Page 42 of The Ex Next Door (Charming, Texas #8)

“It is…except that you have to believe it.” She tapped him gently on the chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, though he refrained from explaining that things didn’t work that way. Not when it came to love and attraction, and especially with Gabby.

Chip was so deep in the friend zone that he couldn’t discern where the end of it was.

The line was smudged and unrecognizable.

The Espiritus had moved into town over a decade ago, but he’d only gotten to know her through her on-again-and-hopefully-never-again relationship with Nathan that had spanned a couple of years.

Which, by all best-friend rules, had rendered Gabby off-limits.

Chip and Gabby’s friendship fully blossomed a year ago, when she’d started frequenting Mountain Rush, a bar where Chip worked part-time. He attributed their bonding to his bartender role, which automatically qualified him to be a therapist, with everyone telling him their business.

Bartenders and kindergarten teachers—they knew everything.

“I’d better go, though,” Chip reminded Daria and pointed to the screen of his phone, grateful for an excuse to exit. Daria was lovely; the reminder that he was single, on the other hand, was not. “I’ve got a shift.”

“You don’t even need a job,” George grumbled from across the room.

“I like working, Dad.” He heaved a breath. “And that’s my cue to go.” Bending down, he pressed his cheek against Daria’s and somehow pried himself from her without another well-meaning piece of advice. “I’ll see you soon?”

“I hope so.” She patted him on the cheek, a gesture that made his heart ache. Not out of sadness, but gratitude.

Even if he was in the friend zone, perpetually in the single zone and always in the background, he wasn’t quite alone.

Once outside, Chip was greeted by the cool spring air, and his optimism rose. Winter had been mild this year, and he loved the chill against his skin. It was just enough to wake him up, and allowed him to switch his thoughts to the next activity at hand.

Even if Gabby wasn’t into him, she was still waiting for him at Mountain Rush, for a reason he would soon find out.

Right now, that was more than enough.

* * *

Gabriella Espiritu paced the back wall of Mountain Rush while keeping an eye on the front entrance, waiting for reinforcements to walk in.

But they were taking forever.

“This must be a really important email for you to want to open it up here,” Liza Wilcox called from the bar, gesturing to the laptop sitting on one of the high-top round tables. She was the bar’s newest supervisor, and was drying glasses while multitasking and serving the sleepy, late-lunch crowd.

“It is. I took my first CPA test last week and—” she swallowed as the jitters crept up her throat “—the results are up. I got a notification on the way home from a client’s house and thought, why not stop in?”

“And you always carry your laptop with you?”

“Absolutely. It’s a wedding planner’s best friend.

Anyway, celebrating here feels right.” This karaoke bar had become a place of respite; she could get lost in the chatter and in the music.

Plus, her best friend and favorite bartender, Chip, worked here.

Truth be told, as soon as she was notified that her test results were up, she all but sped to Mountain Rush.

To share the news with her friends, yes, but especially with Chip, who’d been with her at every step of her journey to achieve her CPA degree.

Liza frowned. “So you’re more than a wedding planner?”

“Yep. I just finished school.” In saying it aloud, she felt a surge of pride.

When she’d decided to pursue her accounting certificate in order to help manage the books at the Spirit of the Shenandoah B she wanted to see how much more productive or creative she could be.

“Better you than me.” Liza looked over her shoulder to the front door creaking open.

Light spilled over the dim threshold, and her three best friends walked in.

Game on.

Bailey Jenkins was the first to reach her.

Of Irish descent, he was blond with fair skin, though currently sported dark half moons under his eyes.

A radiology tech who worked third shift, and who was certified in preparing patients for ultrasounds, MRIs, and any other test one could think of, he rarely saw the midday sun.

“This better be good.” His voice was a croak, though he greeted her with their customary elaborate fist bump that they’d practiced over the course of two whole days. At the end of it, they were both laughing.

“It is. My exam results are in,” Gabby said.

Willa Johnson bowled her over with a hug. A striking Black woman, she exuded a bohemian vibe and wore long braids. She was an herbalist and entrepreneur that specialized in natural skin care. “It’s going to be fine,” she whispered in Gabby’s ear.

“Oh, I know it is.” She stepped back with a grin, though her body tingled with nerves.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Over Willa’s shoulder came the standard high five of Chip, who was not only a bartender, but also a serial entrepreneur and a whiz with investments.

Besides owning several short-term rentals, he was renovating the senior center, and contributed widely to local fundraisers to revitalize Peak.

His floppy light brown hair and relaxed smile, however, gave a different impression.

At first glance, one could underestimate his ambition.

But Chip had an inner motor, driven by this idea that he could make things better.

Around him, Gabby felt light as a feather because he was so capable and solid.

“Let’s get this over with so that we can celebrate,” he said.

She nodded. Yep, Gabby was surrounded by excellence, and passing this test would get her one step closer to it.

She woke her laptop to display her inbox. Next to her, Bailey whistled. “That’s a lot of emails from Jared and Matilda.”

“ T minus twenty-two days to the biggest wedding of the year.” She smiled, then clicked on the email from the licensing board.

If she had advice for anyone who wanted to be a wedding planner, it was this: don’t plan weddings for any of your siblings. Just say no, even if wedding planning was one’s passion.

The selfish fact of the matter was that the planner would not be able to enjoy their siblings’ wedding, not in a way that they wanted to.

For example: Gabby hadn’t been able to savor the dress fitting experience with her future sister-in-law, Matilda, because she’d been dealing with a florist emergency for another event.

Gabby clicked the link in her email and it sent her to a log-in page. As she entered her password, her tummy swirled. “I’m nervous.”

“We’re here,” Willa said.

Bailey pulled at the neckline of his shirt. “This is stressful. I remember doing this for my boards, though I was alone. I almost passed out because I held my breath.”

After she pressed Enter, the licensing office dashboard loaded onto the screen. In the middle of the page, in bold blue, was the name of the test. Next to it was another button named Results.

Struck by a sudden jolt of trepidation, Gabby recoiled and stepped back from the laptop. “Wait. I can’t.”

“C’mon, Gabby.” Chip grabbed her attention with the flirtatious tone of his voice. He shook out his body like he was getting ready for a fight. “Let it go.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Chip was mimicking a relaxation technique taught to them by one of her mother’s friends at Christmastime, when Eva Espiritu had been in the middle of a heartbreak.

At the time, it had been helpful, even if half of them had laughed.

Which may have been the point.

But in front of strangers? “What? No.”

“This whole bar, we’re your family. Are we not, Mountain Rush?” he asked, raising his voice, and snagging the attention of others nearby. Some faces looked up and cheered belatedly. “See? You know you’ll feel better. Shut your eyes. Shake it out. You know you want to.”

Gabby fought a giggle. Chip was…cheesy, but also quite convincing in his own way, and she found herself wiggling a little. To her relief, Willa and Bailey were participating in this silly ritual.

“You’ve worked hard, Gabby. Studied all year,” Chip said, with his eyes shut.

“Two years,” she corrected.

“Two years. And you earned this.”

“I feel like I’m in church,” Bailey whispered.

“Or some séance,” Willa added.

“Hush!” Chip demanded, then opened one eye. “All those nights poring over your notes. Eating all the dessert.” He kept shaking. “We’ve got your back.”

Gabby inhaled, and exhaled. She found solace in Chip’s conviction. “Minimum seventy-five percent.”

“Seventy-five percent.” Willa shook a hand in the air.

“Seventy-five percent.” Bailey took Gabby by the shoulders and led her to the computer.

“Go on. We believe in you.” Chip rested his hand on her lower back, to urge her to click.

Something inside her stirred. It was fleeting, and for a beat, sent her heart rocketing to her throat.

She turned to Chip and stared at his familiar gray eyes. He stood half a foot taller than her, and was solid, and strong.