One, Montgomery hasn't changed. He's still the sweet Southern gentleman with exemplary manners who looks out for his friends. Case in point: giving Robbie a ride here so he wouldn't drive after drinking too much.
Two, despite said gentlemanly traits and a history of keeping his eyes off my assets in high school, he's seriously struggling to keep focused on my face now. Maybe my tight, light blue tank is to blame, or the fact that it's a little cold in here, but he's definitely checking me out. And even after all these years, that's fucking satisfying.
Except for-three, he doesn't remember me. Holy shit.
Oh, and four, he thinks I'm Willow's sister, Morgan.
"Morgan." He narrows his eyes, as if trying to place a puzzle piece. I could help him, but I don't. "You kind of look familiar. Did we hang with the same people or anything?"
Only one night. I shake my head. "No. We ran in different circles."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, or meet you again." His grin is so genuine, and having those dimples directed at me feels so good I realize a fifth thing: I'd rather lie and pretend to be Morgan Myers than tell sexy Chris Montgomery who I really am. Especially when he's looking at me as if I'd make the perfect bedtime snack.
Would you like fries with that?