by Amber Kelly
“Yay! Sonia can’t come until later because she is babysitting Beau until Mrs. Henderson is home from her quilting class. Can I ride out with you?”
“Of course you can. We’ll head out after supper.”
“Awesome. I’m going to go and start preparing what I’m going to wear.”
She stands and starts to walk off. Then, I watch as her feet turn, and she quickly paces back.
She looks back under the truck. “Thank you, Brax.”
“You’re welcome, sis.”
Then, she runs off again.
Women. It’s just clothes. Pants. Shirt. Shoes. That’s all they need. How it can take them six hours to decide which pants, shirt, and shoes is beyond me.
I finish up with the oil change and wash the truck. Then, I take Hawkeye out for a little exercise. I have only had the pup for six weeks, and he has tripled his weight. I think Doreen sneaks out and feeds him a couple of times a day even though I told her I feed him on a schedule. The vet is going to have a fit the next time he sees him.
When we return from our walk, I notice a horse trotting up the drive and a blonde ponytail swinging in the breeze. Madeline is standing on the front steps, watching the two of them.
We walk over, and Hawk drops onto the first step and falls fast asleep.
“Is that Sophie on Huck?”
“It sure is. I helped her saddle him a few minutes ago.”
“And Huck didn’t resist?”
“Not a bit.”
“That damn horse never lets anyone ride him.”
“I think he’s become quite enamored with her.”
I watch as she gets to the gate and turns the horse. Then, she brings him to a controlled canter.
“She’s good with him,” Madeline observes.
One more pass of the drive, and Sophie leads the animal toward the pasture and takes off in a gallop.
My heart skips a beat, and I start toward the field.
Madeline reaches out and halts me. “She’s good. Let them run.”
“I never run Huck like that. I don’t know how he’ll do.”
It makes me nervous to watch as she picks up pace.
“She’s a skilled rider. She can handle him. If she didn’t think he was steady, she wouldn’t have taken off.”
The screen door opens, and Walker comes out with a beer.
“That Sophie on that horse?” he asks as he takes a seat on the step and starts to pet Hawkeye.
“Yep.”
“Look at her go. City girl is just full of surprises, isn’t she?”
I look back at her, laughing as she brings Huck back to a canter and heads toward the barn.
“Yep, all kinds of surprises.”
After supper, Elle and I head out, as promised.
Dallas picked Sophie up earlier, and the two of them were eating at her house with her dad and Beau before coming to Fast Breaks.
“How do I look?” Elle asks as we pull out of the drive.
“Pretty, as always.”
She beams at me. “Jeremy is going to be there tonight, so I have to look extra.”
“Extra?”
“Yes. That’s what Sophie called it. She helped me get ready tonight. She did my makeup.” She turns and starts batting her eyelashes at me as if that helps me see her makeup better.
“Looks nice.”
“And look, Brax!” She pulls a chain out from her blouse and shows me the necklace around her neck.
“That’s nice as well.”
“Isn’t it? Sophie made it for me.”
“She did?” I take a closer look at the delicate chain around her neck with the little silver flower.
“Yep. It’s a lily, and the center is made of mother of pearl. She made it for me, so I could have something that reminded me of Momma.” She sniffs as she reverently tucks the chain back close to her heart. “Wasn’t that sweet of her?”
It was. Elle hates that she can’t remember our mom. Not her face or her voice. She was so young when they died. I can remember everything about her in precise detail, but Elle just knows what Madeline or I tell her or what she sees in pictures.
“Very thoughtful,” I agree as we pull into the parking lot, which is already filling up.
I pull into my usual spot and groan as I see the familiar Jeep parked in the spot beside it.
“Is that Morgan’s car?” Elle asks.
“Looks like it.”
I should have known she’d show up here when I didn’t respond to any of her messages.
Elle’s eyes go round, and she opens her door. “Don’t look now, but she’s headed this way. Good luck.”
The little brat hops out of the truck and hurries inside, throwing her hand up in greeting as she goes.
I put the truck in park and roll the window down just as she makes it to my side.
“Brax.”
“Hey, Morgan.”
“You got a minute to talk?”
“About what?”
“About me moving back.”
“What happened to Texas?”
“Oh, salary disputes, failed contract negotiations, and me just finally getting fed up and homesick enough to tell them to kiss my ass. Mom could use my help around here anyway.”
“That’s too bad.”
I start to roll up the window, and she sticks her hand in and halts me.
“Come on, Braxton. We haven’t seen each other in a couple of years. I just got home, and you aren’t replying to any of my messages.”
“I’ve been busy, Morgan, and you know I’m not much of a phone person.”
She leans closer into the window. “I know. I just … I miss you.”
She sticks her lip out in a fake pout, and it does nothing for me but make me want to laugh at her antics.
“I thought we were past this, Morgan.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be past it.”
“You should be.”
She lets out a frustrated huff. “You’re never going to forgive me, are you?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. We just had different dreams; that’s all.”
“What if my dreams have changed?”
“Then, I wish you luck at following your new ones, but I’m not a man who lives in the past.”
She starts to tear up, and I consider putting my foot on the gas and plowing through the front of the bar.
“Are we at least still friends?” she finally asks.
“Friends I can do.”
Her face falls, but she straightens up and takes a step back. “Well, come on then. Take me inside and buy your friend a shot.”
I can already tell this is going to be a long night.
Sophie
We pull up to the site of the old dye house mill a few miles outside of town. It still looks the same with its brick exterior, rusty tin roof, and huge, blacked-out, floor-to-ceiling windows.
I peer up at it through the windshield. “This is it? I thought this place closed down back when we were girls?”
“It did. Sat here empty for years and years until the town council finally decided to let Butch and his brother, Doug, buy it and turn it into a bar.”
“Butch? As in Butch’s Tavern?”
“Yep. He wanted to expand his redneck entertainment empire.”
“Looks sketchy.”
“It’s not. They kept everything original on the outside, but the inside is cool as shit. Come on in and see.”
We hop out and cross the parking lot where a large man in a black long-sleeved shirt that says Security across the chest is sitting in front of the enormous wooden beam doors.
“Hey, Fred.”
“Hey, Dallas. Who’s your friend?”
“This is Sophie. She’s Jefferson Lancaster’s daughter. She came in for Gram’s funeral.”
“Nice to meet you, Sophie. We sure were sad to hear about Gram. She was a great lady.”
“Thank you.”
“You two have fun and stay out of trouble.” He winks
as he opens the door for us to walk inside.
Dallas is right. It is cool as shit. The inside was gutted, and a sizeable raw wood bar was added to the far wall. The walls are exposed brick, and the high ceilings are accented with brushed silver, old ductwork, and iron pipes. High pub tables made of the same raw wood as the bar top are peppered in front, and off to the right are six large pool tables. The lights are low-hanging cascade chandeliers with antique amber bulbs that give off a subtle glow, granting the room lots of private, dark nooks and corners.
Music is coming from an ancient jukebox to the left of the bar, but it’s not too loud that you can’t carry on a conversation.
“Wow.”
“Right! Pretty progressive for a beer joint in the woods of Poplar Falls, Colorado.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Wait till you order a drink.”
We sidle up to the bar, and Dallas lets out a whistle to get the bartender’s attention.
“I’ll have a shot of tequila and a glass of whatever beer you have on tap,” she shouts and then expectantly looks at me.
“Do they have a cocktail menu?”
She gives me a look that screams, Are you kidding me?
“Fine, I’ll have a glass of whatever red wine they serve.”
She shakes her head at me and shouts again, “Make that two shots of tequila and an iced tea.”
I guess they don’t serve wine here.
Dallas turns around and props both her elbows back on the bar as she surveys the room while we wait for our drinks.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?”
I spin around to follow her gaze and see Elle and Braxton at one of the pool tables with a group of six. I recognize Myer and Walker but none of the others.
“Morgan’s here.”
“Who’s Morgan?”
“Braxton’s ex-fiancée.”
I gasp. “He was engaged?”
“Sure was. But they broke up, and she moved to Texas. I heard she was back in town though. Looks like she came sniffing around, looking for him, right away.”
There are two women standing at the table with them, one with a pool stick in her hand.
“Which one is she? The one playing or the one watching?”
“She’s the one playing with the tight dress on. Who wears a damn dress to shoot pool?”
I assess the woman. She has long, dark hair that she has pinned back on one side. She is tall and slender, and she looks good in the cream-colored wrap dress and cowgirl boots.
I instantly hate her, and I have no idea why.
“I guess he has a type,” I observe. Then, I turn back to the bar and wait for my shot.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen a brunette sneaking out of his place early in the morning.”
“Really? Was it her?”
“No, this girl was shorter, and her hair was a shade lighter.”
“That dog. Keeping his hook-ups on the down-low.”
The bartender places two salt-rimmed shots in front of us and two mason jars—one filled with draft beer and one with tea and lemon.
I pick up the shot glass and clink with hers before downing the shot. It burns all the way down, and I sputter and grab the jar with tea to wash it down. Which doesn’t help. That burns too. I start coughing, and Dallas begins to beat me on the back.
“Are you all right? Did it have a bone in it?”
“Funny. What is that?” I rasp.
“It’s iced tea vodka. What did you think it was?”
“I thought it was tea.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Why would I order you tea at a bar?”
“Why would you order me a mason jar full of straight liquor?”
“Because it’s a bar, duh. And you don’t drink beer.”
Jeez. I already know this night is going to take an interesting turn.
“Come on. Grab your glass. Let’s go be nosy.”
She picks up her beer and starts toward the pool tables. I follow a little less enthusiastically.
“Hey, guys,” she bellows as we approach the crowd.
“Ladies.” Walker scoots off a chair and makes room for us at the table covered with empty beer bottles and squares of cue chalk.
Elle comes over right away and hugs us both. “You guys finally made it.” She drags a chair over from one of the other tables and sits with us.
Dallas gestures toward the pool table with her chin and asks, “Who’s winning?”
“Braxton and Myer, of course—because they cheat!” Walker yells across the room.
“You’re just mad because you shoot like a girl,” Braxton retorts as he shoves the ball rack into Walker’s gut.
“Hey,” Dallas huffs, “that’s offensive. Girls don’t play as bad as Walker.”
Myer spits beer across the floor, and Walker fakes an arrow to the heart.
“You wound me, Dal.”
“Sorry, baby, but it’s true. And we’ll prove it. Sophie and I play the winners next.”
I sputter, “Um, Dal, I’m not good at pool. You don’t want me as a partner.”
“You scared, Princess?”
I look up at Braxton, who is standing with his arms folded across his chest and a challenge in his eyes.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then, rack ’em, and let’s play.”
“Fine.” I grab my glass of horrible-tasting liquor, down it in one gulp, and stand. I’m swaying a little on the heel of my new boots.
“Whoa, you all right?” Walker asks as he catches my elbow.
“I’m good. Just stood up too fast.”
I make my way over to the rack on the wall and grab a cue stick. Then, I nervously chalk the tip as Dallas starts to rack the balls.
“What’s the wager?” Dallas asks the boys as she sets up the balls.
“No wager,” I insist.
“There’s always a wager,” Walker leans in and says into my ear.
“What do you want it to be?” Braxton asks her.
“We win, and you have to teach Sophie here how to drive this weekend.”
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me. “You can ride a horse that won’t let anyone else ride it, but you can’t drive a car?”
“I can drive. I think. I’ve never really tried before. I just don’t drive.”
He looks back at Dallas. “Done. What if we win?”
“What do you want?” she asks him with a seductive lilt to her voice that I don’t like.
Wait, why do I care if she flirts with him? She always flirts with him.
He does a one-shoulder shrug. “Myer, you pick.”
“If we win, you ladies cook us supper tomorrow night at Dallas’s house.”
“You’re on.”
She takes her cue and blasts into the triangle of balls, and they fly in all directions. She pockets three. Two solids and a stripe, and the game is on.
Walker buys everyone a shot and another round of drinks. This time, when I chase the shot with the iced tea, it’s not so bad.
I’m a disaster of a partner. My third attempt to line up and shoot, I dig the cue tip right into the felt.
Ugh. I bang my head against the side of the table. How did I let myself get roped into this?
I’m still bent over the stick with my ass in the air when Braxton comes up beside me.
“Don’t they have pool tables in New York?” he asks with a smirk.
I stand to answer him. “Of course they do. I just don’t have the talent for this game.”
He takes a sip from his beer bottle and sets it aside. “Yes, you do. Any girl who can ride a horse has the right hand and eye coordination to shoot pool.”
He rolls his sleeves up to reveal his tanned forearms, and then he walks up behind me.
A shiver runs down my spine as he takes me by the waist, turns me back to the table, and continues, his warm breath at my neck, “You just have to stop focusing on where the ball is and keep your eye on where you want
it to be.” He wraps his arm around, and he slides his hands down the cue stick to mine. He takes my hands and adjusts my grip. “Hold it like this. All the weight on your back wrist, so the cue slides easy, and you have control. You ready?”
I nod, and he leans into me. We bend together over the edge of the table.
“Nice and steady. Strike firm. Too light, and you’ll barely tap the other ball. Too hard, and you’ll jump the table.”
I pull back and strike the white ball, and it hits and sends the other into the side pocket.
“I did it!” I squeal as I turn in his arms.
We are so close that his breath licks across my lips. It smells like beer and cinnamon. One slight step, and our mouths would be touching.
“Very good, Princess. I bet there are a lot of things I could teach you.”
In my inebriated state, I want to take him up on that, but better judgment grasps me before I say it out loud.
I quickly turn away from him, and five sets of eyes are all trained on us. Including Morgan’s, and they are full of fire.
Wonderful.
Braxton
“We won!” Sophie throws her hands in the air and does a sexy little victory dance.
“Only because Dallas is a shark.” Walker throws an arm around Sophie’s neck, pulls her into his side, and musses her hair.
“Ew, get your sweaty pit away from my face.” She makes a face and pushes him, and instead of him moving, she starts falling backward.
I start to reach out for her, but Dallas comes in behind her and catches her before she ends up on her ass.
Sophie starts laughing.
“I think maybe the iced tea vodka was a bad idea for you, lightweight,” Dallas muses.
By my calculation, she has had four shots of tequila and three jars of whatever the hell she was drinking.
“Bathroom,” she says to no one in particular and picks up her purse and heads toward the restrooms.
“Brax?” Morgan draws my attention from following Sophie’s unsteady trek.
“Yeah?”
“Can you give me a ride home?”
“Your Jeep is outside.”
“I’ve had too much to drink. Doug said I could leave it here tonight. One of the new guys working the bar offered to take me home, but I don’t know him, and I don’t think I want to get in a car alone with him.”