Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(4)

Someone’s grabbing me, pulling me back. “Just give it a chance.” Britt whispers. She tugs me along with her.

Jasmine orders a round while Britt leads us to an empty table.

“Sit,” she orders. “Close your eyes and take a deep breath.” I do as she says, taking in the scent of wood, perfume, cologne, and beer. When I open my eyes, she’s watching me.

“You made it.” Her chin tilts up, pride shines in her eyes.

“To where? Here?” I tap one finger on the table. I know what she’s getting at, but I don’t want the accolade.

Jasmine returns, her arms full of drinks, and sets them on the table. Britt grabs a bottle for me and a bottle for her.

“You made it through the first two weeks. It’ll only get easier from here.” She gently knocks the top of her bottle to mine.

I drink with her. “You’re not exactly an expert.”

She shrugs. “I have eyes. I’ve seen it enough times to know.”

A twirl of yellow behind Britt’s head catches my attention. I lean left so I can follow the movement of the yellow dress, and the woman it’s attached to, on the dance floor. She’s as affixed to the man with her as the clingy dress is to her. The music is up-tempo, but they dance slowly, swaying to their own song. In my head I hear something old and sultry, maybe Etta James. My cheeks heat just watching them, the way their bodies mold against one another. I look away, feeling like an intruder despite the fact that they’re in a public place.

Britt’s upper half swivels, and she watches them too. When she turns back to me, her eyes light up, mischievous.

“You know what you need?” She smiles around the mouth of her beer bottle.

“Nope.” My lips make a popping sound as I enunciate the p. I know what she’s thinking, and it’s not going to happen.

“Ohhhh, yes, you do.” She lifts a solitary finger. “One night. No strings attached.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“Stop.” She holds up a hand. “Just stop. You’re heartbroken.” Her hand moves to her chest. “Owen let go of the best person I know. Forget about him tonight. Forget about everything. Please?”

Her blue eyes plead, and I know what she’s really asking of me. She wants me to stop lingering in that place, the one where my thoughts grow maudlin. She wants me to stop before I begin to compare Owen’s departure to that of my mother. She’s asking me not to do what I’ve already done.

I’m so flawed they couldn’t stay.

I’m the atrocity.

It’s my fault they’ve left.



I love Britt. I really do. I love her so much I don’t blame her when a cowboy with a big, shiny buckle and an even bigger hat comes to our table and sweeps her off her feet.

His name is Dane.

Or Dax.

Or…something that starts with D.

The point is, Britt’s gone.

It doesn’t take long before the other girls I’m with have caught the eyes of other wannabe cowboys and left the table. They all offered the requisite Are you sure? before walking away, and I reassured them it was fine. I like being alone, and I happen to be really good at it.

My fingers are slick with condensation as I peel the wrapper off my beer and rub the wet paper into a tiny, hard ball. I flick the small wad and watch it roll across the table and onto the floor.

The slow-dancing couple from earlier is back on the dance floor, but now they’re moving to the tempo. Even though they’re moving appropriately this time, there’s something different about them. Some kind of sensuality. Maybe it’s magic. Or chemistry. Whatever it is, they have it.

I push the bottle to the middle of the table. Time for me to leave. I may like to be alone, but I don’t care for torture. I stand, grab my purse from the table, and spin.

I take a step away from the table and bump into something. Or, rather, someone.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” My sentence hangs unfinished as I look at the person I’ve run into.

I must have a thing for smiles, because that’s what grabs me first. The left side of his mouth pulls up more than the right. It’s a happy grin. Immediately I picture a light shining from somewhere inside him. An inherent, ambient light.

He extends one long, deeply tanned arm. “No worries. I’m Isaac.” The smile doesn’t waver.

I place my hand in his. “I’m Aubrey.” Am I smiling? My face feels numb. My whole body feels numb. God, I hope I’m smiling. That’s what a normal person would do.

“Nice to meet you, Aubrey.” He nods when he says my name. “I hope you aren’t leaving. I was just coming over here to offer you one of these.” He lifts his left hand to show fingers intertwined around the necks of two beer bottles.

My lips twist. A few miles away my bed is calling my name. “Actually, I was heading out.”

Isaac’s frown is partly a pout, which accentuates the fullness of his lower lip. “Can I convince you to change your mind? It would be a terrible waste of good beer to let it get warm.” He holds one bottle out to me, eyebrows raised. “This beer needs to fulfill its destiny.” He moves the bottle a fraction, so it swings gently side to side.

I eye his hopeful face. I was headed home. To my TV. And ice cream. In my head I see Britt’s stern look, and it makes me wonder if she’s staring me down from the dance floor behind me.