Chapter Three

Colter

Ava lifts her glass of whiskey and Coke to her lips, takes a drink, and sighs.

"You were right. I needed this drink." She giggles.

Her eyes and smile are brighter now, and the tension she carried before seems to have lessened.

"Everything will work out the way it's meant to. No reason to let it stress you out," I mutter, taking a drink of my beer.

"You believe that too?"

I raise my brow at her. "My best friend, Hallyn, gives me shit for believing that there's always a greater meaning to what happens to us. The burnt toast theory."

"The burnt what?"

"It's the mindset that when something bad happens—your alarm doesn't go off and you oversleep, you get a flat tire, or you can't find your keys—it all happens for a reason. It's helped me change my thought process. I try to remind myself that when something unfortunate happens, I'm being redirected and put on the right path. Or maybe it saved you from something worse happening, like avoiding a car accident or getting pulled over. Maybe you end up at the right place and you meet someone you wouldn't have met otherwise had things gone differently."

I lift my chin and shrug. "If your new apartment didn't have water damage, would you be sitting at the bar with the handsome and charming guy who offered you a drink?"

She smirks and holds her hand out, emphasizing the point. "See, who knows? Maybe the last time we would've seen each other would've been on that beach."

I chuckle. I have to admit, she has a point. Although I'd like to think that even if the circumstances hadn't happened, I would've still ended up at her place today to help her move and would've offered to take her out for a drink to celebrate.

There's no doubt I would've wanted to spend time with her again, and I would've found a way to do it.

"So Colter, tell me a little about yourself." She rocks in her seat, moving her leg to cross over the other, and folds her arms in her lap. "I know you're a student at Braysen and I take it you played football with my brother. Where are you from? What are you majoring in? Give me the lowdown."

I chuckled. "Colter Vaughn. Born and raised right here in Braysen. My mom and younger sister, Wyatt, live not far from here. I have a house on the edge of town where I live with three of my teammates. I do play football, offensive lineman. Uhh…" I trail off, trying to think of what else I missed. "Oh, and I'm studying sports medicine." Ava nods, and there's an interesting gleam in her eyes. "What's that look about?"

She shrugs. "It just makes sense is all. You have this protective vibe about you. If you grew up living in a house with women, I guess that would make sense."

"Yeah." I glance down at the table. "My father passed away in eighth grade, not long after my parents divorced. While their separation was sad, you know, they were amicable. They had a lot of love for each other, and my dad still looked after my mom. He'd come over and help with things around the house and make sure we had what we needed when we were with her. He would've wanted me to step in and take care of them in the ways he did when he was still here."

Ava hops down off her stool and wraps her arms around my waist. I lift my arm around her. She barely comes up to my chest with the height difference of me sitting on the barstool, but her small frame slides up next to me.

"What's this for?" I mutter against her temple.

"I'm sorry about your dad."

My chest tightens. "Thank you." My voice cracks.

She pulls away and climbs onto her seat, folding her legs beneath her again.

"It sounds like we both grew up with good parents. Mine was always there for me too. I started dance classes when I was one, and I've been dancing ever since. They pushed me and supported me in following my dreams. They were protective of me, though, too. Almost too protective. My dad especially. They were only that way with me, though, and I never understood why. He gave my brother more rope than they had given me, and for the longest time, I kind of resented him for it. I guess that's why I'm happy to be out of our hometown and have more freedom. Even with the chaos going on right now, I'm still so happy to finally be on my own for the first time, and I'm loving it. Now, if only I could have my place, I'd be set."

It makes sense why she didn't want to call her dad earlier. She could've run to him, but she chose to figure it out. I think that says a lot about her. About the determined and independent woman she wants to be.

"Have you thought about what you're gonna do now?"

She seems to hesitate for a minute and shrugs.

"You don't have to decide right now. How about we play some pool?" I motion toward the corner of the bar, where a pool table and darts are set up.

"Now that I can handle. Let's go!" She hops down again and grabs her drink, weaving through the tables.

I try not to focus on the way her hips move when she walks, her toned legs, and the hint of her tan skin whenever her shirt rides up, revealing her soft skin.

"I'll rack 'em up," she mutters over her shoulder. She grabs the triangle and begins lining up the balls.

"All right, I'll let you break too. Ladies first and all."

She presses her lips together and shakes her head.

"Think we should raise the stakes a little. It could make it more fun."

I set my stick on the ground, crossing one foot in front of the other.

"All right, shoot. What do you want if you win?"

She taps her finger against her chin, appearing to think about it.

"If I win," she says, "you owe me a dance." She nods out to the dance floor and grins. "And the next round is on you."

"All right." I nod. "I got an extra room you can crash in for the week, or until your place is ready. If I win, you'll take me up on my offer."

Her face heats, and I notice the glossy look in her eyes. If I'm not mistaken, it has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with what I suggested.

She exhales a sigh. "Well, I guess you have a deal. I'm in."

When she leans over the table and lines up her cue to fire off her shot, I realize I'm not messing with any first-timer.

"I take it this isn't your first rodeo?" I drawl, and she shakes her head.

"Furthest thing from it." She chuckles. "My brother whooped my ass at pool growing up, and I don't like to lose, most of all to him. We have that whole competitive sibling bond."

I chuckle, remembering the many times I got into it with Wyatt growing up. Although ours was playing basketball in the driveway. The older we got, the harder it became for her, though. I have height on her, but she had a mean three-point shot.

"Stripes," Ava calls and points toward the pocket before she leans over to line up her stick again.

When she slides around the table, she plays it off innocently when she brushes past me, her arm skimming across mine.

Her voice drops low. "Sorry, excuse me."

I press my lips together and clench my jaw. She brushes across the front of my pants. I watch the curve of her ass when she leans over to make her next shot.

"Someone has decided to play with fire tonight." My voice drops, and she flashes her gaze at me over her shoulder, playing coy.

For the next few minutes, I'm forced to stand there and watch as she practically cleans house. She misses after her fifth shot, but it isn't long until I miss and she finishes us off.

"I win. I win." She grins, bowing before she finishes her drink and slams the empty glass on the counter.

I reach for her hand and pull her toward me, earning me a high-pitched yelp.

"Don't tell me you're a sore loser," she whispers when she notices the serious look in my eye.

I shake my head. "Not at all. I'm looking forward to having you pressed against me out on that dance floor. Even if I do have two left feet."

She giggles, and I grab her hand, leading her across the bar, past where we were seated earlier, and out onto the dance floor.

The song changes to "Drunk on Your Love" by Brett Eldredge. The moment we step onto the floor, I tug Ava into my arms, and she comes to me easily.

The dance floor is full, so I stay toward the front, away from most of the crowd. My hand finds her hip, the other folding with mine.

There's a noticeable difference in our height, but she doesn't seem to mind it in the least. After a minute of her not saying anything, though, she tilts her head back and gazes up at me.

"So I know the deal was that if I won, then you owed me a drink and a dance. I'd like to change my prize if you don't mind."

She says, her hair falling out of her face. Her cheeks warm, and I'm not sure if it's because of what she's about to say or from our close proximity.

"You call the shots," I drawl. "What do you have in mind?"

She drags her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You mentioned having a room I could stay in if I needed a place for the night."

I nod, my eyes pausing on her mouth, waiting for what she's about to say.

"The offer still stands."

She smiles. "Okay, I mean, at least for tonight. Right? I trust you, and it would give me some time to figure something out. I could get a hotel, but I'll be honest, I don't have a job yet, so I don't have enough to pay for a week in a hotel. I hadn't exactly prepared for this to happen."

"No, I completely get it. You kind of had this all dropped in your lap, and I'm offering."

"Are you sure your roommates won't mind?"

I shake my head. "It's my place, so they can't exactly fight me on it, but no, they won't mind. Hell, they're hardly home. I doubt they'll even notice."

She presses her lips together and nods, moving her head against my chest.

I hope she doesn't notice how hard I'm breathing or how fast my heart races. There's something about this girl. From that very first encounter, I couldn't deny the pull toward her. It's like I couldn't resist being near her.

Now that I've had her in my arms, I don't know how I'll ever want to let her go.