I narrow my eyes at my grandmother. The woman doesn’t pass up an opportunity to lay on a guilt trip unless she wants something.

“There’s someone special joining us tonight.”

So that’s why I’m off the hook. There’s nothing Grandma likes more than finding eligible young women for me, and I’m sure Cally’s return to town will only make her redouble her efforts.

I look around the table but only see Grandma’s friends.

“She’s in the kitchen, making us a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t you see if she needs any help?”

“Easy on the matchmaking, okay?” I peck Grandma’s leathery cheek and head to the kitchen, pretending I don’t hear my grandmother’s friends whispering, “At least she’s not a Thompson,” as I go.

About once a week, I meet Grandma and her friends for a couple of hours of Texas Hold ’Em. I’m under the impression that other people’s grandmothers get together to do something respectable, like play Bridge and drink tea, but the old ladies in New Hope prefer poker for their nightly games and whiskey in their coffee. When I’m lucky, I get to enjoy the game with ladies whose skills at the table shouldn’t be underestimated. When I’m unlucky, the little biddies use the opportunity to set me up with some unsuspecting great-niece/granddaughter/cousin’s step-granddaughter once removed. It’s only been worse since things didn’t work out with Krystal.

In the kitchen, a tall, jean-clad blonde is filling the coffee carafe with water. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she puts the pot down and holds up her hands. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were going to be here.”

I wave away Meredith’s concern. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m pushing myself on you. I heard your old girlfriend is back in town, and you probably don’t want anything to do with me.”

I cross my arms. “You heard, or she wanted to work for you and you turned her away?”

A rush of pink moves up her neck and blooms in her cheeks. “She told you?”

I shrug. “It came up.”

She dries her hands on a towel and sighs. “I’m not a bitch, you know? But my business means everything to me, and I had to make a hard decision.”

I’m not sure the decision was that difficult, but I can hardly be upset about it. Not when the result puts Cally so close to me. “It’s going to work out after all. She’s renting the apartment above the gallery, and she’ll run her business out of there.”

Her lips form a perfect circle of surprise. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? People will think you approve of what she does.”

My jaw tightens. “What do you mean by that?”

She lifts her chin. “I mean, her mom gave twenty-dollar hand jobs in her massage parlor. Maybe worse. Whether it’s fair or not, people are going to assume like mother, like daughter.”

I have to give Meredith credit for putting it out there like that. Most people tiptoe around the rumors. Regardless— “That’s bullshit.”

“Of course it is.” She frowns. “Total bullshit. But people believe what they believe. It could really hurt the gallery. Just think about it.”

I cross to Grandma’s liquor stash beside the sink and pour myself two fingers of brandy. I shoot half of it back without tasting it. “I’ve thought about it. And my mind’s made up.”

“You’re a good guy. She’s lucky to have you.”

I shake my head. “It’s not like that,” I say, then I toss back the rest of the brandy.

“I promise I had nothing to do with tonight,” she says softly. “In fact, I’m a little embarrassed, but you know how Grandma and her friends go rogue in their matchmaking efforts. When I found out Cally was back, it was obvious why you started blowing me off. I don’t want to be in the way.”

And the Asshole of the Year award goes to me. I drag a hand through my hair. “I didn’t mean to blow you off. I thought we were keeping things casual.” Fuck. I even sound like an asshat.

Her cheeks bloom red again. “This is so embarrassing. I thought…I mean, when we seemed to get along so well.”

Dammit. “I never meant to give you the wrong idea.”

She holds up her hands. “It’s totally my fault. I just hadn’t wanted anything serious and then you….” She shakes her head. “See? Totally embarrassing. But no harm, no foul, right? I mean, we’re on the same page now, and you can carry on with Cally without worrying about me.”

“I’m sorry, Meredith.”

“Don’t be. Please. I owe you the apology.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I’ve been too much of a coward to tell my grandmother you’re not interested, and I just want her off my back for a little bit, you know? I really hope you don’t mind. I promise to tell her soon.”

“So here we are.” I take the carafe and finish preparing the coffee. “I don’t suppose it would help if I told you that you can do better than me?”

Her cheeks flush. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

She’s really pretty, but her red-tinged cheeks only have me comparing her to Cally, which isn’t fair since all I’ve been able to think about for days is the way Cally responded to my touch in the back of that restaurant.

I press the brew button on the machine and pour myself a cup of coffee from the thermos on the counter.

“Grandma just wants great-grandbabies. And you know what? Things not working out between us was good for me.”

“It was?”

“I realized I just need to do it.”

I raise a brow. “Do what, exactly?”

“I’ve decided not to wait on babies,” Meredith says in a rush. “So, even though I’d really like it if we could still be friends, it’s probably good that you won’t be around much. I don’t want my store-bought sperm to get jealous.”

I choke on my coffee. “I’m sorry?”

She pours her own cup of coffee and smiles. “It’s the twenty-first century. I don’t need a husband to start a family. My mom gets it, and when I have the heart to tell her, Grandma will too.”

“Of course, but you’re young.” She’s only a couple of years older than me, maybe twenty-seven. “Why the rush?”

Something like sadness draws down the corners of her eyes. “Sometimes you just know you’re meant for something, and you go after it despite the logic.”

“I can understand that.”

The machine beeps, and we work together preparing a tray of mugs, coffee, cream, sugar, and whiskey. At my waist my phone buzzes a text alert.

“So what about you and Cally?” she asks. “Are you two working things out?”

“It’s complicated.” I pull my phone from my hip and smile when I see Cally’s name on the screen. Maybe she’s decided to stop avoiding me.

“I hope you can work it out,” Meredith says. “She’s a lucky girl.”

I open the text and can only blink at the screen.

Just a week ago, we were at the restaurant and you were touching me under the table.

“Let me guess,” Meredith says. “Mrs. Complicated?”

“You could say that, though I’m not sure our relationship has progressed to anything as official as Mrs. yet.”

“You want more?”

I don’t answer, but the truth must be in my eyes because she snags the phone from my hand and slides it into the pocket of her jeans. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you. If you want more from Miss Complicated, don’t reply.”

I fold my arms. “Isn’t that a little childish?”

She shrugs, flashing me a grin over her shoulder as she strolls back in the dining room to join the card sharks. “Deal me in this hand?”

“Willy, what about you?” Norma calls.

“I’m in,” I say and prepare myself to hand over my pride and my money to a bunch of old ladies.

THIS MORNING is doing a fantastic job reminding me of the reason I stay away from tequila. No, make that three reasons.

1) Lack of moderation. My first shot gave me that fuzzy warmth in the pit of my stomach. The second had me feeling lighter and more carefree. By the third, I was definitely dancing, though I have no idea if anyone turned on any music. And then there were more shots. I just don’t remember how many more.

2) Fuzzy memory. Pretty much everything after the third shot of tequila is fuzzy. A patchwork of unstitched memories—lots of pieces missing, no clear order.

I might have tried to get Asher Logan to sing to me.

3) Impulsiveness. I vaguely remember sending Will a text message…or two? (See reason two.) I’m scared to look and see exactly what I wrote, but I’m pretty sure I have to. Maybe I could lie and say Lizzy and Hanna got ahold of my phone?

I brace myself against the counter and take a tentative sip from my mug of coffee. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I open my text messages and click on Will’s name.

Not just one sent message. Not two. Four. Four drunken, desperate, horny girl text messages. I lower my pounding head to the counter and whimper.

“Feeling good this morning?” I’m hung over, and Lizzy’s voice is bright and perky enough to put the justifiable in justifiable homicide.

I crack open one eyelid and peer at her. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Don’t be bitchy just because you drank too much.” She pulls my phone from my fingers. “Did he ever write back?”

I lift my head. “You knew I was sending those? Jesus, Liz, you’re supposed to have a girl’s back when she’s drunk.”

She snorts. “I did have your back. God, after you told me about the restaurant, I did the only thing a real friend would do. I handed you your phone and tried to get you laid.”

“I told you about the restaurant?”

Maggie and Hanna walk into the kitchen, heading for the coffee. “Sweetie, you told everyone about the restaurant,” Maggie says.

My cheeks fill with heat. I wouldn’t have thought embarrassment was possible with my head pounding this hard. “That is…mortifying.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Hanna says softly. “I mean, you didn’t go into graphic detail about your orgasm or anything.”

My face is on fire. “You’re not helping, Hanna.”

“You did tell us all about your panties, though,” Lizzy says. “Now I want some like that. So f**king hot.”

Asher walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Maggie, pulling her back to his front before whispering something in her ear.

I look at Lizzy and Hanna. “Are they always like that?”

Hanna leans on the breakfast bar and props her chin on her hands, sighing. “They’re even worse when they think no one is looking. We’re all jealous. Liz and I told him he has to find us our own rock stars, but so far, nothing.”

Lizzy frowns at my phone. “I can’t believe he never wrote back. Most guys would have been knocking down the door to take you up on these offers. And this last one?” She whistles low and looks at me with a raised brow. “You are creative, I’ll give you that.” She shows the phone to Hanna, who takes it and cocks her head while reading.

“Wow. That’s… You can actually…? And he never showed up? I wonder if he’s in the hospital somewhere.”

I snatch my phone back, then wince as pain ricochets through my head at the sudden movement.

“More than likely, he knew she was drunk,” Maggie says softly, eyeing me. “Will’s a good guy. He doesn’t take advantage.”

I rub my temples. Last night it became clear to me that Will has a history with both Maggie and her oldest sister, Krystal. Of course, no one wanted to talk about it, but I filed away the information. This is New Hope, after all. If I put my mind to it, I won’t have to go far to find someone who knows the whole story and wants to gab.

“Maggie’s right,” Hanna’s saying. “Call him today, sober, and I’m sure he’ll be all yours.”

“I don’t want him to be mine.”

Lizzy snorts. “Bullshit. The tequila-addled brain doesn’t lie.”

“It’s a bad idea. I’m leaving in a few months—max.”

Maggie is frowning at me, worry lines creasing her forehead.

Hanna puts her hand on my arm. “You were always the one telling us to keep an open mind and an open heart. You were the one convinced that if we just believed, good things would come into our lives. What happened to that girl?”

She sold out for a paycheck. “It’s complicated. Being with Will would only hurt him in the long run.”

“Then leave him alone.” Maggie steps toward me. Asher touches her arm, but Maggie shakes her head and he backs off. “All Will wants in this world is to get married and make a family of his own. He might be attracted to Cally, but if she knows she won’t give him that, she should stay away.”

Hanna and Lizzy are looking at their hands, and Asher’s eyes have gone sad. There’s definitely more to this story than I’ve been told.

“I agree.” My phone buzzes, and I take it back from Hanna to see a text from Drew.

Gabby had nightmares all night and I had to climb in bed with her, and dad made some sort of tofu-nugget sausage for breakfast that smells like roadkill. If you come home without an Asher Logan autograph on your boob, you are no longer my sister.