Their second chance baby, p.22
Their Second-Chance Baby,
p.22
A different bartender dropped off the menus and Mark’s next drink. He didn’t waste any time before tasting it. Determined to get him to detour toward eating, she gushed about the food at Provisions. “Oh, wow,” she said, as though she’d never seen the menu before. “The food is so good here. We try our best to be farm-to-table.”
He patiently let her babble on. Which she thought was sweet.
“I always get the lemon and rosemary chicken cutlets when it’s on the daily special.” She eagerly gazed at Mark for a reaction. Nothing. She checked the day’s special. Oh, shoot, no rosemary chicken. “Maybe you’d like Nic’s famous fried chicken?” She waited. “It’s a closely guarded recipe that will knock your socks off. She started making it here, at Provisions, then when we opened Roja, she got her own kitchen and moved there, but we kept her specialty here, since everyone loves it.” The extended explanation made perfect sense to a slightly nervous Megan, who’d been assigned a babysitting job on zero notice for a man who was currently tying one on.
Finally, he turned his face toward hers with half of his mouth hitched up. Granted it was nearly imperceptible, but she’d noticed, and she’d count that as a smile.
“I admire your tenacity,” he said before taking another swallow of the amber liquor. At least he’d slowed down.
She had to laugh at that. Silently, of course. But finally, she’d gotten a reaction out of him. “You want me to order for both of us?” She’d just lunge ahead, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She intended to get him to eat whether he wanted to or not. “The roasted veggies, all locally grown, are to die for. We can share.”
“Sure,” he said, clearly resigned.
Progress! As soon as her coffee came, she asked for a second mug and poured him a cup from the carafe. “Try it, you’ll like it. I guarantee.”
That half smile returned as he took the cup, dropped a good helping from his whiskey glass into the coffee and stirred, tasted, then nodded. “Very good. Yes.”
Without giving a thought, she playfully kicked his foot off the barstool.
“What? I tried it.”
They laughed and after that, things started to relax between them as they sat side by side at the crowded and noisy bar. Though he ignored the coffee after that one taste and went back to his drink, and from the slightly thick-tongued responses he gave, she figured he was sloshed. Still, he hadn’t asked her to leave him alone. So there was that.
She was dying to know what had happened to him today, but she’d have to be patient if she wanted him to open up about it. Maybe over their meal, or after he got some food into him, he’d talk more.
Byron must have pulled some strings because they got their dinner super-fast. Megan raved over the presentation. “Don’t you love all those colors?”
He lifted his brows and overexaggerated his agreement. “Oh, yes.” He was being patient with her, she knew it, but that was sweet, wasn’t it?
Again, feeling perhaps a little too relaxed around Mark, she lightly cuffed his arm to let him know she was on to him.
“What? I’m agreeing with you.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I would never do that.” He gazed at her for a second. She could see the hurt in his eyes. “Well, maybe a little, but only because you’re making such a big deal out of everything.”
Appreciating his honesty, and glad to be here with him, if for nothing more than to be a distraction from whatever awful thing had happened to him today, she smiled. “I can get overenthusiastic.”
“And you’ve been doing a really good job. Now let’s eat.”
Was he making fun or flirting? Of course he wasn’t flirting, and she deserved being made fun of. For whatever reason, she was really glad to be sharing a meal of “Nic’s fried chicken” and roasted vegetables with a slightly drunk man at the bar. It was far better than grabbing her to-go meal from Roja and eating quietly in her suite at her family’s Fame and Fortune Ranch.
Halfway through dinner, after nothing more than comments about how good the food was, and with Megan practically hand-feeding him roasted asparagus spears and bright red bell peppers, he said something that almost made her choke.
“I thought I’d found the perfect woman. But I was wrong.”
Willing herself not to react, Megan went still, because this was a monumental step toward communicating. She hoped he’d continue.
“She betrayed me.” He bit the head off the next butter-drizzled and shaved parmesan–roasted asparagus spear and chomped hard. “How could I have been such an idiot?”
Instead of looking at her as he spoke, he talked facing the wall-to-wall bar mirror, where her eyes found his and held tight. For a few seconds they stared at one another from a distance while sitting right next to each other. She was darned if she’d say a word, not wanting to shut him down again. Eventually he turned to her and searched her eyes as though wondering if she were a woman he could trust.
Up close, having turned toward him, looking into his sad dark gaze, seeing the toll the betrayal of the woman he spoke of had taken on him today, Megan sensed his vulnerability. It hurt, too, and her eyes threatened to well up, but she bit back her surprising reaction by taking a sip of the now-tepid coffee.
Betrayal could mean so many things. Did they have a prenup? Was there someone else? Had the fiancée lied about something? It could be anything, but right now one thing was on her heart, and she needed Mark to know it.
“I’d never call you an idiot.”
He jerked his head to look back at her. “Thanks.”
With that, Megan sensed that they’d just bonded, maybe on the tiniest of levels but it still counted, and she was determined to keep his secret between them.
As they finished the last bites of their dinner in silence, Megan also became aware of the righteous anger she felt on behalf of Mark. It didn’t seem possible that someone would dump a guy like him—on their wedding day, no less!
The next thought came from left field. What was up with his taste in women?
Her anger dwindled when it started to take a turn toward him. Had it been his fault for picking a flake? Or had she fooled him? Obviously that, because he just said he’d thought he’d found the perfect woman. Well, she could have assured him there was no such thing, but they hadn’t been friends before tonight. Only distant acquaintances, who would soon be distantly related.
The fact that Rodrigo had refused to attend his wedding spoke volumes. But even if his wedding had been on a fast track to a train wreck and he was partly responsible for choosing this woman, Megan was overcome with sympathy for him. And something more. She genuinely liked him. A drunk guy. A brokenhearted drunk guy, no less.
He could have used what happened today as an excuse to be loud and obnoxious, angry as all get-out, but even drunk, he acted like a gentleman. Painfully quiet at times, but overall respectful.
Most of all, she knew his pride had to be wounded after today and the man could use some moral support. If all he needed was someone to sit with him, she’d be that person. Because after whatever happened to him today, he could use some backup.
Megan was compelled to put her hand on the forearm of his tux jacket, but before she could, Rodrigo showed up.
“Sorry to make you guys wait, but I had to deal with a couple of things back at the hotel. One came complete with an irate guest.”
“Oh, no, that couldn’t be good.” Megan’s business mind popped into action.
“Trust me, it wasn’t. Their reservations had gotten lost. Somehow. Anyway, it’s still a mystery.” He put his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Sorry to talk business over you, but anyway, now that I’m here, let me take you home so you can finish sobering up.”
“Who told you I was drunk?” He cast a sideways glance at Megan. She lifted her hands, confirming her innocence.
“Ashley. You know, my fiancée?” Rodrigo righted the obvious assumption.
Mark nodded. “Listen, I don’t want to put you out. I can get a room at the hotel.”
“Actually you can’t. Our reservations are a little wonky, and I wouldn’t dare use a vacant room in case we have another mix-up tonight.”
“I’m just saying I don’t want to be a bother.” Mark accentuated the “be a bother” part.
Rodrigo’s hand was planted firmly on Mark’s shoulder. “You drove all the way from Austin in your wedding tux and, by the way, you look like hell, so I can only imagine what happened, and the last thing I’m going to do is leave you alone tonight.”
“So you can say ‘I told you so,’ right?”
“Nah, not tonight. I’ll wait until you’re sober. Come on. Let’s go.”
When Mark got off the stool, he glanced at Megan and tipped his head in a humble, gentlemanly manner.
“You’ve been kind to me tonight. Yes, I’m drunk, so I’m saying it out loud instead of just thinking it. But the point is, thanks for putting up with me, Megan-with-the-Asymmetrical-Hair.”
Her hand flew to the ends of her hair, then their gazes united and clung to each other and an odd feeling shot down Megan’s center. She’d never met a nicer drunk in her life, but it was more than that. Mark Mendoza seemed genuine, and he made her feel funny, as in really good funny, whenever he got around to looking into her eyes.
“You’re welcome, Mark. I enjoyed keeping you company.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can do a lot better than me on any given Saturday night,” he said as he wandered off with his brother.
“Thanks, Megan,” Rodrigo called over his shoulder as they walked out.
Megan stood and watched, letting that interesting feeling linger as long as it wanted to. Because it had been a long time since she’d felt that. Mark had no idea how dead her dating life had been lately. Sure, it had something to do with being married to the job—both jobs—these days. Still, it couldn’t be denied. Even if she had been dating, she doubted she’d meet a guy who could cause this kind of reaction—the funny dance-down-the-spine thing. From a man who’d been freshly betrayed today, no less.
Your secret’s safe with me.
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9781488075506
Their Second-Chance Baby
Copyright © 2021 by TTQ Books LLC
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Tara Taylor Quinn, Their Second-Chance Baby
