who was the poor SOB now?
“I didn’t expect to see them here,” Rory was saying as she slid into an empty booth.
Chance had had plenty of time to curse the limitations of his injury but rarely more so than in that moment. Unable to fully bend his knee, he had to take the seat on his left, to keep his right leg stretched out. A seat that faced the back of the restaurant and gave him a perfect view of Alexa and her fiancé.
“Yeah, this is hardly Alexa’s kind of place.”
Rory frowned as she lifted the laminated menu that probably hadn’t changed since the last time Chance had eaten there. “How would you know?”
“I know...women like her,” he finished. “Wealthy, spoiled, too good for everyone around her.”
Not that Alexa had seemed like any of those things the night they met.
Setting the menu aside, his sister took a deep breath. “You know how much I hate admitting Evie’s right, but you really do need to get on board if you’re going to be our photographer.”
If? If? She’d all but begged him to fill in! “I told you I’d get a haircut and all that.”
“I’m not talking about how you look. I’m talking about your attitude about love and marriage...and women.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know Lisette did a number on you—”
Now it was his turn to toss the menu aside. “This has nothing to do with Lisette,” he stated flatly.
“Then what?”
“It’s—”
We come from different worlds, Chance.
He watched as Griffin James, a man very much a part of Alexa’s world, reached over and cupped her cheek in his palm.
“Nothing,” he told Rory finally. “It’s nothing.”
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