“Good for you,” Megan said, meaning to show support.

“Mind your own business, honey,” Ronda May snapped. “I’m only here to take your order.” She leaned over the table to pick up the discarded menus. Megan would never know if what happened next was accidental or deliberate. As Ronda May reached, her arm brushed Megan’s half-full wineglass, knocking it over and spilling dark red wine into Megan’s lap.

Megan gasped as the liquid soaked into her jeans. She grabbed a cloth napkin, dabbing frantically.

“Here, come on.” Giving Conner no time to react, Ronda May pulled her out of the booth and down the hall to the women’s restroom. Inside, she yanked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser, wet them under the tap, and thrust them at Megan. “Get out as much as you can. It’ll stain,” she said.

“Thanks.” Megan was doing her best to blot up the wine, but it had already soaked through to her underwear. She could feel the wetness against her skin.

“No need to thank me.” Ronda May’s eyes blazed like an angry bobcat’s. “But as long as we’re here, honey, you need to know a few things. Conner and I were hot and heavy most of last year. He begged me to marry him. I said no because I wasn’t sure he was ready to settle down. When I ended things between us, he was heartbroken—must’ve called me ten times a day, pleading with me to come back.”

Megan listened, trying not to jump to conclusions. The woman and Conner clearly had a history. What Ronda May was telling her didn’t match her impression of the cool and cautious Conner. But then again, how well did she really know him?

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked in a level voice.

Ronda May’s prettily made-up face filled Megan’s vision. “Because I’ve learned my lesson, honey,” she said. “I want him back. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stand aside and let me have him.”

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Megan returned to the dining room, Conner, looking worried, was waiting for her by the booth. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just wet.” Megan slid back into her seat. After Ronda May’s tirade, she’d simply walked out of the restroom. She was still at a loss for words.

Conner sat down across from her. “I asked the hostess to get us a different server—unless, of course, you’d rather not stay.”

Megan found her voice. “I’ll stay. But I get the impression your girlfriend doesn’t like me much.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. Not anymore, at least. We dated for a few months Then we broke up. She found somebody else and got engaged. End of story—or so I’d hoped.”