even tossed her hair straightener in the trash, because she was never going back to being the woman who spent an hour taming her curls every day because she thought she had to.
Cora was going to be herself, unfiltered and unrestrained. Frizzy hair and all.
She hit the turn signal and slowly eased herself off the highway and onto the main road into Patterson’s Bluff. Where would she even go? She had no hotel booked, though it was outside peak season and she was confident she could find a room at one of the various quaint places around town. But there was something about coming here with nothing concrete waiting for her that sent a thrill down her spine.
She was free to make her own decisions.
The car puttered along the main drag, and slowly Patterson’s Bluff bloomed before her. It was Saturday afternoon and the street was bustling—the weather was balmy and mild, marshmallow clouds dotting a vibrant blue sky. She pulled up in front of the White Crest pub and killed the engine of her rental car.
Biting down on her lip, she grabbed her cross-body bag and slung it over her jeans and white T-shirt. She wore no makeup, and her suitcase was jammed into the trunk of the rental car. But Lord, did she need a break from driving. Inside, the pub was exactly as she remembered it—white paint and pale wood and those funky Edison bulbs they seemed to love in the eateries here.
She scanned the room, clutching at her bag. Some silly part of her had hoped she might find Trent there, sitting at the bar and nursing a beer. Maybe looking a little lost and sad because he was missing her.
“For all you know, he’s moved right on to someone else,” she muttered. After all, a man like Trent would make any woman happy, so perhaps he’d found someone smarter than Cora who wasn’t about to walk away so easily.
She walked up to the bar, noting the curious stares of some of the patrons. They knew she wasn’t from around here.
The bartender approached Cora. “Can I get you anything?”
“A pint of pale ale, please. Whatever is on tap.” She smiled and settled into her position at the bar, dragging a book out of her bag and letting herself get lost in the story.
She hadn’t quite figured out how she was going to contact Trent—she could call him. Maybe she should. Was it weird to show up in his hometown unannounced? Would that seem a bit…stalkerish? What if he didn’t want to see her?
There was a tug of the old in her worries. Old Cora, who’d be insecure about Trent’s feelings toward her, was rearing her ugly head. But she had no place here anymore. Cora had changed, and New Cora wasn’t going to let fear dictate her actions. She would find Trent, tell him how she felt, and see where it went.
As if conjured by her deepest desires, the very man in question walked through the pub’s door. He wore a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly, denim faded in patches where the fabric stretched across his muscular thighs. He had on a black T-shirt and work boots, and his face was covered in scruff like he hadn’t shaved in a while.
Her heart thudded, bumping against her rib cage as she watched him, desperate desire filtering through her body. Only this time the wanting wasn’t just about his rock-hard body and panty-melting smile. It was about everything, the whole package.
His life, his twinkling eyes, his giant, golden heart.
The second his eyes landed on hers, he blinked. Then shook his head. Then blinked again. His confusion was adorable, and her heart swelled in her chest.
“A wise man once told me if I was ever looking for anybody in town, I should come here,” she said.
“Could you introduce me to this wise man?” he asked with a subtle lift of his lips. “I could do with some wisdom.”
“Maybe I can help,” she said softly. “Can I buy you a beer?”
He climbed onto the stool next to her, the scent of him twisting and turning inside her like a drug. He smelled like earth and the ocean and eucalyptus and man. He had dirt under his fingernails and his hair was askew, like he’d been working. Dust and mud caked his boots, and his skin was golden tan as ever. The T-shirt hugged his shoulders and biceps, outlining each and every muscle to fantasy-level perfection.