Page 1 of My Last Fling

Chapter 1

Fourteenmonthsago

Cole

Other people would probably avoid their workplace on their night off. But, since Peach Fuzz is the most popular bar in this little town, it’s the best place to spend a Friday night without driving to Savannah. Besides Luke wanted to get out of the city, and Linc only has a babysitter for my niece until 10pm. So, Peach Fuzz it is.

I don’t mind, though. I love this place. I love the comfort of looking around the room and recognizing the staff and most of the patrons. I love the friendly smiles and waves from people I’ve known most of my life. I know small-town life isn’t for everyone, but it suits me. It’s the main reason I opened my restaurant here instead of someplace like Savannah where it might have made more money or been more successful. I wanted to build something lasting in the town where I grew up. I wanted to plant my roots here. And I’m damned proud of what I’ve accomplished in the last few years.

This old building stood empty for years before I scraped together the last of my money to buy it. Then, I’d worked my ass off at a construction job my brother had helped me get while I’d thrown every spare penny into the renovations. Linc helped me as much as he could when he wasn’t working himself or taking care of Ella. He’s always been there for me, and I know I owe him more than I could ever repay. I don’t think Peach Fuzz would be what it is today if not for my big brother standing beside me every step of the way.

When I walk into Peach Fuzz, it’s already starting to fill up with the dinner rush. I try to act like any other patron of the restaurant, but it’s difficult to stop looking at it with a critical lens, wondering who needs a drink refill or whether a table has been waiting too long for their appetizers. As I make my way through the restaurant toward the bar, I scan the tables, smiling greetings at familiar faces. When my gaze lands on an unfamiliar dark-haired beauty who’s looking around the room as if she’s sizing up the place, I pause to study her.

She’s gorgeous with long, dark hair tumbling down her back in waves. She’s sitting ramrod straight in one of the booths that run along the dance floor and separate the restaurant side of the room from the side that’s more of a bar. She looks more than a little uncomfortable here. I’m guessing this isn’t her normal choice of dining establishment. I don’t take offense, though. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since opening Peach Fuzz, it’s that you can’t make everyone happy. Damned if I don’t want to try with her, though.

There’s another dark-haired woman seated across from her who looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her. There’s a resemblance between the two women that makes me think they’re probably sisters. They both have the same dark hair and high cheekbones. The other woman is a little shorter than the one who first caught my eye. She’s also not as deliciously curvy. Not that I’m checking out her curves or anything. It’s just one of those things a guy notices. That’s all.

I watch them talk for a few seconds, wishing I could hear their conversation. I know I can’t walk over and eavesdrop. That would be not only rude, but downright creepy. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s not being one of those creepy dudes that women cross the street to avoid. I want to be the guy that women can count on to protect them from that guy. But now I’m staring at a woman I don’t know and wishing I could hear her conversation. I’m not sure where this falls on the scale of creep.

I glance at my watch, realizing that my brother and Luke will be here any minute. If I’m going to do anything, now is my chance. Studying the two women again, I see that their table is empty of food or drinks, meaning they haven’t had a chance to order yet. And none of the servers has walked over to greet them since I’ve been watching. An idea forms in my head.

“Fuck it,” I whisper under my breath as I start walking toward the table.

I cue up my best smile—the one that shows my dimple and has made more than one female resident of Peach Tree blush—and turn to the curvy brunette.

“Welcome to Peach Fuzz,” I say, injecting all the charm I can muster into those four words. “Is this your first time here?” I ask, though I know it is. I’d definitely recognize this woman if she’d been here before.

To my delight, her cheeks go pink, and she averts her gaze. That blush is adorable and has me wondering if I can make it happen again. I wait for her to respond, but when she doesn’t, the woman across from her does.

“Yes,” she says. “First time.”

I reluctantly drag my gaze over to the other woman and give her a small smile that she returns.

“Do you have any questions about the menu?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll have a peach margarita.”

I give her another smile that’s less forced. “That’s one of our most popular drinks.”

She grins up at me. “Can’t imagine why.”

I laugh, suddenly remembering where I know her from. She’s the owner of the new coffee shop in town. I’ve been meaning to stop in and check the place out, but it keeps slipping my mind. I can’t remember the name of the shop, but I’ve driven past it plenty of times.

“We have a friend joining us too,” she says, pulling my attention briefly back to the present. “Can we get a margarita on the rocks for her?”

I nod. “Absolutely.” I turn back to the other woman, my smile growing again. “And for you?”

It takes her a few seconds to look up at me. When she does, I’m caught off guard by the directness of her gaze. What happened to the woman who’d blushed at me less than 5 minutes ago?

“I’ll have an old fashioned,” she says, her full lips curving up slightly.

I grin at her. “A bourbon girl. Nice.”

I hear someone call my name and look in the direction of the voice. Luke waves at me from the bar and I hold up a hand to stall him. When he nods at me, I turn back to the ladies.

“My name is Cole,” giving my mystery woman another full-wattage smile. “If you need anything at all, just let me know.”

I know she can hear the flirty tone in my voice. I’m laying it on thick, I know. But I can’t help it. Something about this woman intrigues me. It’s not just that she’s so obviously not from Peach Tree. It’s also not that she looks just a little out of place here in my bar. There’s something else about her that’s captured my attention and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But damned if I don’t want to find out what it is.

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