Best of My Love (Fool's Gold, #20)

“What was the question?” he asked.

The smile returned. “Why tourists? You’re a good-looking guy with a successful business. Why aren’t you married?”

“I don’t want to get stuck,” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Is this a job interview?”

“No. I don’t mean to be intrusive.”

“But you’re going to keep asking questions?”

“Something like that. Stuck how?”

He finished his coffee. Before he could think about standing up to get another, Patience, the owner of Brew-haha, and about forty-seven months pregnant, waddled over with a pot.

“You look awful,” she said cheerfully. “Still hungover?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s not like you. I can’t remember the last time you got drunk.”

Aidan didn’t bother responding. There was no point. He and Patience had known each other their whole lives. One of the advantages—and disadvantages—of living in Fool’s Gold. There weren’t a lot of secrets. Which meant everyone from here to the Nicholson Ranch would soon know exactly what had happened last night.

Shelby frowned at her friend. “Why are you working? You’re due any second.”

“I know.” Patience rested her left hand on her incredibly large belly. “I’m so ready for him to be born. I thought maybe standing on my feet for a few hours would hurry things along. I’m not sleeping, so why make someone else get up early on New Year’s Day?”

Another nice woman, Aidan thought grimly. They were everywhere. He shouldn’t even be looking at her, let alone having a conversation.

“Want some aspirin?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

Patience grinned at Shelby. “I don’t believe that, do you?”

“Not for a second, but it’s fun to let him pretend.”

They were mocking him. He was about to protest that he was sitting right there when he remembered that he deserved it. That and more.

Patience finished refilling his mug and then walked back to the counter. Before Aidan could refocus, Shelby leaned toward him.

“How would being married make you stuck?” she repeated.

She wasn’t going away. He got that. So fine. He would tell her the truth. “If you love someone, you’re stuck. You have to do things you don’t want to do.”

“You’re not talking about going to restaurants you don’t like, or taking out the trash, are you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” She studied him. “So the tourists were a way to stay safe.” The smile returned. “And get laid. A twofer.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Because it makes you a jerk?”

He thought about what had happened the previous night. “What did you hear? About the woman?”

“This and that. Tell me your version.”

He wasn’t sure if she’d been sent to make sure he got that he deserved to be punished or if this was just one of those happy accidents. Either way, he was going to spill his guts and let fate take care of the rest.

“I was hanging out at The Man Cave for their New Year’s Eve party. With friends.” He’d been drinking beer...at least at first. A hangover hadn’t been part of his master plan.

“This woman walked up to me.”

“Did you recognize her?”

“Of course.” Sort of. “I knew we’d probably hung out over the summer.”

“Hung out being a euphemism for had sex?”

He winced. “You’re a lot less delicate than you look.”

“Thank you. So she said hi, and...?”

Aidan sighed. “She didn’t say hi. She walked up to me and said she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me. That the week we’d had together had changed her. She was hoping I felt the same way because she wanted to quit her job and move to Fool’s Gold to be with me.”

Shelby waited. He was pretty sure she knew the punch line to the joke that was his life, but hey, he could say it. In fact, saying it out loud was probably a good thing. Or at the very least, well deserved.

“It wasn’t a week,” he said firmly. “If it had been a week, I would have remembered.”

“Her?”

He cleared his throat. “Her name. I couldn’t remember her name. Or when she’d been here. She got that right away. She got mad and started yelling.”

The bar had gone quiet as the scorned woman had called him everything from a rat bastard to a male whore. He’d taken it because he honest to God couldn’t remember her name. He’d spent at least a couple of days with her, had talked to her, laughed with her, had sex with her and walked away without being able to remember who she was.

Which made him everything she’d called him and worse. He didn’t mind that he had had a lot of women in his life, but to not remember their names—that was bad. It was the hookup equivalent of a drunk waking up in a gutter with no recollection of how he’d got there. She was his rock bottom. Not that she would appreciate the fact, unless she could also bury him under said rocks.