Page 30 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

They were talking. He had no idea what they’d said. Because he was too busy thinking about where he’d rather be. And who he’d rather be with.

He was going to have to get a handle on this, because he was not hooking up with McCloud’s Landing’s newest employee.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure,” she said, shaking her curls.

Bubbly girl was claiming it, so he went ahead and let her take his hand and he led her over to the bar. “Whatever the lady wants,” he said.

It felt like reading from a script. It felt well-worn and obvious.

Lachlan hadn’t bought his date a drink. But then, you didn’t need to buy that girl a drink. Bouncy girls needed them. A little spoiling beforehand. It went a long way. Made them feel like it was a magical moment rather than something sordid, and it was very important, in his experience, to women like this, that it felt like they mattered, and he was paying attention.

Except he wasn’t. But whatever. She didn’t have to know that.

“Can I get a mojito?” she asked.

The bartender looked at him. “Make the lady a mojito, Jeb,” he said.

And Jeb turned around, muttering something about it being all gol dern fancy around here these days. But Brody didn’t care.

The drink was made pretty quickly, and the woman sat down on the stool, shimmying her shoulders up to her ears as she took a sip from a straw.

“This is good,” she said.

“Yeah. The drinks here are surprisingly good.” Because looking at it, you would just think that they served piss water. But he didn’t say that last part out loud.

“I’m Amanda,” she said, smiling, her eyes glittering. She had enticing down to an art, he had to give her that.

“Brody,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Such a familiar dance.

The problem was, she could have been Amanda or Casey or Jocelyn. Redheaded, blonde, brunette. Bubbly, bouncy, or mean. It would’ve all been the same.

It wasn’t her fault. None of it was. She was a nice enough girl, and she was very pretty. None of what he was feeling had anything to do with her.

He could take her home. They could have sex. It’d all function just right.

But it just made him feel... It made him feel a little bit dirty, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that over something this simple and straightforward. Or at least, something that should have been simple and straightforward.

“I have to go,” he said. “But the mojito goes on my tab.”

“What?” She looked confused.

“Don’t think it’s anything you did. Because it’s not.”

And then she laughed. She flat-out laughed. “Are you worried that some stranger declining to have sex with me is going to hurt my self-esteem?”

He blinked. “Well... I was a little worried about it.”

“I’m a girl boss,” she said. “It’s going to take a lot more than the rejection of some random cowboy to make me feel bad about myself. Anyway. I like my consent enthusiastic. So if you aren’t into it, there’s no reason to go there.”

He had misread this woman. And while she was certainly more interesting than she had been a minute ago, he still wasn’t that kind of interested.

“Well,” he said. “Good.”

“And I can buy my own mojito.”

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