Page 2 of Rory Rides Her Fake Fiancé
I watch her go. Collin ordered a bucket of brews, sure, but there’s a big crowd down there and they might be all gone.
Heather’s just about to reach Collin, to give him the usual kiss on the cheek, when Rory says, “So, next month?—”
My head whips around faster than a hunting dog hearing a whistle. “Excuse me, did you just initiate a conversation with me?”
Rory’s cheeks are pink, and instead of answering she takes a swig of her beer and averts her eyes.
I put a hand to my chest. “Oh my god, why are you so obsessed with me?”
Rory chokes, coughs, and when she regains her composure, insists, “I am not obsessed with you.”
“Please. You come all the way out here?—”
“It’s on my way?—”
“—to visit our little Podunk bar.”
“You carry my favorite beer.”
“So does the Kinnara restaurant in town?—”
“Their beer isn’t cold enough.”
“—and Schmidt’s pool hall.”
“It’s full of grouchy old men!”
“You always sit right here at the bar so you can talk to me?—”
“Your fake leather booths suck.”
I lean against the bar to deliver my final point. “And really, Rory, you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”
Rory opens her mouth to argue but the cowbell rings again. I glance over and grin.
It’s my other boss, Kit Hutchinson, wearing a cowboy hat. He doesn’t normally come in on Sundays, since it’s his busiest day of the week, but he’s got a special delivery for me.
“Hey man,” I say as he slides onto a barstool. I reach across the bar and we do a complicated handshake. It’s mostly by rote memory now, but there’s palm slapping, knuckle grinding, and pinkie wrestling.
I’d teach it to you, but it’s top secret.
When we finally break, I dig out a beer for Kit and he glances over at Rory.
Then he does a double take.
“Wait, is this her?”
I lean back against the cooler and cross my arms, grinning.
“Me?” Rory’s eyes widen.
“Are you Rory?”
She nods.
“Morgan talks about you all the time. When are you gonna put him out of his misery and go on a date?”
Rory turns to glare at me. I just grin wider and flex. Rory’s gaze drops down. My flannel sleeves are rolled up and I’m showing off grade-A forearm porn.
