Page 25 of Where I Should’ve Been

But tonight, I didn’t feel like numbing it all.

I didn’t feel like drinking until the edges blurred and faces became meaningless or getting cut off just in time for Randy to show up to play chauffeur.

Maybe it’s the snow. Maybe it’s that stupid newspaper article. Maybe it’s the fact that I was working on the farm until well past ten this evening. Or maybe it’s Breezy Bishop, coming into town like a beautiful, complicated reminder that you’re still alive.

Instead of whiskey, I drank water. Instead of the live music, I listened to the hum of the old heater as I made a late sandwich.

Now I’m standing in my living room in nothing but boxer briefs, towel slung around my shoulders, hair still damp from a shower hot enough to scald the day off me. I’ve got three weak spots in the fence to patch tomorrow—weak spots my damn sheep made from constant head-butting. If I don’t fix them, I’ll wake up to find the whole flock parading down Main Street again and Randy being taken away in an ambulance on account of a stress-induced heart attack.

I’m about to call it a night when there’s a knock at the door.

Instantly, I groan. Probably Midnight Randy here to bitch some more about my lack of planning, my half-assed gate repairs, and my nonexistent strategy. I swear, we argued enough earlier today to last a lifetime, but that’s my brother for you—never met a dead horse he wouldn’t beat.

I swing the door open, already gearing up for round two, but freeze solid instead. Because it’s not Randy.

It’s Breezy Bishop.

Her black bob is sleek and shiny even under the weak porch light. Her boots are dusted with snow, and her striking blue eyes are steady on mine.

“Everything okay?” I ask, thrown completely off my easygoing script. I tucked it in for the night, thinking I was alone.

Her mouth curves like she knows exactly how much she’s knocked me sideways. “You tell me.” And then she steps past me, straight into the house like she belongs here.

The scent of her perfume cuts through the faint smell of soap that’s still clinging to my skin. And I stand there dumbly for a second, hand still on the door like my brain needs a reboot.

“You said your door’s always open,” she tosses over her shoulder, a casual, cautious flirt. “Or was that more of a…neighborly thing. Like, in case I needed a bag of sugar or a wrench.”

“I don’t have any sugar. And you don’t look like you’d come looking for a wrench.”

She grins. “I’m not here for a wrench.” Her eyes sweep over me, taking in my bare feet, damp hair, boxer briefs, and towel slung over my shoulders. “Or a bag of sugar either.” She closes the distance between us. “I’m curious, what do you think I came here for, Tad?”

Her voice is playful but direct. Her smile is charming but deadly. If she’s a black widow, I’ll gladly tangle up in her entrancing web.

I arch a brow. “You sure you want to risk Eileen finding out about you coming over here this late?”

“Please.” Breezy laughs. “I waited until everyone at Bennett’s was in bed before I came over. I even checked your bushes before I knocked and didn’t see any camera lenses or hear heavy breathing.”

“Smart woman,” I murmur.

Her smile softens as she tilts her head. “What do you think I came here for, Tad?”

I glance at her boots, her perfect jeans, the way her sweater fits her like it was tailored. She’s so beautiful she doesn’t seem real. For a guy like me, that’s all the better. “I think you came here so you can be fully educated before leaving your Yelp review.”

“Finally.” Her responding laugh is warm and amused like she’s enjoying this game. “He’s catching up.”

“Hey, I’m not slow,” I protest. “I thought we slept together three days ago, remember? Maybe it was more fantasy than amnesia.”

She laughs, low and genuine, and damn if it doesn’t go straight to my chest. “You’re something else.”

“Something good?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Don’t push it.”

For a second, we stand there, the air buzzing between us. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t fidget. She’s confident as hell, and it makes me feel like I’m the one being measured here.

Finally, she steps into my space, close enough I can smell the faint citrus of her perfume. “Relax, Tad. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Good. Because I want you here too.”