Page 60 of Where You Left Me

“What do you need, cowboy?” Rosie interrupts.

“You, Kit-Kat. Only you,” Nico drawls.

“You bet your ass that’s all you need,” Rosie teases, giving Nico a quick kiss before handing me an orange-colored frozen drink. “Here, have one of The Pine’s famous peach margaritas.”

“Actually, it’s Jones’s recipe,” Cammie adds.

Peaches.

As I accept the glass from Rosie, I flick my attention to Jones, and we lock eyes. His fixed stare ignites a deep ache in my core. A longing only he can satisfy.

And suddenly, I don’t care about the other women he’s been with. I don’t even care about the other women who have seen or touched his tattoo.

Because none of it matters.

That tattoo is meaningful tome. And that margarita recipe ismine. And Peaches ismynickname.

I slip around Nico and Rosie and when I reach Jones, I push up on my tiptoes to kiss him. His gaze is frantic at first until all at once, they soften and he pulls my body in, and I mold to him.

It’s daring. It’s public. It’s spontaneous.

And I don’t care.

When I pull back from him, he gazes at me in wonder and a smile pulls on my lips. The voices of our friends sound out around us, and I settle against him. He slips an arm around my waist and hoists me closer.

“What was that for?” he whispers finally.

“You made a drink for me?” I say it like a question.

He passes me a sheepish look. “I did,” he admits. “Part of me never expected you’d find out.”

A ball drops in the pit of my stomach.

“But a bigger part of me hoped that you would.”

Relief washes over me, and I rest my head against her shoulder. He kisses me on the side of my head.

“You know, Peaches, you’re the only woman for me,” his voice rumbles softly in my ear. “We share something that will tether us together forever.”

He’s not wrong. That is our reality. Our shared grief is something that connects us. In a twisted sort of way, it binds us together.

But the words that come out of my mouth still surprise me. “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Jones.” My chin quivers as I let it drop to my chest.

“Hey?” he mumbles.

Reluctantly, I lift my face to look at him.

“You don’t have to be. Not in this. Not anymore.” The kiss he gives me is clipped. It’s deliberate. It’s firm.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Rosie interrupts our moment. “Whatever’s got you two so uptight, it’s time to leave that crap at the door. Because we’ve got more pressing matters.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Jones quips.

“Cornhole of course.”

“I swear, no one takes cornhole more seriously than you, Rosie-Posie.”

“Let’s be real here, it’s not just cornhole. Rosie’s competitive in everything,” Nico says.

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