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leaning against the large wooden bar.
    “Oh—uh, not really.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “If you say so, Sweet Thing.” He’d called her that since they’d first officially met over the summer when she’d told him her jewelry line—and now store—was called Sweet Opal, after her grandmother. Coming from anyone else it might have been creepy, but there was nothing creepy about Aiden. He gave her a wink and went back to making drinks.
    Trying not to fidget, Brooke stared down at the amber beer in front of her. This was just great. Alex was standing her up. It was Thanksgiving in a small town, there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, and so his rejection stung all the more. Brooke absently took another drink. Maybe he’d gone to the hospital after all. Maybe he was getting stitches as she sat here, and he was just running behind. Maybe he’d met a
real
hot nurse and let her fix him right up.
    With that depressing thought, she finished her beer and indicated to Aiden she wanted another, which was probably a mistake both physically and financially, but she didn’t care. The truth was she was feeling very alone and very stressed. She took pride in her store, as failing as it may be, but this Christmas season would be make or break for her. And on top of that, she had no one to join her in her sorrows or her successes. Even her family didn’t really get it. Ryan tried, but he was a guy’s guy through and through and his job kept him busy. But more than that, he’d already done so much for her she hated to lean on him too much anymore. She knew hearing about her struggles only upset him and stressed him out.
    She glanced at her phone again. 9:00.
Damn.
    Brooke sighed and took another sip. Aiden was making his way back to her when an old rotary phone on the wall rang. He answered it with a deep “Smokey’s.” He was silent for a second, but then he turned and looked at Brooke for just a moment and her heart sank. It had to be Alex. Or even worse, her brother.
    She went back to her beer, taking large gulps, until she felt Aiden hovering over her. She glanced up and met his eyes, trying to ignore the slight look of pity in them.
    “He’s not coming, right?” she asked.
    “’Fraid not, Sweet Thing. But don’t you worry, if memory serves me right, and it usually does, then that voice belonged to someone I’m pretty sure you’re better off not canoodling with.”
    Brooke dropped her head into her hands, not wanting to admit to anything, and also embarrassed. Everyone in Preston knew about the legendary Alex Coleman, and the jerk had just proven himself once again by standing her up. Why was she surprised? It was probably because back at her shop he’d seemed … different. She’d thought surely he’d grown up since high school. Of course he’d had a glint of the bad boy in his eyes—she’d seen it—but she hadn’t gotten the feeling he would blow her off.
    She took a final gulp and sighed. Two beers down and she had the warm tingling of a healthy buzz. Her mind wandered to the feel of his thick dark hair in her fingers. He had smelled so good, and although she’d wanted to be a little put off by the knowledge of his wild past, it was also kind of hot. Annoyed with herself and a little lightheaded, Brooke laid her forehead in her palm.
    “You want to talk about it?”
    Brooke lifted her head and met eyes with Aiden. His expression was no longer pitying, but genuinely concerned, which was nearly as bad.
    “Would you stand me up in a bar, Aiden?” she asked, sounding like a wounded little girl. She was too languid to even care.
    Aiden gave her a flirty smile. “I wouldn’t stand you up in a tornado.”
    The sweetness in his voice almost made her want to cry. “Thank you.” She picked up her empty glass and nodded at it. “One more?”
    He stood up straight and narrowed his eyes. “You walk here?”
    She nodded. “Please, Aiden.” She should leave, but she was embarrassed and pissed. Those