Page 2

Chapter Two

IVY

Standing at the far end of the bar is a man in a tuxedo, a head taller than most of the people in the bar, holding a drink in one hand and looking completely out of place in the best way possible. The sharp cut of his jacket, the way his dark hair catches the light—he’s magnetic. His beard is perfectly trimmed, giving him a rugged edge that’s at odds with the polished suitcoat.

Instantly, some feeling pours through my gut. He’s definitely not from here. No way I would have missed him before. I would have seen him at some kind of function. I would have seen him at Walmart, HyVee, or one of the few bars in town. Also… what is he doing in a suit?

Riverbend isn’t like Chicago or New York. We don’t have many white collar companies based here. None, actually, that I know of. So the fact that he’s wearing a suit is perplexing.

Lauren elbows me, breaking my focus. “You’re staring.”

I tear my gaze away just before I feel the stranger’s eyes on me, heat rushing to my cheeks.

“I’m not,” I say, instinctively.

She grins playfully. “You were . And honestly, I get it. That guy looks kinda like James Bond, but, like...hotter. It’s like if James Bond worked out but he was secretly a cowboy.”

“Good one.” I laugh nervously, trying to play it off. “What’s a guy like that even doing here? This is a blue collar college watering hole, not a New York cocktail bar. And I was not staring. Just looking.”

Lauren shrugs, her eyes flicking back to him. “Maybe he’s a professor at Riverbend Valley. Or someone’s rich dad. Or a lost groomsman? Either way, he’s not from around here. You can just tell by his vibe.”

“Clearly.” My gaze betrays me as it slides back to him. “So…how do I get him to talk to me?”

Lauren snorts. “Look at him—guys like that don’t even have to approach women. He’s probably used to women throwing themselves at him.”

I shake my head, studying him. As if on queue, a sorority girl bumps into him and tries to catch eye contact.

He nods politely, and goes back to gripping his cocktail.

“No, he’s...too hot and too...” I struggle to find the words. “Like he should already be taken. He looks too mature for the frat crowd. That beard? That’s not a boy’s beard—that’s a man’s beard.”

Lauren bursts out laughing. “Ivy, did you just refer to his beard as proof of maturity?”

“I’m just saying!” I whisper-shout, my cheeks flushing. “He doesn’t give off ‘single and available’ vibes. He looks like someone’s husband, the kind of guy who’s way too out of my league.”

Lauren rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Ugh, would you stop saying that! Ivy, you’re gorgeous. If anything, you’re out of his league.”

“Well...maybe we’re in the same league,” I say, a hint of a grin tugging at my lips.

“Okay, fine. But your hair looks great tonight. And that dress. Phew. I’m glad you wore it out.”

“Aw, thanks. I made it fancy since I thought I was going to the fundraiser.”

Lauren grins. “Fundraiser’s loss, Cherry Street’s gain.”

Before I can answer, the man shifts, placing his drink down on the bar and turning toward me. My breath catches as we make eye contact. I immediately look away, but he’s walking this way.

“Oh my God,” Lauren whispers, grabbing my arm. “He’s coming over.”

The man crosses the bar, his strides slow and smooth, like he owns the room. I should look away, pretend I’m too busy or distracted, but my eyes betray me, locking on to him like he’s magnetic.

“Oh my God, Ivy,” Lauren hisses under her breath. “He’s coming right here. ”

Before I can process what’s happening, he stops in front of me. He’s taller than I expected, his broad shoulders filling out his tux perfectly. His piercing blue eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the noise of the bar seems to fade into the background.

“Hi,” he says, his voice low and smooth, with just a hint of warmth that makes my stomach flip.

“Hi,” I manage to reply, though it comes out softer than I’d planned. Almost a whisper. His gaze holds mine, and I feel pinned in place, my pulse racing.

Up close, I notice little details, like tiny flecks of gray in his beard that make him look even hotter. The kind of hot that’s rugged and refined at the same time, like he could split wood and then recite poetry. My cheeks flush, and I realize my hands are gripping my clutch so tightly my knuckles are white.

I swallow hard. My body feels heated . My skin tingles like I’m standing too close to a fire, and his calm, self-assured energy isn’t helping. I can’t do this. I can’t talk to this man.

“Gotta go,” I blurt, spinning around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. I don’t wait for Lauren’s reaction as I push through the crowd toward the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, I grip the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. My reflection doesn’t look panicked, but it feels like my insides are doing somersaults. “What are you doing ?” I mutter to myself, still feeling the lingering heat from that interaction.

The door bursts open behind me, and Lauren strides in, looking both amused and exasperated. “Are you kidding me right now?” she says, folding her arms.

“What?” I ask, still clutching the sink like it might hold me upright.

“What?” she repeats, mocking me. “Ivy, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen just walked across the bar to talk to you, and you bolted. Bolted! ”

“I panicked!” I say, my voice a little higher than usual. “Did you see him? He’s too good-looking. Too grown-up-looking. He said hi, and I forgot how to exist. ”

Lauren stares at me, her lips twitching like she’s holding back a laugh. “Forgot how to exist? Ivy, he’s a man, not a mythical creature.”

“Debatable,” I mutter. “A guy like that in a bar like this, in this tiny town actually is a little mythical.”

Lauren sighs, grabbing my arm. “You might be a little right, but I don’t care. You’re going back out there.”

“No way,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yes way. You’re not hiding in the bathroom all night. Besides...” She grins mischievously. “He’s still watching the door.”

Nerves buzz under my skin. “He is not.”

“He is,” she says, dragging out the words with a singsong lilt. “I mean, probably. Okay so I have no idea if he is. But you’re not going to leave him hanging. Take a deep breath, and go say something. I’ll be your emotional support friend from afar.”

“I don’t meet guys like that in this small town!” I protest. “I can’t talk to him. What do I even say?”

“Don’t overthink it so much, Ivy. Just be normal. Be you. If he likes you, great. If he doesn’t, his loss. Why do you worry so much? Just enjoy the ride.”

I heave a sigh. “Okay. Good idea.”

“I’m not your best friend for no reason,” she says, crossing her arms smugly.

I glance at myself in the mirror one last time. My hair looks decent. My dress still fits just right. I can do this.

“Okay.” I say. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

I pull open the door before I can overthink it, stepping back out into the buzz of the bar. My heart pounds as I glance toward where I’d left him, praying he hasn’t disappeared.

Lauren gives me a quick thumbs-up before disappearing into the crowd, leaving me to fend for myself. Great. Thanks for the support, bestie.

I glance toward the bar. He’s still there, leaning casually against it, his drink in hand. The tux looks even better up close, tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean frame. His eyes flicker to mine as I approach, and that faint, infuriating smirk reappears.

“You came back,” he says, his voice low and smooth, like he’s completely sure of himself.

I stop a few feet away, gripping my clutch tight. “It seemed rude to leave you standing here, looking so out of place.”

His eyebrow lifts, his smirk widening. “Out of place, huh? Is it the tux? Too much for a bar like this?”

“A little,” I admit, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach. “Most people don’t show up to the bars on Cherry Street looking like, uh, like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, his tone teasing.

I hesitate, suddenly feeling the heat crawl up my neck again. Why is it so hard to form words around this man? “Like you’re on your way to an art gala or some fancy awards ceremony.”

The man chuckles, a deep, warm sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Well, for the record, I wasn’t expecting a Cinco de Mayo party. Honestly I’ve been so wrapped up in work that I totally forgot about it. It used to be one of my favorite holidays to celebrate.”

“And here I thought you were just lost,” I say, feeling my confidence returning as his grin softens into something almost...curious.

“Maybe I was,” he says, holding my gaze a little too long. My breath catches, and I feel the heat rising in my chest again.

“So,” he continues, tilting his head slightly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The question is simple, casual, but it lands like a spark. My heart stumbles over itself, and I can’t tell if it’s his voice, his eyes, or the way his presence fills the space around him.

I falter, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Sure. Why not? You’ve got to learn all about me, right?”

He grins. “Tell me your top three fun facts, then.”

“Well, I love old paintings, trains, and eating late night meals in diners. That about sums me up, honestly. I’m a pretty simple girl.”

“Tequila alright?” he laughs, his voice smooth and casual, like he already knows I’ll say yes. “I’m also a fan of those three things.”

I shrug, forcing myself to meet his piercing blue-eyed gaze. “I mean, it is Cinco de Mayo. So tequila seems appropriate.”

He nods, turning to the bartender. “Two shots of tequila, and two bottles of Dos Equis.”

The bartender starts prepping but pauses, frowning as he glances over his shoulder. “Ah, sorry, man. We’re out of limes.”

I blink, mock-gasping. “Out of limes? On Cinco de Mayo? That feels impossible!”

The bartender laughs, shaking his head. “You’re not wrong. We’ve got the college crowd to thank for that—they cleaned us out an hour ago.”

I wave it off with a grin. “No big deal. I can rawdog it.”

The bartender snorts, but the man, standing next to me, goes completely still for a moment before breaking into a slow, rich laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he looks at me like I’ve just said the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Rawdog it, eh?”

I flit my eyebrows. “That’s right.”

“Do you...like to rawdog?” he asks, his tone laced with amusement.

I feel my face flush, but I’m quick on the comeback. “Only for tequila,” I say breezily, lifting my shot glass. “And only on very special occasions. Like my future wedding night.”

He cracks up again at my joke—thankfully—and his grin widens as he picks up his glass. “Well, then happy Cinco de Mayo. To rawdogging it . With no lime.”

“Happy Cinco de Mayo,” I echo, clinking my glass against his.

We both knock back the shots, and as the tequila burns its way down, I’m acutely aware of how his gaze lingers on me, sharp and assessing. The bartender slides the beer bottles our way, and I grab mine quickly, needing something to hold onto before my nerves get the best of me.

“So,” he says, leaning just a fraction closer. “You make tequila jokes often, or am I just lucky tonight?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re lucky. I’m usually more sophisticated. Something in the air tonight.”

“Oh really. And if I called you a liar?”

“Guess you’ll never know.” I take a sip of my beer, tilting my head at him. “And you? What brings a guy like you to The Tipsy Cactus? You seem a little overdressed for the occasion.”

He shrugs, his gaze steady on mine. “Let’s just say I took a wrong turn...and ended up in the right place.”

“Okay, come on. What are you doing in Riverbend? No one just randomly comes here. It’s not exactly on the way anywhere.”

“It’s a cool town, though. I quite like it.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, unconvinced. “That’s not an answer. Are you always so vague and mysterious?”

Before he can reply, I catch sight of Lauren across the bar, chatting with some of her local friends. She notices me, and I wave her over. Her face lights up as she excuses herself and walks toward us, clearly curious about the man at my side.

“Well, well,” Lauren says as she approaches, her eyes darting between me and him. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Oh, um...” I start, realizing I don’t actually know his name yet.

He steps in smoothly, extending a hand to Lauren. “I’m Jackson,” he says, his voice warm and confident.

Lauren shakes his hand, her eyebrow quirking. “Nice to meet you, Jackson. I’m Lauren, Ivy’s best friend.”

“Well Lauren, and Ivy,” he repeats, turning back to me with a small, curious smile. “It’s nice to officially meet you. Both of you.”

I feel my cheeks flush slightly, but I manage to hold his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you too. Jackson.”

Lauren crosses her arms, leaning slightly toward me with a playful grin. “Well, Jackson, what brings you to our humble little town? It’s not every day we see a guy in a tux drinking Dos Equis at The Tipsy Cactus on Cherry Street.”

Jackson chuckles, taking a sip of his beer before replying. “It’s not every day you meet two gorgeous small town ladies at a random bar.”

“Uh-huh,” Lauren says, her tone dripping with suspicion. “He’s a charmer. Well, whatever the reason, welcome to Riverbend.”

“Thanks. Are you all always so welcoming, or just with me?”

“Oh, hun,” I reach in, patting Jackson’s arm. “You’re lucky. Just go with it. Don’t question it.”

I eye Lauren as I say it, knowing I’m more or less repeating her own advice from earlier. She winks back at me, taking a slow sip of her drink.

Jackson chuckles. “I’ll do that.” He clears his throat. “By the way, what do you do for work?”

“Oh, I’m a teacher.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really.”

I narrow my eyes at his surprised tone. “Uh…what?”

He smirks, nodding toward my barely touched beer. “Well, the way you’re nursing that drink? Thought you might be an R.N.”

For a second, I just blink.

Then, I burst out laughing, reaching over and touching his forearm.

“Okay, that was actually funny,” Lauren admits, shaking her head.

Jackson grins, looking way too pleased with himself. “What can I say? Dad jokes are in my blood.”

I shake my head, still laughing, warmth curling through my chest.

I should not be this charmed by a silly one-liner.

But damn it, I am.

I take another sip of my drink and realize—this doesn’t feel like some random encounter. Somehow, it feels like I’ve known this man forever. Despite being intimidated by him earlier, I feel strangely comfortable talking to him. Like we’re old friends who have never met.

Not to mention the way my body pulls toward him. Like gravity, like fate. All of the sudden, no matter how I try to stop it, I start picturing what it would be like to be with a man like this. For a long time. Easy conversation in the kitchen while while we make dinner together.

Our kid could have those gorgeous, deep blue eyes—oh God. I’ve got to stop doing this. I heave a sigh.

Jackson notices my expression, his brows lifting. “What?”

I blink, caught. “Oh, just…do you believe in past lives?”

He lets out a low laugh. “Wow. Really jumping in the deep end here.” He considers for a second. “The jury’s still out for me. You?”

I nod. “I do.”

“Why are you thinking about past lives?”

I hesitate, then just smile. “Oh, no reason.”