Chapter Twenty-Three
The red-hot sting of Jake’s rejection in his office lingered in my chest for days, a dull, throbbing ache that refused to go away. I kept my head down, working my shifts at the bar with a quiet, mechanical focus. I didn't look toward the executive corner. I didn't try to catch his eye. I told myself that the distance was good, that it was keeping me safe, but the cold emptiness of my guest room felt more like a tomb with every passing night.
Then, she arrived.
It started on a Friday night, when the clubhouse was at its loudest. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer, exhaust fumes, and cheap pool-cue chalk. I was busy pouring draft beers for a group of rowdy patched members when the heavy double doors of the bar swung open, letting in a sudden gust of cool
