Page 17 of Your Place or Mine

I looked at the other woman. She was trying very hard not to smile. She looked different, less cautious than she had been earlier.

Relaxed, maybe.

Her cheeks were flushed, probably from laughing, and she had a bit of lip gloss smudged near the corner of her mouth.

I tried not to notice. Or maybe I tried too hardnotto notice, which meant I absolutely did.

I slid into the table across from them instead of next to Melanie, who gave me a mock pout.

“Coward,” she said.

“Strategist,” I countered.

The brunette glanced out the window, then back at me. “So, is it always this busy on a Friday night?”

I shrugged. “Depends on the week. The river’s been low lately. Tourist traffic thins out this time of year, so it can get even busier.”

“It’s kind of perfect,” the brunette said, fiddling with her straw. “The town, I mean. Quiet. Sweet. It’s got this nostalgic feeling, like something you want to protect, you know?”

I tilted my head slightly, studying her.

“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”

Melanie wiggled her eyebrows between us like she was physically incapable of not stirring the pot. “See? Look at that. Shared values. I knew this was a good idea.”

“I didn’t agree to a matchmaking scheme,” I said.

“No, but you sat down. Which is basically the same thing.”

The brunette chuckled and glanced around the bar again, her gaze lingering on the old jukebox, the photos on the wall, the handmade event signs still curling at the edges.

“It’s got a lot of charm,” she said, voice soft.

“You mean it looks like it hasn’t been updated since '92,” I said.

She grinned. “I wasn’t going tosaythat.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“No, I was thinking more like ‘78. But I mean it with love.”

“Love doesn’t pay for plumbing repairs,” I muttered.

“Oh, I know all about that,” she said, eyes lighting up. “The apartment upstairs? The faucet in the kitchenette drips like it’s trying to form its own river.”

Melanie leaned in and whispered, “It’s part of the Reckless River experience. Leaky charm.”

I arched an eyebrow.

Melanie opened her mouth, but the brunette answered first.

“Yep. Well, I mean…I’m staying there while I figure things out. Get to know the property better. I didn’t want to start changing things until I saw it all myself. You know… perks of owning it.”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

She looked confused for a second, then realized what she’d said. “Oh. Right. Sorry. I thought you knew. I’m the new owner. Lydia Tate. I bought the building.”

I froze.

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