"I won't forget." She slipped the key in the ignition but didn't start the car. He was still holding onto the window. "Um, anything else?"
"Huh? Oh, right." He lifted his hand away. "I was just wondering what you've got planned for Saturday."
"Oh." Her stomach did a little flip. "I don't know. Why?"
"The Fix is going to have a booth at Eeyore's Birthday Party. Brent and I were hoping you'd be coming, too. He's bringing Faith, of course."
"Oh," she repeated, as a thin sheen of disappointment settled over her. Which was ridiculous. She loved Eeyore's Birthday Party. The annual event at Pease Park was an Austin tradition, and she'd been going since she was a little girl. Plus, she loved Brent and Faith, and would happily work the bar's booth if they needed her. So what did she have to be disappointed about?
Absolutely nothing, she told herself firmly. Not one, single thing.
And with that, she turned the key, felt the engine rumble to life, and heard herself saying, "You know what? That sounds just about perfect for a Saturday."
Easton Wallace was a goddamn bastard.
That, at least, was Reece's current assessment of the man. Since Jenna had left, it had changed pretty much hourly--actually, a hell of a lot more frequently than that--and had ranged from lucky s-o-b to conniving lady-killer who needed to be stopped.
Not to mention every insult in between.
Which was probably a little unfair. After all, Reece had gone out with Easton for drinks a couple of times since that night at the Broken Spoke. And it was Reece himself who'd reminded Jenna to ask Easton about legal work.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Was he deliberately pushing her toward Easton? Toward any man other than himself?
Hell yeah, he was.
Why? Because Reece sucked at relationships, and Jenna deserved a good man.
And even if he didn't crash and burn every time he was with a woman, even if he didn't think that marriage was a convoluted ritual designed to kill passion and foment discontent, he still wouldn't pursue Jenna. Too much risk.
He'd much rather spend his life without her in his bed so long as it meant that she was in his life.
So why did he have the urge to bloody his fist against Easton's aristocratic nose?
Because the thought of Easton's hands--or, God forbid, his mouth--on Jenna was enough to make Reece--
"You okay?"
Reece spun around to find Brent leaning against the door frame of the small office where Reece had been pacing. "What?"
"You're prowling. You worried about all of this? Partnership? The plan?"
"Huh?" Reece shook his head, trying to shift gears. "What? No. No, not at all. I'm just thinking about Jenna."
Fuck. He hadn't meant to say that.
"I mean her job interview," he continued before Brent interrogated him. "This trial by fire tonight." He glanced at his watch. Past nine. "Guess we'll be hearing soon how it went."
"I bet she nailed it. You know Jenna. Whatever she puts her mind to..."
"Yeah, you're right. I'm just--doesn't matter. I'm going to go relieve Cameron." Reece pushed past Brent, feeling like he'd dodged a bullet, then headed toward the back bar and tapped Cam on the shoulder. "Go take your dinner break. I'll cover for you."
"Yeah?" Cam's brow furrowed, probably because Reece usually didn't cover for the employees when they were well-staffed. Today, however, Reece wanted the distraction of mixing drinks--because if he was thinking about the pour, that meant he wasn't thinking about Jenna.
He spent the next hour pouring drinks, circulating among the customers, chatting up the regulars, and generally keeping his mind on the work--and absolutely nothing else.
He'd mostly succeeded in pushing thoughts of Jenna behind a mental curtain when the vibration of his phone in his hip pocket startled him. He snatched it out, glanced at the screen, and everything he'd been fighting against fell away.