Page 44 of Bad For Me (Rock Canyon, Idaho 5)

“Did you know that Val’s going to a strip show?”

“Now, that seems like a double standard,” Everett said. “Didn’t she say no strippers?”

“No, I said I didn’t want strippers.”

Everett smiled as he slapped his brother’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“Yes, I am.” Justin held up his bottle to tap the neck against Everett’s.

Everett took a long pull of his beer, trying to think of a casual way to ask Justin for Callie’s number. He didn’t want to make it obvious or have his brother start asking questions.

“You know, I’d like to add a song to the playlist, if you don’t mind. Maybe I could get Callie’s number?”

“Dude, if you want her number, just ask.”

“I am asking,” Everett snapped.

“What are you gonna do for me?”

“How about not sharing the time you wet yourself during your first-grade Christmas play when I deliver my best-man speech?” Everett kicked at the back of Justin’s chair as he walked by and sent him careening to the floor.

“You fucker.”

“Total accident, I swear. Now, about that number . . . ”

Chapter Eleven

CALLIE COULDN’T GET Everett or his insanely awesome kiss out of her head—or the fact that it had been almost five days since she’d seen or heard from him.

How is he supposed to get a hold of you? It’s not like you volunteered your phone number, and you’re unlisted!

Callie cursed the little voice in her head and jerked her car door open. She was in a pissy mood. On top of the letter she’d received from Tristan last week, Valerie Willis had dropped off the playlist for their wedding, and their first dance song had nearly sent Callie into hysterics.

What were the odds that they’d choose the same song as she and Tristan?

When she started to download the songs into the playlist folder on her laptop, she hadn’t wanted to listen to that song, even briefly. She hadn’t listened to “I Love the Way You Love Me” by John Michael Montgomery since she’d started planning her wedding with Tristan.

They had been standing in the kitchen, making dinner, and she’d pulled out her iPod. Pressing the screen, she’d come up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What do you think of this one?”

He’d grabbed her hands from around his waist and lifted them to his lips.

“I think this is perfect for us.”

But as she’d dropped the file into the playlist, it had started playing. Even the first few bars had made the urge to drink strong enough that she’d considered heading out to Hank’s. Instead, she’d called her sponsor, Tim.

It had helped, thankfully, but between that, work, and wondering where she stood with Everett, she’d been in a bad mood for days and distracted to boot. So distracted, that this morning, she’d left the freezer open. All of her frozen meals—which tasted like cardboard anyway, no matter what spices she added—were ruined. And then she’d been depressed because she’d become that single woman who relied on frozen dinners because she didn’t want to go through the trouble of cooking for one.

“Stay, Ratchet.” She slammed the door to her Jeep in the Hall’s Market parking lot. On warm days, she left him at home, but it was barely forty degrees out. He could chill for ten minutes with the window cracked.

Once she’d grabbed a cart, she headed toward the frozen food, glancing down the aisles as she passed. And suddenly she saw Everett, holding a box of something in his big, masculine hands.

She paused, at war with herself. Should she head down and say hi, or pass him by? Was his silence a sign that he’d lost interest?

Or maybe he thinks you aren’t interested and is giving you space?

Before she could even process her decision, she was rolling down the aisle, staring at his profile. From this side, she saw the unblemished part of his face as he grabbed a few more packages of . . .