Laughing, I shake my head. “I guarantee you that is not going to happen. No more men for me.”
Her face softens, and her head tips to the side. “Galvin isn’t who you were meant to be with, Cybil, and I think deep down you know that, given some of the things that happened in your relationship,” she says, and my stomach twists because I know she’s right. “It just sucks, because you’ve always thought of him when you’ve imagined your future, but he’s not who you’re supposed to be with. You’ll find your guy when you least expect it.”
I give her the nod I know she’s waiting for, and she shakes her head before spinning on her heel and heading for her car, shouting over her shoulder, “You’ll see! Your Prince Charming is out there waiting for you.”
Laughing, I get into my Bronco and start the engine. I’m not sure about Prince Charming, but I do know I have two weeks ahead of me that are going to push me out of my comfort zone, and that might be just what I need right now.
Chapter 2
CYBIL
Covering my mouth as I yawn, I glance down at my GPS and see I’m only about five minutes from the hotel I booked myself for the night. I drive through a town that looks a lot like the one I grew up in, with cute little shops lining the street, and scan the road on each side. I’m looking for somewhere to stop and get something in my stomach before I go find my bed for the evening.
I pass by a couple of fast-food places but keep going, knowing they probably won’t have anything for me to eat besides french fries, and sadly those crunchy bits of heaven won’t cut it tonight. After turning around at the end of town, I decide to head down one of the busy-looking side roads off the main drag, then spot the sign for a bar and grill off in the distance. Not seeing a space, I pass the restaurant and start scanning the road for a place to park, then sigh in relief when I spot an older woman getting into her car.
I flip on my turn signal and pull down my visor to check my reflection. After rubbing away the dark smudges of mascara under my eyes, I flip the mirror back into place, then watch in disbelief as a huge truck curves around me to angle into the space I’ve been waiting for. Tired, hungry, and now annoyed, I pull forward with my finger hovering over my passenger-window button, ready to roll it down and give the driver a piece of my mind for stealing my spot, but I stop as a man unfolds from the truck.
Boot-covered feet hit the ground first. Long legs encased in denim and a torso covered in a dark-green tee with a long-sleeved plaid over it that fits tight across his abs, muscular chest, and biceps follow. Then him. My breath gets caught in my throat when I get a glimpse of his profile: a strong jaw covered in stubble and a nose straight off a Greek god statue. Which, along with his full lips and dark hair that appears almost black in the light of the setting sun, has me stunned.
When he disappears around the hood of his truck, I shake myself out of my daze and drive forward, reminding myself there are literally millions of good-looking men in the world, including my ex, and most of them are not worth the dirt they kick up with their boots. After driving up and down past the restaurant twice, I finally find a place to park and get out.
I grab my bag off the passenger seat and head inside, trying not to feel awkward when I see that most of the people are here to meet others or are hanging out in groups. Holding my purse close to my hip, I wait in the line that’s formed near the front door, trying to ignore the looks coming my way. With most of the women wearing jeans and T-shirts, I must stand out in my loose cream lace tank, bell-bottomed jeans, wedge heels, floppy hat, and fringed vegan leather bag I designed and hand-stitched each and every detail onto.
When I finally reach the front of the line, I step up to the podium, smiling at the redhead who’s been seating everyone, and blink when she looks over my shoulder without even acknowledging me.
“Hey, Tanner.” A megawatt smile curves her full lips, making her even prettier than she already is. “Are you wanting a table?”
“Yeah, thanks,” a deep voice rumbles behind me, and I turn to look over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes when I see it’s the guy who stole my parking spot earlier. Not that he notices. Like most people today, he’s staring at his phone like it has the answers to life and barely looks up from it when he follows the hostess to a small table.
“Jerk.” I glare at him as the redhead hands him a menu, which he accepts without even a thank-you. Not that she cares—her smile hasn’t faltered once.
“Are you waiting to be seated?”
At that question, I focus on the older gentleman now standing behind the podium.
“Yes.” I force a smile.
“Just one?” He looks down at the laminated table layout in front of him.
“Just one.”
“It looks like it’s going to be about ten more minutes for a table, but you can eat at the bar if you don’t feel like waiting.”
Instead of complaining, like Jade would do if she were here, I let out a breath and nod. “I’ll just do that, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” I head across the room, taking off my hat when I reach the bar. I find an empty seat at the end and climb up onto one of the stools, smiling at the bartender when he starts walking my way. Excited that I’m finally going to get something to eat, I turn to set my bag on the stool next to me, and when I spin around, Tanner—with his broad shoulders and thick hair—is leaning into the bar at my side, holding a ten-dollar bill between his fingers.
“Mason,” he calls out, and the bartender lifts his chin in acknowledgment. “Let me get a Miller.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I bite out, not even attempting to hide my annoyance, and he turns his head my way. When his hazel eyes lock with mine, he blinks. “Am I invisible?”
“Pardon?” He shakes his head, causing a chunk of hair to fall over his brow.
“Am I invisible?” I repeat, ignoring the way my fingers twitch, wanting to push that piece of hair away from his forehead. “I’m just asking because this is the third time you’ve cut me off, so either I’m invisible, or you’re just a jerk.”
“I haven’t cut you off,” he denies, standing to his full height, which means I have to tip my head way, way back to keep our eyes locked.
“You did! You stole my parking spot, you stole my table, and now you’re stealing my bartender.”
“Your bartender?” he repeats, and I narrow my eyes.
“I was here first, so yes. My bartender.”
“I didn’t see you.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
“So I am invisible.” I roll my eyes and grab the menu from the little holder on the bar . . . and get more annoyed when I see it’s nothing but drinks.
“Everything okay here, Tanner?” the bartender asks, handing him the beer he asked for as his gaze pings between the two of us.