Page 41 of One Wild Chance

Larissa rolls her eyes as she puts the lid on the blender. “A horse can’t hold you on the couch.”

“True.”

She turns on the blender, and I catch myself in the rearview mirror. My hair’s a mess, and I’m not even sure if concealer will help the dark circles underneath my eyes.

“I’ll go,” I say. “But it will be short.”

“Yay!” she squeals. “You won’t regret this.”

“I’m only going for you.”

“You will talk to someone. Even if I have to force you to,” she says firmly. “And wear the blue dress!” She hangs up before I can argue with her.

I sit in the parking lot for a moment, phone in my lap. I know most women my age are having way more fun than I am. They’re moving away to cooler cities and spending time with someone other than horses. But twelve-hour workdays leave me no time for dating. And I’ve never been into keeping a dizzying social calendar.

I also don’t want to become a worn-out woman like my mom was, working a dead-end job because I have no other option. I know Mom didn’t choose to end up alone, but she never made another path for herself, and that’s not something I want to repeat.

As much as I’d like to crash on the couch and mindlessly binge a show, Larissa’s right. Fun is exactly what I haven’t been having. And maybe if I’m lucky, I won’t even think of Jaxon once tonight.

Chapter 13

Summer

When I step into the Blue Moon Saloon, the Coosawhatchie band is already on stage, playing something upbeat and twangy for line dancing. The place smells like onion rings and barbecue sauce, and nearly everyone in town seems to be packed in here. Of course, in Golden Springs, there’s nowhere else to be on a Saturday night.

Larissa waves from the bar, where she’s claimed two stools and is already nursing a drink. She looks over my soft blue maxi dress, then nods. “That dress. I’m glad you listened.”

“I’d never hear the end of it if I hadn’t.”

“You know me so well.” She grins over her glass. “So. Are you feeling feisty, or are we easing into this?”

“I’ll follow your lead,” I say with a hint of mystery.

“If you need to practice, there’s always Sawyer.” She nods toward the bartender.

As if on cue, Sawyer saunters over, filling up a water and sliding it in front of me. The man has been behind this bar long enough that he can strike up a conversation with anyone.

“You girls talking about me?” Sawyer gives us his trademark grin.

“Maybe,” Larissa says with a gleam in her eye. “You know how to make everyone feel welcome.”

“That’s the goal,” Sawyer replies, winking at Larissa. He’s not flirting; he just winks at everyone who comes in. And it shows in his tips at the end of the night.

Tonight, he’s going to make bank because the place is buzzing with familiar faces. My gaze circles the room.

“They’re not here,” Larissa says, reading my mind.

“I wasn’t looking.”

“I saw you look,” she says, stirring her drink.

“I was checking out the room. I think there’s some new decor on the back wall.”

“You mean the deer head that’s been there since 1980?” She lifts a brow.

“Sawyer.” I lean on the bar. “Tell her I wasn’t looking for anyone.”

Sawyer sets down his glass and holds up both hands. “I don’t get involved in disputes.”