It’s been over a week since everything with Azalea came to a head. She’s texted me once and called a time or two. Her message went unanswered and her calls unreturned. That girl’s an addiction, and I’ve gotta quit cold turkey.

Doesn’t mean I don’t miss her, though. Doesn’t mean she’s not on my mind damn-near twenty-four seven. Guess Cash wasn’t too far off when he said I was obsessed with Azalea, but this shit has to end. Kasey’s number has been burning a hole in my pocket, and it’s high time I get out of the house and try and figure out my life sans Azalea.

So, with a deep breath followed by two more, I tap out her digits and hit Send. It rings once, then twice. On the third, I’m about to hang up when a breathy “Hello” comes through the line.

“Hey, uh, Kasey. You might not remember me, but I sat in your section—”

“Brown eyes and a sweet little gap in your front teeth?” she asks, her voice swimming with laughter.

“Guilty. So, uh, I was callin’ to ask if you might wanna go out with me this weekend?”

“I’d love to, but maybe you oughta tell me your name first, sweetie?”

I can’t help but laugh, because I seriously just asked a girl out before she even knew my name. Obviously, I’m rusty. “Drake. My name’s Drake.”

“Well, it’s awfully nice to meet you, Drake. You already have a place in mind?”

“No, not really,” comes my honest reply. “You can choose.”

“I’ve been hearin’ really good things about this little picnic place. What’s it called . . .?” I already know exactly what she’s going to say, and that’s a big, fat negative. No way in hell am I taking this girl to— “FIRE! That’s it!”

Not wanting to delve into why I’m so against taking her there, I deflect. “It’s ’sposed to be real cold this weekend, Kasey. How about we go somewhere else—somewhere warm?”

“There is this one place I’ve been dying to try,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh, yeah? Where’s that?”

“Trattoria.” Fuck. This girl’s trying to kill me. But then again, what’s the likelihood that Azalea or her parents’ll be there? It’ll be fine. Perfect. Great. Freaking dandy.

I audibly swallow. “Sounds great. Let’s meet at seven?”

“See you then, and, Drake, I’m really glad you called.” She ends the call, and while I know I’ve got to move on, the knowledge does nothing to settle the sick feeling roiling in my stomach. You know, the one that’s all but shouting You’re making a huge mistake!

* * *

The week passes in a flash, and before I know it, the weekend is here, bringing my date with Kasey with it. I take my time getting ready, not because I’m excited but because Kasey is a sweet girl and she deserves a guy who’s at least willing to put in the effort.

So, dressed in dark-wash boot cut jeans and a blue plaid, pearl snap button-down, I make my way to my truck to make the drive into town.

To my date.

With a woman who isn’t Azalea.

How the hell did I get here? I always imagined she and I would grow old together, bickering about this and that as we rocked on the porch while our grandkids chased lightning bugs in the yard. But somehow, we took a detour. Hell, we more than detoured. We crashed. And burned.

Walking into the restaurant, I find Kasey waiting for me at the hostess stand. I take her in, noticing she’s almost as tall as me—so unlike my Little Bit. Stop, Drake, just stop. She’s dressed in a tight, icy-blue wrap-style dress and low heels. She’s a good-looking girl, she’s just not . . . fuck. There I go again.

“So, Drake, what took you so long to call?” Kasey asks, looking at me over the top of her menu.

“I help my dad run our family farm. Just been real busy,” I tell her, taking the coward’s way out. Plus, what girl wants to hear about the ex on a first date? Not that Azalea’s really my ex. Hell, I’m not even sure this is a first date.

“Well, whatever was keeping you, I’m glad you made the call.” Kasey sips her water before glancing down at my hands, her eyes trailing over the calloused skin. “You’re a farmer, huh? I can see that. You practically scream ‘homegrown.’”

“Do I now? How so?” I ask, wondering if it’s a mistake to play into her flirtations.

She slowly pulls her lips from her straw, her eyes trained on mine. “Mmmhmm. With that tan skin of yours and those strong arms and rough hands. Yessir, I can tell you work hard, and it looks good on you.”

I want to say her words have no effect on me, but hell, I’d be lying. Warmth unfurls in my chest, caressing the ever-present ache that Azalea left. It’s been so damn long since I’ve been with anyone but Little Bit, and it feels pretty good to be wanted. Even if it’s the wrong girl.

“Damn, Kasey, aren’t you sweet? Thank you,” I say, not too proud to take a compliment. “You’re pretty damn fine yourself,” I tell her, knowing it’s the right thing to say, but fuck, do the words taste foreign in my mouth.

Our server comes by and takes our order, and we make mindless small talk, chock full of innuendo and flirtations throughout our meal. Once our check comes, I pay and sign the credit card slip before standing to help Kasey up from her chair. With my hand on the small of her back, I guide her toward the exit, only to stop short when I hear my name.

“Drake? Drake Collins, is that you?” My posture is rigid—my entire body’s as stiff as stone—and I know my date can feel it. I pivot around, bringing myself face-to-face with two of the last people I wanted to see tonight, Beverly and Herbert Barnes.

Clearing my throat, I mumble, “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Barnes. How’re y’all this evening?”

“We’re doing well, just meeting Azalea—”

“Well, we’d better get going,” I tell them, sounding rude as hell, all the while trying to move Kasey forward. But I’m too late.

“Hey, Mom, sorry I’m late—” Azalea says, sounding out of breath, coming to a stop right in front of me. Close enough to touch. “Oh, um. Wow. Hi,” she says, her eyes flitting from me to Kasey and back again. “Wow. Um. Okay, well, it was, um, nice seeing you, Drake. Hope y’all had . . .” She trails off, her eyes glassy, which baffles me because I saw her checking out those guys the other day.

“Nope, fuck this,” she mutters under her breath, but loud enough for us to hear. “Mom, Pops, let’s go eat. I’m sure they have our table ready, and I’m sure Drake and his date have”—she waves her hand in our direction—“stuff to do. Let’s go!” Azalea grabs her mom by the purse strap and all but drags her toward the table they always reserve when they eat here.

I start to head for the door, but Mr. Barnes clears his throat, bringing me up short. “Son, I’m not sure what’s goin’ on, but use your brain. Please? One of y’all has to.”

Giving him a terse nod, I point Kasey back toward the exit, and we silently walk to my truck.

“Wanna explain to me what just happened?” she asks, sounding reasonably annoyed.

I mull over my words, wondering how I should play this. I could tell her that she’s no one important, but fuck if my brain won’t send the words to my mouth. So, I settle on the truth, as painful as it may be. “That was my . . . everything.” My words shock us both, because I swear on my life, I meant to say ex, but “everything” just popped right on out.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Thing is, Kasey, I just came out of a really long, really rough relationship. Hell, I’m not even sure it could be called a relationship, but that woman has my ass tied up in knots, and if I’m bein’ honest, I’m not really over her or even sure I’m ready to try and be over her.”

I’m not sure what sort of reaction I was anticipating, but I’m pleasantly surprised when she beams her pearly whites at me and nods. “Story of my life. Man, I sure know how to pick ’em. Well, Drake, as much as I wish you were on the market, I get it. I really do. I’m recently single too, and my breakup was bad enough that it caused me to move here from the next county over.”

“Aren’t we a pair? So, friends?” I ask her, a hopeful smile resting on my lips.

“Yeah, Drake, friends.” She laughs, and it lights up her entire face, just like Azalea when she—Stop, Drake, just stop. “You know, you might just be the hottest friend I’ve ever had. If you decide you’re ready for something more, even a rebound, you let me know.”

Smirking at her forwardness, I tell her, “Sure will. But for now, the only thing I’m really wantin’ right now is some ice cream.”

* * *

I take Kasey to my favorite ice cream shop, Scoops, where the ice cream is made in-house from local ingredients. To call it good is an understatement. I order a triple-scoop of chocolate in a waffle cone and Kasey gets a single of strawberry in a sugar cone.

“You wanna eat in here, or in my truck?” I ask, watching her lick away at her cone.

“Here’s fine. It’s nice and toasty.”

We post up at a table in the corner, and I’m two scoops in when Kasey finally speaks up. “What’s the story with you and blondie?”

“Long. It’s a long story.”

She looks around the empty parlor, her eyes comically wide. “What else’ve we got to do?”

“Guess you’re right. Okay, let’s see, short version? I’ve loved her since I was sixteen. We both’ve made some stupid choices. I suck at communicating, and she’s stuck in the past. Things recently blew up between us, and I’m learning to navigate life without the one person I planned on spending it with.”

“Alrighty then,” Kasey says through her smile.

“Are you laughin’ at me?” I ask her, crunching into my cone.

“Maybe a little.”

“You think you’ll ever get over her?”

“Honestly? No. I don’t.”

Frowning, Kasey reaches across the table for my hand. It startles me, because damn, we just agreed to be friends. “Sometimes, it takes knowing what you’re missing to figure out you miss it.”

“I’m not followin’,” I tell her.

“I’m just saying, if you ever wanna make her jealous—you know, show her what she lost—I’ll help you.”

“No. No way. Stupid games are what got us in this mess.”

“Okay, Drake, that’s fine. Just thought I’d offer.” She stands from the booth, and I follow suit, both of us beelining for my truck.

“Guess I’ll take you back to your car now?”

“Sounds good, and thanks for tonight and for your honesty. I appreciate it more than you know.”

The drive back to her car is silent, and her words about making Azalea jealous run on a loop through my mind. Would that work? Would she even care? Would it make things worse? Can things even get worse?

I glide my truck into the spot parallel to Kasey’s car as she unbuckles, moving toward her door, but before she can grip the handle, I pull her hand away. “Do you really think it would work? Makin’ Azalea jealous?”

“Seeing as I’ve been a woman since the day I was born, I know it’ll work. Women always want what they can’t have. We diet, we crave chocolate. Our man moves on, we want him back. Trust me—she’ll be on you like white on rice.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”