Winning With Him (Men of Summer #2) by Lauren Blakely

I study the menu intently, mostly so no one will talk to me.

A minute later, the owner-slash-bartender stands in front of me with a smile, his inked arms flexing as he plants his palms on the bar. “You just can’t stay away from The Lazy Hammock, can you? This is your fourth visit in a week, Grant, with and without company. Since you’re alone this time, does that mean tomorrow you’ll be here with Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome?”

He seems wildly amused by my presence, but when I heave a sigh, wincing at the mention of my ex, River is immediately sympathetic.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” He sets a friendly hand on my forearm. “I put my foot in my mouth, hun.”

There’s a hollow pounding in my ribs, the residual drumbeat of being dumped. “Is it that obvious?”

He frowns and gestures to my face. “Your eyes give it away. Do you need something strong? Stronger? Or strongest?”

I clench my jaw, hold back . . . fuck . . . I will not cry.

No way. No effing way.

Declan is just a guy.

Last time I cried was over my parents, something they said eight years ago. I’m not going to lose a single tear over a dude.

“Just a . . .” I’m about to say Diet Coke. But that’s what I had every time I was here with him. I can’t order the same. “A whiskey.”

River gives an approving nod. “Something strongest, then. Whiskey is the best for a broken heart.”

Sounds about right. “Then bring it on.”

With a practiced efficiency and zero theatrics, he pours from the bottle and sets the tumbler in front of me. “Need to talk? I’m guessing you’re here for a willing ear and not to pick up guys.” He lifts a finger. “But if you are, more power to you. There’s nothing wrong with that. Some men swear the fastest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

Might be true for some, but I’ve less than zero interest, and I shake my head. “I’m not here to pick anyone up.”

“Ah. It’s that kind of breakup, then. The full bartender session kind.” River glances over to where another guy in a Hawaiian shirt is helping a bearded patron. “Rain is working tonight, so I can chat with you for a bit.”

A laugh bursts out, unbidden. “Rain? Is he your long-lost brother?”

River casts a glance at the other man, whose pale complexion is a contrast to River’s California sunshine skin. “You never know. Anyway, his name is brill, isn’t it? He has the good fortune to have a hippie mama too, like me.” But then, River parks his elbows on the bar, all ears and all sympathy. “So, spill. What happened to Mr. Tall, Dark and Stupid? Because any man who would let you go is stupid. You’re a catch.”

“And you’re a good bartender for saying so.”

He waves away the compliment. “Nah. I’m a good bartender for picking the perfect drink for a person’s mood and because I can read people. And I can tell you’re a good guy. You were funny and outgoing when you were here. Ergo, you’re a catch. Which means . . . he’s a cad.”

Is Declan a cad?

I don’t think so, but could our fling have been just sex to him? Nothing but wham, bam, see you later, dude? Was I an extended hookup?

Except . . . the asshole asked me to be his boyfriend. He practically begged me to do the long-distance thing with him.

Then he tossed me out with the garbage.

I don’t get it. Not at all.

“Maybe he is a cad.” I lift my whiskey and knock some back, savoring the burn. Funny, but Declan never told me why he doesn’t drink. He never went into much detail about his family, just said his dad left, and he sometimes wanted to escape. Maybe he doesn’t touch the stuff because of his father. Who knows? Chalk up another mystery surrounding Declan Steele.

“I don’t really know why he ended it, except he went to work in another state,” I tell River, keeping it vague in case anyone overhears.

The bartender nods, catching on, and lowers his voice too. “I haven’t told a soul you guys had a thing. Not my place.”

“I didn’t assume you would,” I say a little defensively. “I was just being private about my . . .”

Love life.

But those words die on my tongue. My love life is over.

River doesn’t seem offended, only sympathetic. “I didn’t think you were accusing me. What I said is a simple fact—I like to talk. Sometimes about me. But I know the score. I love baseball, and I could name all the out athletes. You and the company you keep, though—that will stay between us.”

A faint smile tugs at my lips, but it fades quickly. “Thanks. Sorry I overreacted.” I swallow more of the drink. It burns hotter this time.

“So, where were we? Mr. Tall, Dark and Stupider broke up with you?”

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess so. All I got was this text.” I grab my new phone from my back pocket and show the message to River.

“A text?” He reads it and, with a dramatic hiss, recoils from the phone like it’s infected. Hell, it feels like it is. “Ouch.”

“I don’t even know if this is unusual,” I confess, glancing at words I’ve already memorized. “I haven’t really dated much. Is this normal?”

River sighs heavily, then nods. “Yes and no. It happens to everyone, no matter their orientation. Just recently, some jackass sent my sister, Echo, a breakup text after they went out for a month.” He growls, and that snarl is at odds with his usual laid-back vibe. “I had half a mind to hightail it up to California and tell him what I thought of him. But Echo can take care of herself. She’s fierce. Still, it’s shitty no matter who it happens to.” River scratches his jaw, seeming lost in thought. “It’s weird, though, what happened to you.”