Maverick (The Family Simon 3)

Everyone knew everyone and for singles, it was hard to meet someone new unless you moved away or drove to the city every weekend. Even then, what kind of guy were you going to meet in a bar?

Charlie glanced around The Devil’s Ride and grimaced. Ironic since she found herself here on a Friday night. Why the hell had she let Ava convince her to come out for drinks? The place was full—likely because there was a country band tonight, but mostly because there was nowhere else to drink and let off some steam.

Charlie didn’t normally do Friday nights for a whole lot of reasons. Mainly because by the time the weekend rolled around, she was dead tired. Hell, she was more than tired. She was overworked, mentally exhausted, and stressed-the-hell-out. She should have grabbed a six-pack of Bud and tackled the pile of invoices sitting on her desk instead of hanging in The Devil’s Ride, drinking cheap whiskey and munching on stale pretzels.

Ava took a sip of her beer and grinned. “So is he as hot as Jessie said he was?”

Charlie leaned back against the bar and shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Of course she was full of shit. Even though Charlie had barely exchanged five sentences with the guy, she’d got enough of an eyeful to know he was the kind of man you didn’t run into every day. Here or anywhere else, for that matter. It wasn’t just the fact that he was one of the hottest looking guys she’d ever seen—his face could have graced the cover of a fashion magazine—it was more than that. He was just so…so something.

What that something was, she didn’t exactly know but the guy had charisma and he oozed sex appeal. She would have had to be a moron not to notice. And Charlie wasn’t a moron—even as distracted as she’d been with Connor. She never knew when her brother would have a meltdown and with school being cancelled, his routine had been blown wide open. The littlest thing could set him off.

Rick.

His voice echoed in her mind. It had been rich, full bodied, with a slight drawl that marked him from somewhere south of here.

“Well didn’t he bring his sled in to your shop yesterday?”

Wow. News really did travel at the speed of light in this town. Amused, she took a few moments before answering.

“Yes he did.”

“And…”

Charlie reached for her drink. “And I wasn’t there. I fixed it this morning and was out picking up a transmission from the scrap yard when he returned.”

“Oh.” Ava sounded disappointed, but then perked up. “Maybe he’ll come out for a drink.”

“Maybe he’s holed up somewhere with a girlfriend or wife.”

“Nope.”

Charlie glanced at her friend once more. “How do you know?”

“Because Jessie said he’s staying out at the McLaren place and that he’s alone. Says that it belongs to his brother or something.” She frowned. “I remember that someone bought it a few years back, right?”

Charlie nodded. She’d heard the same thing, though no one had ever seen the guy.

“So maybe he’ll be looking for some excitement on a Friday night,” Ava said with a grin.

Charlie doubted that the man she’d met would find The Devil’s Ride an exciting place to visit.

“Maybe,” Charlie murmured, for the first time spying a man seated in the corner booth. Great. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t look away. She shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but she was.

Jeremy Martin.

He’d been Charlie’s on again/off again boyfriend since high school. They’d broken up when she’d left for college, but had hooked up when she’d returned. For a while, she thought he was the guy she’d marry—everyone thought it was going to happen—until he cheated on her with a married woman. And that would be the woman sitting across from him, Emily Bryan.

“Shit,” Ava said quietly, following Charlie’s gaze. “I didn’t know he was here. We can leave if you want.”

“And do what?” Charlie asked, dryly. “Jeremy and I haven’t been a couple for months now, Ava. It’s a small town. We’re going to bump into each other. Can’t avoid it and I’m over him anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

And she was. Except that Emily Bryan had married a good guy and it burned Charlie’s ass to see her out in public with the dingus who’s helped destroy her marriage.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed as Emily got up from the booth and leaned over to brush her lips across Jeremy’s. It was February—cold as hell—and the woman was decked out in a short skirt with a low cut top that left little to the imagination. Her long blond hair hung in ribbons down her back, the platinum ropes glistening in the dim light.

Jesus. Did she have some kind of power source stuck up in there? Who had hair like that?