"Chase," she repeats, carefully pointing behind me. "Chase is here."
Immediately my stomach flutters and not in a way it should. My skin heats and my heart beats heavily in my chest. So much so, I feel the reaction at the base of my throat.
Noticing I've lost my ability to speak, Kate adds with sarcasm, "Right. Yes, clearly Myles is the one for you."
In my defense, I tell her, "You don't know what you're talking about."
Leaning toward me, she rests her palms on the table and whispers, "Honey, we just talked about your wedding, an act that has you vowing to one man forever, yet all I had to do was tell you Chase was in the same room and you look like you're ready to faint."
"I'm not."
"Swoon, then." She points at me. "This is you swooning."
"Stop," I hiss. "Enough."
Sitting back in her chair, she purses her lips before promising, "I'll say nothing more."
"Thank you," I breathe. "Where is he?" I hate that I've asked, but regardless, I want to know and don't want to appear obvious by looking around to find him.
Kate attempts to maintain casual as she flips through the screens on her phone while telling me, "He's sitting at a table in front of the bar. His back is to the wall and he's looking right at us."
Shit.
"Goodness," Kate breathes, allowing herself to focus beyond my shoulder. "The man is just sex." Her voice rises when she adds, "There's no other way to describe him. All sex."
Resting my elbows on the table and hiding my face in my hands, I snap, "Keep your voice down."
Sensing my stress, she stretches her arm across the table and gently grasps my hand. At first I think it's a gesture for comfort, but find I'm wrong as she states, "Honey, tell me you don't see yourself under him every time he uses those big hands to wipe the sweat from his brow. Good God, you'd have to be dead inside not to picture yourself with him."
Please, for the love of all that's good, make her stop talking.
"I don't think of him like that."
"Lies." She smiles before taking a drink of her beer. Stating simply, she adds, "My friend, I believe you've picked the wrong brother."
Gasping in shock, I return, "You didn't just say that."
"I did," she replies. "Seriously. Myles is hot, but Chase is hawt."
Feeling the flush in my face, I attempt to distract her with a question. "Do you remember how much Chase hated me when we were growing up?"
"He never hated you. He ignored you, but I don't think you get why he did, Ry."
"You're nuts," I counter.
Seemingly happy with herself, she informs me, "He looks good. He's definitely aging nicely."
"Oh, God," I reply.
"Tall. Broody. Tan. Hawt," she observes next.
"I haven't seen him since Myles and I came back," I explain. "And I don't know if anyone's told him we're getting married."
"If he doesn't already know, he's about to find out, because he's on his way over here now."
Crap.
Chapter Two
CHASE
Son of a bitch.
I came to Bears, the only bar around here, to relax; to unwind after hearing our small town's breaking news.
My spoiled, self-centered, sorry-ass, cheating little brother is getting married.
That's not what the piss of this is, though. I could handle him taking a woman and making her his. What I'm having trouble accepting is the one he's chosen to take.
He's marrying her. Ryleigh Davis.
The town darling.
The sweetest girl ever to grace its population and the only woman in this godforsaken place I've ever truly admired and respected.
"Kate." I nod, greeting her best friend first, then walking around the table before turning my gaze to a frozen-in-her-spot-and-avoiding-me-like-hell Ryleigh.
Kate clears her throat. "Hi, Chase." Her focus moves to her best friend, who's still refusing to look at me, and her eyes widen.
I haven't seen Ryleigh in over a year. Right before she and Myles left for college, I had made every effort to avoid her completely.
They'd come home for breaks every so often, and once I had the heads-up they were en route, I'd disappear. Most of the time I'd head to my aunt's farm in Texas and spend time with my cousin, Todd, who's about my age.
I couldn't stick around. There was too much history with Ry and me that I refused to let myself think about.
As a kid, Ry was sweet. She used to follow me around the farm and talk out loud to every animal we fed as if the thing understood every word she was saying. And she did all this without even knowing how ridiculous she looked.
With her long, unruly, curly blonde hair and those big, bright blue eyes, she coaxed me into talking about anything that came to her young mind. Cartoons, Barbies, her parents; for her, nothing was too small to dissect and debate.