Benjamin Whitestone pressed his elbows onto the bar and swirled the bourbon in the heavy chunky tumbler he held between his fingertips. The smoky aroma of the whiskey wafted to his nostrils. He inhaled, let his breath out slowly, and then took a sip. It was his second of the night and, as much as he sought the oblivion getting drunk could provide, it would also be his last. He wouldn’t take the easy way out. He would stay sober so he could relive every moment of his father’s funeral yesterday. He didn’t deserve to forget. It was his fault, after all. His mother’s pale, shell-shocked image was burned onto his retinas. He’d done his best to support her through the ceremony and the interminable gathering afterward. She’d thanked him several times, which only made the guilt grinding him into dust press heavier on his soul. Today had been no easier, though less public. He’d only had to put up a front for his mother, her sister, and her brother-in-law. He’d escaped as soon as dinner was finished. “I don’t understand why you bothered with a hotel room,” his mother had said as he plucked the rental car’s keys from his pocket. “We could have made room for you here.” We. He wondered how long it would take for her to stop referring to herself as part of a couple. Regret gnawed with icy teeth, a constant agony. “You needed the space for Auntie and Uncle.” And he’d needed the space to help him stay sane. She sighed. “I wish you could stay longer. Let me know when you land in Los Angeles.” “I will.” He kissed her cheek and neglected—yet again—to tell her his boss had said he could take as much time as he needed. That he had no pressing reason to return to his coaching job in California. It was hockey’s off season, after all. No. He was running away. Again. Running away from his childhood home and the memories of how he’d failed as a son. He took another sip of his whiskey. It was only nine o’clock, and he had seven hours before catching the first flight out of Prince George in the morning. Sleep had been elusive lately, so it was pointless to go to his room anytime soon. He had to make this drink last. And then she walked in. *** Lynn Kolmyn stepped into the piano bar and wondered what the hell she was doing. And not for the first time that day. She regarded the neat white bandage on the inside of her forearm. Beneath it, her new—and last—tattoo was healing. The infinity symbol she’d had inked this afternoon at Golden Dragon Tattoos was small and simple, but it still throbbed like road rash under its protective cover. It had been a mad impulse, but one she hadn’t fought too hard. The well-ordered life she’d designed had been swept away just two weeks ago when her solid, respectable accountant fiancé had announced he was heading to Calgary to pursue a music career. He’d packed his bags and been gone the next day. She was still reeling from the blow. But she wasn’t heartbroken. After a couple days of shedding angry tears, she’d realized her upheaval was caused more by hurt pride than lost love. She’d realized something else while in the tattooist’s chair today. She was done waiting. Being a mother was on her life’s To Do List, right after Establish a Career, Buy a House, and Get Married. Sitting alone in the neat bungalow she’d bought for her and Lance, she’d decided that two out of three was good enough. She wouldn’t be the first almost-forty-old woman to decide to skip the partner stage and use science to make her a mom. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. She could blame her surging adrenaline on that decision, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth. Her nerves were fizzing because of why she’d come to the hotel’s jazz bar. Reckless and impulsive were two words no onehad ever used to describe her. But tonight, on the day she’d gotten a tattoo, the day she’d decided to be a single mom, she was thinking of doing one more crazy thing. She was thinking of having a one-night stand. Her first and last. As she wended her way to a table in the corner, discreetly scouting the few men scattered about the almost-empty lounge, a shiver ran up her spine. She looked toward the bar. And saw him. *** Receive the rest of this sexy bonus prologue when you sign up for my newsletter. As a subscriber, you'll be the first to hear about new releases, special offers, bonus content and more! Get it here. Then hop over to Leslie Hachtel for a sneak peek at what she's been working on.
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