Page 59 of Here With Me

“How will you listen if your tongue is halfway down Tripp’s throat?”

“Don’t give me false hope!” She scoffs when I laugh. “Nope, tonight is all about findin’ me a new man. No more of these emotionally unavailable boys.”

My eyes widen in surprise at the sound of her new mindset. “Finally! ’Bout goddamn time. Just don’t hook up with someone you work with.”

“Trust me, if there was anyone at work worth seein’ me naked, you’d know about it by now. And we both know I’d quit my job if it came down to that.”

Easy for Magnolia to say, but if we get caught, I won’t be the one without a job. Fisher would be the unemployed one. But the ranch needs him, too. So quitting isn’t an option for either of us.

“Okay, I gotta go before I’m late, but we’ll talk more over margaritas!” I grab my purse and hug her.

“You got it, babe. I’ll be three deep in by the time ya get there.”

I shake my head, smiling. “You better wait for me. No tipsy Magnolia.”

“Fine.” She chuckles, walking out with me to my truck.

“Be careful,” I warn when we go our separate ways.

“I should be tellin’ you that.” Her taunting has nervous butterflies invading my stomach. I’ve been dreading this for two days.

How the hell am I supposed to sit next to my ex-boyfriend and pretend I’m not thinking about his dad whispering in my ear what a good girl I am for taking his dick so well?

Lilian’s Steakhouse is packed when I arrive. Nearly every stool is taken at the bar, which means it’s louder than I expected. The dining area is in the back, where it’s quieter, but I’d much prefer the loudness to drown out my anxious thoughts.

“Hey.” Fisher stands against the wall next to me. His eyes fixate on one of the TVs behind the bar as if he’s purposely not looking at me. “Jase not here?”

“Not yet. As soon as I parked, he texted that he was runnin’ late, but I let the hostess know of our reservation.”

“Oh.”

I steal a glance and grin at his black slacks and matching suit coat. A gray button-up is underneath but no tie. It’s a different look than I’ve seen him wear before, but I’m not complaining. It fits him well in a professional kind of way that makes me want to slowly strip off each item.

“You look breathtakin’,” he mutters so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

My throat tightens when I try to thank him and reciprocate the compliment. Being alone with him feels like a date, one we never got to have, and it makes me wish even more that our circumstances were different.

“Do you wanna drink?” he asks when my silence lingers.

“Absolutely,” I immediately respond.I need one...or two.

He finally meets my eyes, and a hint of a smile graces his scruffy face. When he brushes a hand through his hair, it messes it up in a way I wish I were the one threading my fingers through it.

“What’s your poison?” he asks once we squeeze our way to the bar.

Men twice my age. And off-limits.

“I’ll start with a mojito. Or wait, maybe a Long Island Iced Tea.”

“A bit indecisive tonight?” He arches a brow. The corner of his lips tilts up as he waits for me to choose.

Shrugging, I take the stool next to me when it opens up. “You pick for me, then.”

Once the bartender comes over, Fisher orders a Budweiser for himself, glances at me with amusement written on his face, and leans closer toward her.

“And a Screwdriver.”

I furrow my brows, wondering how he came up with that one.