.”
Blair blinked, and her eyes struggled to focus on the woman. “There are no rooms anywhere?” The sentence ended in a shout.
The employee jumped. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“Ma’am?” Blair jumped off her stool and nearly fell over as she pointed her finger at the poor woman. “I’m not a ma’am! I could sue you for that!”
Garrett slid off his stool and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his stomach. “Whoa, down there, tiger.”
She looked over her shoulder and up at him, horror in her eyes. “She called me ma’am. How could she do that?”
Garrett gave her a sympathetic look. “Clearly the poor woman needs glasses, but I hardly think it’s worth suing over.”
Blair twisted in his arms until her chest was pressed against his, and she looked up at him. “There’s no room for me in the inn, Garrett.”
The seriousness on her face made him chuckle. “I’ll find you a stable somewhere, Blazer. Not to worry.” His old nickname for her slipped out before he could reel it back in, but thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.
“I hate horses,” she grumbled, resting her cheek on his chest.
“I know. I’ll make sure there aren’t any horses.”
The poor employee watched them in confusion, then lifted her gaze to Garrett. He winked. “She was joking about suing.”