Collide (The Barker Triplets 2)

His gaze dropped to her hand. He noted the faded tan line from a ring. Bingo.

Suddenly the whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth. What the hell was he doing here anyway? He had a lot of work at home that could have kept him busy until midnight.

“I said I’m off in ten—”

“I heard you,” he interrupted, a flash of anger in his voice as he shifted in his seat. “I’m not interested.”

Her eyes widened for a second and then she took a step back, lips tight as she glared at him. He’d obviously insulted her, but did he care? Hell no.

“Did you want anything else?”

He shook his head and was about to answer when the door flew open, a gust of wind propelling it backward so that it slammed into the wall with a loud bang. Everyone in the bar turned and for a moment Shane wasn’t exactly sure what it was he was looking at, because at first all he saw was white.

A whole lotta white that wasn’t all snow.

He cocked his head to the side in order to see around the waitress and his gut clenched when the wall of white materialized into a woman. A slim, sophisticated looking thing, with a profile he knew all too well.

Her hair was a bit of a mess, the usual sleek fall that cut to just past her chin, kind of wild and all over the place. And the dress, well the dress wasn’t exactly something you’d see in a place like this—though the fur thing hugging her shoulders was interesting. Shane arched an eyebrow and settled deeper into the shadows as she angled around a full table of men—several of whom issued the tried and true catcall. Which, she paid no attention to, other than a flip of the bird in their direction as she passed.

Holy shit. Bobbi Jo Barker. In her wedding dress.

What the hell?

He watched her stride through the Hard Rock as if she owned the place, her gaze focused on the bar. Danny, big boy, Davis, smoothed the thinning hair on top of his head and squared his shoulders, throwing his impressive chest out. Impressive, because it was matched in equal size to the gut that protruded and pinched into the top of the bar as he smiled toward the newcomer.

Bobbi grabbed her long skirt and threw it to the side so that she was able to slide onto one of the bar stools with relative ease. She set a delicate white bag to her side—it sparkled something fierce which was a miracle considering the lighting was crap—and blew out a long breath. One, fine strand of hair curled into the air like a feather in the wind, and Shane watched as it slowly fell to earth and rested on the edge of her nose.

She tugged it out of the way impatiently, and spoke. “Tequila.”

Shit, this was gonna be good. Tequila? Tequila and Bobbi meant only one thing. Trouble with a capital T.

The look on Danny’s face was comical. He cleared his throat and stuttered, “Ma’am?”

“Do I look like a Ma’am to you?”

He shook his head, “Um, no Miss...ah…”

“Here’s the thing, Danny. I want a shot of tequila and then I’m going to want something else. I’ll let you know what that something else is as soon as I get my tequila. Sound good?”

For a second Danny was speechless—it was obvious that he was surprised the woman in white knew who he was because he sure as hell didn’t recognize her. And how could he? This plastic and fake version of Bobbi was nothing like the one from back in the day—though her attitude was certainly the same.

Shane had been home in New Waterford for just over four months. He could count on his hand the number of conversations he’d had with Bobbi and while he had been away, she’d become something he didn’t recognize.

But this? This was interesting. Almost as interesting as the fact that she was here in the first place. Without her new husband.

“Tequila?” she said pointedly, settling herself onto the stool, her wet heels dripping melting snow onto the floor beneath her.

For a moment there was absolute silence in the bar, even the waitress who stood a few inches from Shane held her breath.

“Actually, make that two shots and don’t forget the lemon.”

Danny cleared his throat, scratched his head and took a step back as he glanced down to the end of the bar, at the old guy who was staring open-mouthed at Bobbi. He then turned and grabbed the bottle of tequila from behind him and poured out two shots, scooping a couple lemons from beneath the bar. He set them in front of Bobbi and waited.

“Salt?” she said pointedly, slipping her feet out of her heels so that they fell onto the floor. Shane’s eyes grazed the delicate ankles, and the fire-engin

e red toenails.

Suddenly aware that she was the focus of every eye in the bar, Bobbi turned to the side and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m not an exhibit at the zoo so I’d appreciate it if you’d paste your eyes somewhere else.”