“Angie, you’re out of your ever-lovin’ mind.”

“The best way to get over a guy is to get under another. That’s my motto.”

My jaw falls slack. “You can’t be serious.”

“Hell yeah I am. You’re not a nun. You’re not with anyone or doing anything wrong. You have every right to sleep with whomever you want. If that happens so that you can teach my new brother-in-law a lesson, good. The Hennington ego is large my friend. It’s time to pop it.”

I twist my head over my shoulder, and Cooper smiles at me. The best I can offer back is a tentative wave before I turn back to Angie. “And hurt Cooper in the process?”

She scoffs. “If you’re honest with him, he won’t be hurt.”

“I think you Yankees forget how things work down here.”

“So you say. I’m going to check on Presley. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Remember, there’s a really great guy who is interested in you . . .”

Angie stands, and I fight the urge to scream. Date Cooper? How would that even work? He’s not my type. He’s nice, caring, attentive . . . normal.

I’m into the broken and unwilling to commit type.

I watch the people move around the dance floor, thinking about how different this all could’ve been. Trent and I could be married, have children, and be happy, but that’s not the case. He pulls away, I pull harder, and eventually, I let go. I look at Angie and Presley smiling and happy, which makes my chest ache.

Swiping the bottle of wine from the center of the table, I refill my glass and then draw a long sip of wine. “Move on.” I huff. “Move on to what? It’s not like there’s a line of guys waiting to date a former Miss Bedford County.” I shake my head and continue my tirade. “Cooper? Pfft . Cooper isn’t interested in—”

“Not interested in what?”

Shit, shit, shit. I have the worst luck ever. Only I would get caught mid-sentence talking aloud like a crazy person. “Cooper, hi.” My cheeks blaze as he grins at me. “Nothing. I was just talking to myself. You know, observing and all that.”

Because I’m an idiot.

His finger brushes against my cheek, causing it to burn hotter. “So, what were you observing about me?”

“You?” I squeak and then clear my throat. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. I wasn’t even lookin’ at you.”

He smirks. “I heard you say my name, Grace Rooney.”

I could crawl under this table and never get out again. Me and my big mouth. “It was nothing. I was commenting on something Angie mentioned before. About you wanting . . . to buy a . . . a . . . horse,” I lie. “Yup. A horse.”

He chuckles. “Sure you were.” Cooper grabs a chair and twists it around so he sits with it backward. “I know Angie, and she is not known for talkin’ horses. Plus, she doesn’t have anything to do with the horse business. So, what exactly am I not interested in?” He pushes.

My pulse quickens as I try to think of something. “It’s nothing.”

“Grace.” His voice is warm and inquisitive.

“Ask the girl to dance, son.” Mrs. Townsend appears out of thin air. “She’s been sittin’ here alone almost all night.”

Great. Now my best friend’s mother is setting me up. She can probably smell the desperation seeping from my pores. Thirty-six, former beauty queen, never married, and unable to seal the deal. I’m every Southern mother’s dream.

“I’m sure Cooper doesn’t want to dance, Mrs. Townsend. He’s—”

“Actually,” he corrects, standing from his seat without taking his eyes off me. “I’d be honored.” He holds out his arm, palm open, waiting. I stare at him, trying to figure out what to say as my stomach clenches. It’s not as if I hadn’t toyed with whatever I’ve been feeling toward Cooper for a while now, but if we dance here, now, it’ll be making a statement. One I’m not sure I’m ready to make. My heart races as I look at his extended hand “Grace?” Cooper’s green eyes lock on mine.

It’s just a dance. Trent isn’t my boyfriend. Actually, now that I think about it, we never once—since the day I met him—put an official label on our relationship. I also just stated my ending of whatever it was, and per Angie, Presley won’t be mad, so there’s no reason not to, right?

Right.

I plaster on a smile and place my hand in his, saying, “I’d love to dance.”

His warm hand engulfs mine as he guides me to the dance floor. We stop at a spot near the edge of the crowd, and he turns toward me. “Relax, Grace.” Cooper encourages as his thick arms wrap around me. “It’s only a dance, and it’s me. We’ve danced together since we were kids.”

I shake my head and grin, even though this is not the same at all. Back then, I wasn’t dancing with Cooper as a single woman. He was a friend, almost a brother, and now there isn’t anything sibling like about this. “I know.”

“Then stop shakin’ like a leaf.”

“It’s just that you’re you . . .”

And insanely hot.

“And you’re . . .”

I shrug. “Me. I’ve been around you since I was seven. I mean, you’re Cooper! The boy who pulled my pigtails and put dirt in my sandwich.”

He laughs. “That was once, and I was convinced that you were the one who wrote, ‘Cooper Townsend loves to eat boogers’ on the bathroom wall.”

I was, but he doesn’t know that. I’d convinced myself that I was in love with him, and he told all the boys that I smelled like cheese. I did the only rational thing a twelve-year-old girl would do: write it on the bathroom wall. Being in a tiny town, it didn’t take long for the news of the artwork to spread. I denied it like crazy and watched Cooper set out on a mission to figure out who’d written it.

“Truth?” I grin.

Cooper’s lips lift as he figures it out. “I knew it! I knew it was you.” His eyes sparkle.

“Well, you were mean to me! And I had a crush on you at that time.”

“You did?” he asks.

“Umm.” I giggle. “Yeah. You knew that!”

He shakes his head. “I had no idea.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. It only lasted about two whole days. Then you did some gross boy thing, and I was over it, but for those two days . . . it was intense. Plus, if my mom ever thought there was a chance of a you and me—I wouldn’t have been able to sleep over. You weren’t worth missing girl time with Presley.”