Bidding On The Bachelor. Kerri Carpenter
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Carissa strolled up to the bar, noticing the scratched-up wood just waiting to give someone a splinter. She reached under the bar, feeling around for a purse hook, then immediately snatched her hand back. Had she just touched someone’s used wad of gum? Yuck. She shook her head. An establishment with a half-lit, crooked sign above the door outside and a rotting bar with mismatched bar stools that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the nineties was definitely not going to have purse hooks. They probably didn’t even have pinot noir. She slid a glance toward the single-stall bathroom and scrunched her nose. Forget about toilet seat covers. That was probably a mere pipe dream.
“What can I get you?” a burly man with a full Duck Dynasty–worthy beard bellowed from behind the bar.
“Shot of tequila and the local beer on tap.”
He nodded, pulled her beer, poured the shot, but otherwise stayed silent. Carissa didn’t waste any time. “Happy birthday to me,” she said to no one in particular before throwing the shot back. The liquid burned her throat and made her eyes water. She turned her head and let out an exasperated “wowza” just in time to see none other than Jasper Dumont sitting right next to her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Oh.” It was all she could think to say aloud. On the inside, however, there was a whole vocal party happening. No-freaking-way-it’s-your-ex-boyfriend!
No, not just an ex-boyfriend. Jasper Dumont was so much more than a simple ex. With some age and perspective, she realized their one-year relationship was such a short period of time in the grand scheme of life. But damn, that one year had been nothing short of amazing. Making out, dances, football games, making out, skipping school occasionally, making out, one epic prom, passing notes in calculus class, wanton looks by the lockers and even more making out. Well, making out that quickly led to much-less-PG versions of mere kissing.
Now this boy—er, man—whom she hadn’t seen in a decade, but whom, if she was being brutally honest and the tequila was already loosening her up on that score, she’d never stopped thinking about was sitting right next to her. At a dive bar in her hometown.
“Carissa Blackwell,” he said, his voice smooth and cutting. “Pigs must be flying because here you are. Back in Bayside.”
Despite the coldness coming off him in waves, he looked amazing. Same blond hair and striking blue eyes. But that lanky boy she used to kiss under the bleachers was now all filled out with broad shoulders and from what she could see, an impressive chest. She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her beer. More to give herself a moment and to slow down the pulse that Jasper had sent soaring.
“Miracles can happen,” she said, raising her mug of beer in a toast.
“Apparently.” His gaze drank her in from the top of her head over her navy blue tank top and down her capri jeans to the toes that desperately needed a pedicure. Toes that curled as he gave an appreciative nod.
“It’s, um, nice to see you, Jasper.” She pushed her hair over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t expect to find you in a bar like this.”
“Likewise,” he quickly said. “Actually I wouldn’t expect to find you anywhere in the city limits.”
She nodded. She probably should have expected that from him. But what was she supposed to say? The truth? I got divorced. I have no money or career and this was the only place I had to go.
“Touché,” she said instead. “But I’m back in town.”
“For how long?” he asked quickly, too quickly. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, anger laced his question. She must have reacted to it because his features softened. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. And I do remember that today is your birthday. So happy birthday, Carissa.”
“Thanks,” she said, and meant it. She decided to offer an olive branch because the truth was that she’d dumped him and she hadn’t been kind about it. This icy reception she was receiving was well deserved. While she knew the reasons behind her decision, she’d never let Jasper in on it. She’d been a bratty, selfish teenager, not capable of understanding her emotions. Unwilling to admit that Jasper had always reminded her of her father and that summer her dad had dropped a bombshell on her.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. I’m sort of in a transition period right now.” He waited patiently. After another long drink of beer, she finished. “I just got divorced.” Saying the words out loud left an awful taste in her mouth. An acidic aftertaste of yuckiness.
First, shock flashed on his face. Then true concern shone in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.
And that might have been her undoing. Because he had every reason to be stiff and awkward with her. Instead, any kind of compassion from him loosened her lips.
“Today is my twenty-ninth birthday. I’m having a beer next to my ex-boyfriend, who hates my guts, in a dive bar in the town I swore I would never step foot in again. An ex-boyfriend I should really apologize to because I was an evil witch to him.” The words were flying now. She gripped her hand tightly around her glass. “I’m not even thirty and already I’ve been married and divorced. And I got divorced because he freaking cheated on me.”
She couldn’t miss the way Jasper’s eyes narrowed, his hands curled into fists, and there was a definite tic in his clenched jaw. “He cheated on you?”
“Yep. Apparently, the fact that I was homecoming queen, prom queen and head cheerleader did nothing to impress him. Or keep his pants zipped up when anyone wearing a skirt in the Central Time Zone walked by. That probably makes your whole day, doesn’t it?”
He slammed his hand on the bar and she jumped. But she just as quickly composed herself. “What? You have every right to revel in my misery after the way I broke up with you. I got divorced. You win.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to win at that game. And I certainly don’t want to hear that some idiot cheated on you. I’m sorry you’re getting divorced.”
“That makes one of us.” With that she chugged the rest of her beer and let her head drop onto the bar. Then she remembered the threat of splinters and lifted her face back up, the tequila and beer rushing to her head.
“Water over here, please,” Jasper called to the bartender. “Two waters, a basket of mozzarella sticks, and...” He looked to her.
“More alcohol,” she called out weakly.
He chuckled but also reached for her hand. As he squeezed her fingers a jolt of awareness traveled up her arm. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in years. In fact, she’d never felt it with her ex-husband. Not once. Only Jasper made her toes curl, sent electric shocks to the system, and caused her stomach to flip over.
Jasper leaned back. “I don’t want to talk about our past. Not tonight.”
“But you’re still mad.”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t you be?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he said, “I have a better idea. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about our history right now. Instead, let’s call a truce and be friends for the night.”
“Feeling better?”
She turned to Jasper. The fried cheese sticks and water went a long way to making her feel better. So did the friendship, even if it was only temporary. Jasper listened as she mumbled into her breaded mozzarella.
“Much. Thank you.”
He was looking at her with an expression that she couldn’t decipher. “What?” she asked.
“I’m not gonna lie,” he said with total confidence in his voice. “I’ve thought about seeing you