“Beer,” McKenna said.

That, at least, was normal for McKenna, as far as Jamie knew. It wasn’t like she had known McKenna all that long before she had gotten together with Jamie’s brother. But they had formed a friendship somewhat separate of her relationship with Grant, when McKenna had first come to the ranch to work.

“All right. I guess I’ll be back with three beers,” Jamie said, turning around and heading off toward the bar, while Beatrix and McKenna took their seats.

When she approached the bar, Laz, the bar owner, flashed her a grin, and then walked down to her end. “Hi there, Jamie,” he said. “What can I get you?”

“Just three bottles of beer. Whatever’s good and cheap.”

“I think I can figure that out,” he said. He turned away from her, headed toward the cooler.

Jamie leaned against the bar, resting her elbows against the scarred wooden countertop, then turned and looked over her shoulder.

McKenna had her hand extended, held in front of Bea, who was studying McKenna’s engagement ring.

Bea smiled about something, then placed her own hand at the center of the table, pointing to something on her ring.

Jamie blinked, grappling with that sense of isolation that had walloped her suddenly the other night.

She turned back toward Lazarus, who was headed toward her, beer bottles in hand.

“On your tab?” he asked.

She tried to force a laugh. “I don’t suppose I could put it on my brother’s tab?”

“You could,” Lazarus said. “But I don’t really want to have to answer to why later.”

“All right,” she said, slapping the bar top. “You can put it on mine, then.” Jamie nodded and transferred the bottles of beer to her own hand, turning and heading back toward the table, setting them down a little bit too firmly, breaking up the engagement ring conversation.

Neither of them said a word about rings after Jamie sat down.

“How is everything going at work?” McKenna asked.

“Good,” she said as casually as she could. “Other than the fall. Probably going to have a mother of a bruise.”

“What happened, anyway?” Bea asked. “Was it related to Gem?”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Jamie insisted. “It was a squirrel.”

Bea nodded sagely as if the fact that a squirrel might be at fault for some kind of trouble seemed eminently sensible to her. Not long after, Bea launched into a story that explained her reaction, involving Evan, her pet raccoon, and a fight that he had with a digger squirrel not that long ago.

Jamie took a sip of beer and turned her focus across the bar, and suddenly, Bea’s voice faded into the background.

She was about to open her mouth and say something. To complain about the weirdness of it all. Because right across the bar from her was Gabe Dalton, and what were the odds he’d be here, when she had just spent the entire day with him.

Except the words stuck in her throat, and her eyes felt glued to the scene in front of her.