Too Fast to Fall (Jackson Hole 1.10)

One man stood alone near the door, his long blond hair pulled into a ponytail and a goofy smile pasted on his face. Nate slid his eyes back to Jenny and looked again. Yeah, she was staring right at that guy.

“Who is he?” Nate asked.

“My ex,” she said, her mouth stiff in a way he’d never seen, not even when she’d been fighting back tears yesterday.

“Ex-boyfriend?” he pressed.

“Ex-husband,” she said. “Ellis.”

Nate blinked and looked back to the blond. “Recent?” he asked, realizing at the same moment that he’d crafted a false sense of familiarity with Jenny Stone in his mind. He knew her age and birthday and accident history. He knew she didn’t have a criminal record, and she kept her insurance up to date, and he knew where she worked. Other than her willingness to be an organ donor, what else did he know except that she smiled a lot and liked to drive fast?

She might have five ex-husbands. She might be married right now.

Following the example set by her hand, which had pulled away from its interesting closeness as soon as she’d spotted her ex, Jenny pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes still on the man. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Wait,” Nate started, but the ex-husband was heading over now, his eyes on Jenny.

“Sorry,” she said again before moving toward the bar. The man’s trajectory changed and he followed her across the room. Nate’s neck prickled at the sight of a pursuit, even if it was a slow one, but the ex’s smile only showed friendliness. There was no edge to it. No warning. But Nate watched closely, keeping an eye on the man’s face, his shoulders, his hands, watching for any hint of suppressed violence.

The guy said something, and Jenny grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the end of the bar.

“Come on!” he said on a laugh, his voice loud enough that Nate could hear. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“What are you doing here?” she nearly shouted.

When they reached the bar, their words were no longer loud enough to hear past the crowd. Ellis seemed to be talking a lot while Jenny frowned and shook her head.

Nate cursed the ex-husband’s timing, his own slow draw on making a move, and added a few general curses for his inconvenient interest in someone as complicated as Jenny Stone. Curling his fist, he looked down at the hand she’d touched, one faint brush of her fingertips over his knuckles. It had been nothing. The pressure barely even noticeable. So why could he still feel it?

He clenched his hand hard, forcing his nerves to let go of the lingering trace of herself she’d left behind. If he could force his mind to do the same, that would be even better, but her presence was still bouncing around in there, leaving bruises in her wake.

She, on the other hand, seemed to have completely recovered from their encounter. Hands on her hips, she was now facing good old Ellis, her clenched jaw barely moving as she read him the riot act. Either that or she had a very tense style of reminiscing. Ellis maintained his loose-limbed stance, smiling indulgently at her diatribe.

“Ellis!” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air.

“It’s not like that!”

When the guy laughed, Jenny seemed to get even more frustrated, and a wild gesture caught a half-full pitcher on the bar. It slid away and shot into the air between two patrons before it crashed to the floor. A screech went up as people were splashed with cold beer.

Nate shot to his feet, already stepping forward to control the situation, but he wasn’t needed. The male bartender grabbed Ellis by the collar of his shirt to haul him out, but Jenny shook her head and tried to calm the situation down.

Whatever she said, her ex-husband moved toward the door with a smile. “I’ll come by later, Jenny!” he called, still perfectly cheerful as he left the saloon.

Nate stood there, ready for violence, adrenaline pumping through his veins as the crowd broke into scattered applause. Jenny grabbed a mop and came around the bar to clean up the spill. Once that was done, she crouched down with a rag to clean the splatter from the bar stools.

Frozen in place between two tables, Nate watched her, waiting, wondering if he should offer to help. Wondering what to say. But in the end, he didn’t say anything at all. Jenny didn’t look in his direction. She didn’t even glance up. She just stood and headed back behind the bar.

Nate slid the business card off the table and left.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU REALLY KNOW HOW to pick ’em,” Rayleen cackled from her corner table for the tenth time that night.

Jenny sighed and rolled her shoulders, determined to continue ignoring the old lady.

“He sure did have pretty hair, though. Do you give it a hundred strokes at night? That’s the recipe for a good marriage, you know.” More cackling. Rayleen was drunk.

“He’s my ex, Rayleen.” Jenny sighed. “I don’t stroke anything of his, and I haven’t in a long time.”