Can't Fight This Feeling. Christie Ridgway

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Can't Fight This Feeling - Christie  Ridgway


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adjourned. Vaughn walked her and Glory to their cars. “I still think the members would like to hear from the auction winners,” he said, sounding a bit peeved. “Ruth is too worried about keeping that list sacrosanct. Any way you can get your hands on it?”

      “Nope,” Glory answered, digging through her purse. “I think only the executive board or maybe just the president has access.”

      Angelica didn’t say that she, actually, did know the password to all the files and thus had access. When updating the member roster, she’d noticed the other list was in the same directory.

      Vaughn wandered off to his own car, a pricey SUV that looked like an overmuscled panther. Angelica frowned at her little convertible, wondering if she could trade it for something more practical for winter in the mountains and if doing so would require any cash outlay.

      “Ready?” Glory said. “We agreed on Mr. Frank’s, right?”

      “That was your idea. I told you I wasn’t sure.”

      “C’mon,” Glory cajoled. “It’s ladies’ night. The drinks are really cheap.”

      “I don’t know. In my mood I might get sloppy drunk and make a fool of myself.”

      “No, you won’t.” Glory snatched Angelica’s purse from her hand and fished out her keys, too. “Because you have a higher purpose.”

      “What’s that?” She eyed her friend. “Tonight, getting sloppy drunk might be the higher purpose.”

      Glory grabbed Angelica’s hand and slapped her keys into her palm. “What did I already tell you? Once you get more acquainted with people, who knows what might come up?”

      Angelica had to admit it was at least some kind of plan. She had a life to form for herself. Hunkering down in her room at the Bluebird with its clunky television and four available channels was no way to network. So, on a sigh, she turned to her car and, once behind the wheel, followed Glory to the restaurant they’d agreed upon, just outside of the village of Blue Arrow Lake.

      “This is a locals’ hangout,” Glory said as they approached the door of Mr. Frank’s. “Red vinyl booths, bar straight out of the 1950s. No blenders on the premises...so you have to take your hard booze on the rocks or not at all. No trendy cocktail orders. Got it?”

      Angelica held open the heavily carved door for her friend. “I’ll resist my urge to ask for a mango-kale daiquiri.”

      “Still,” Glory said, taking her by the arm to lead her toward the dimly lit but clearly crowded lounge, “it’s very popular on ladies’ night. Everybody will be here... We’ll make sure you meet at least some of them.”

      They found stools on the short end of the L-shaped bar. A heavyset man in white shirtsleeves and a red vest slapped napkin squares in front of them. He glared at Glory. “I remember what you asked for last time and the answer is still no. I won’t make anything with the ridiculous name of—of—” His face turned red and he broke off. “You’re getting a beer.”

      She winked at Angelica and leaned close to whisper. “I invent names of drinks just to embarrass him—last time it was ‘climax on a cloud.’ He’s an old friend of my dad’s.”

      “You?” the bartender growled at Angelica.

      She folded her hands on the bar like a perfect student. “Chardonnay, please.”

      He shot her a glance of approval before going about fulfilling their orders. “You new around here?” he asked, placing the generous pour in front of her.

      Glory spoke before she could. “This is my friend Angelica Rodriguez. She’s seeking work, if you hear of anyone who needs help. She’s part-time at the store and I can give her a glowing recommendation.”

      He ran an assessing gaze over Angelica. “Has a flatlander look about her.”

      Angelica bit her lip. She knew the word was synonymous with other to the people who lived full-time in the mountains.

      “Yep,” Glory said, waving a hand. “But she’s up the hill now and wants to stay that way.”

      Angelica busied herself with her wine as an excuse not to watch the man’s reaction. Too much was at stake.

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” the bartender said, and she glanced up. He winked at her. “I can pass the word.”

      “Thank you.” Angelica decided she’d leave him a huge tip, no matter the slim state of her wallet. “I appreciate your kindness.”

      He double tapped the bar with the flat of his hand and then turned to obey the summons of another customer. Glory glanced around the crowd, not bothering to pretend she wasn’t checking out the clientele. “Like I said, it’s popular here on ladies’ night.”

      Angelica made a more surreptitious examination. There was warm laughter and a convivial, community feel with people grouped mostly in threes and fives and sixes. Because of that, a couple huddled close in a cozy booth caught her eye. The man was turned from her so she only saw his expertly cut black hair and wide shoulders. All his attention was focused on the slender blonde beside him who was obviously in full-on flirt. A little smile playing on her lips, she was gazing up at him through her lashes.

      The big diamond engagement ring on her left finger flashed in the light from the candle on their table. A sudden pang of envy made Angelica rub at the spot over her heart. She hadn’t lied to Brett. Weddings didn’t make her go spontaneously squishy. Still, looking at those two, so wrapped up in each other...it was lovely. So lovely she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

      Quickly, she looked away, embarrassed by the effect they had on her. Loneliness was to blame, she decided. Uncertainty. The fact that her foundation had swept away from beneath her feet.

      “Ugh,” Glory said, turning from her perusal of the bar to hunch around her beer.

      “What?”

      “My dad’s here.” She grabbed Angelica’s elbow. “Don’t look! He’ll see us and come over.”

      Angelica laughed because she liked Glory’s dad. He was solid and friendly and had never cheated a soul—you knew it by looking at him. “What’s the matter? Does he know you stayed out past curfew last night?”

      “I wish,” Glory grumbled. Her lack of a love life was the subject of much lamenting. “There’s nobody to get naughty with. By the time I was twenty, I’d dated every decent boy in the area. And every smart girl around here knows to keep her distance from flatlanders.”

      “Glory, you didn’t stay away from me,” Angelica pointed out.

      “I know. We just hit it off from the first. But it’s also different because you’re another woman.”

      “Still—”

      “We’ve had this argument before,” her friend said, cutting in. “It comes down to this. Unless a man lives permanently in the mountains, I’m not risking heartbreak by even giving him the time of day. I’m this generation’s face of Hallett Hardware, which means I’ll be behind the register until the day I give the keys to my son or daughter. No sense falling for some dude whose life is a long distance away.”

      Angelica sighed, but could hardly blame her friend for her practical outlook. When her dad had retired, only-child Glory had been given the reins to the store. It was expected she would hold them until she passed them on.

      If Angelica had a place like this where she belonged, among people she’d known all her life, who watched out for her and who’d have her back no matter what—well, she’d be careful not to jeopardize that either by falling for the wrong person.

      That kind of stability was what she wanted. What she’d always wanted. Close family. Trustworthy friends. A place where she could sink her roots deep.

      Glancing over her shoulder, she cast another look at the happy


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