Three Brothers by Nicole Williams

Author:Nicole Williams [Williams, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Three Brothers
Amazon: B00SGTMSZ2
Barnesnoble: B00SGTMSZ2
Goodreads: 24234838
Publisher: Nicole Williams
Published: 2015-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

I’D STARTED THE night hoping Chance wouldn’t think of tonight as a date . . . and I’d gotten my wish. After what had been said and implied, I’d changed my mind about the whole date thing, but Chance had not.

He’d gone from trying to ignore me outside to succeeding once we’d passed through the rusty metal doors of Wild Bill’s. The place hadn’t changed—it seemed frozen in time. From the hay scattered across the dance floor to the old jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked as long as we’d been going there to the same chalkboard hanging over the bar offering the same drinks, stepping into that place was like traveling back in time. I even recognized a handful of the same employees.

The cover band was playing some old George Strait song, and more people were dancing than those who weren’t. Along with the music, the place was buzzing with the noise and energy of people laughing and hooting, cheering and clapping. I wanted to be out on the dance floor so badly I hadn’t realized the heel of my boot was tapping—for long enough that my heel was numb.

When I glanced across the round stand-up table at him, Chance was looking into the dancing crowd, seeing something else. Taking into consideration what he’d just confessed to me and the way his brows were pinched together, he was probably imagining my dead body at the scene of some intersection . . . or being pulled from the river . . . or after a grizzly attack . . . or after taking a spill over Hangman’s Ridge. The longer the silence between us went on, the more possibilities for how I could die in nature presented themselves. Dying outside seemed way better than dying tied up in some psychopath’s dank basement, but then I started considering things like quicksand and being stung to death. I came to the conclusion that no option was better than another when it came to premature death.

“This place hasn’t changed at all,” I said, hoping to pull Chance out of his head long enough to have a conversation or, God forbid, a dance with me. When his eyes stayed forward, his face pinched with the same troubled lines, I added under my breath, “Unlike some things . . .”

We’d been at that table for fifteen minutes, and all Chance had said was hello to the few people who’d said hey to him. He hadn’t even wandered up to the bar to order us a couple beers. His dark mood had set in and strangled everything else, including the gentleman, inside him.

The night might not have been going how I’d thought or hoped, but there was one thing I could control, and that was having a beer in my hand. I needed a beer. I was just about to start toward the bar when the statue of Chance Armstrong cracked. Just a bit, but it was enough for me to release the breath I’d been holding.

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