by Paige Weaver
At least not right now.
“School’s okay,” I said, flipping my long hair over my shoulder. “I’m just glad I’m home. No more early mornings. No more studying for a few months.”
“Yeah. School sucks balls,” she declared with a frown.
I nudged her arm. “No, that would be you.”
Tessa smiled with mischief. “So you’ve been talking to Junior?”
“No, but ewww.” Tessa’s mind was almost as dirty as mine. Almost.
We both just finished our first year of college. She was going to the local community college and I was attending my dad’s alma mater – the University of Texas. So far I loved it. It got me away from home and that’s all that mattered. In fact, this was the first time I had been home since I left for college. Nothing had changed. The town and the people were still the same.
And so was I.
“How’s school going for you?” I asked Tessa, crossing my legs under the table, aware of the men watching me.
She shrugged then sighed. “My parents are driving me crazy and Junior is being an ass. What else is new?”
Before I could respond, a waitress appeared at our table.
“Excuse me. Those men over there bought you these.” She nodded at some guys at the bar then placed two drinks in front of us. “I’m not going to ask how old y’all are because, frankly I don’t care. Enjoy, girls.”
“Hell yeah,” Tessa mumbled as the waitress walked away. She grabbed the straw and started sucking, not caring who had bought the alcohol for us. A drink was a drink, no matter who it came from.
I took a sip of my own drink, catching the eye of one of the men at the bar. He had lust in his eyes and sinfulness on his lips when he smiled at me. It was just what I needed but he wasn’t the only man in the room.
Frozen, sweet margarita filled my mouth as I glanced around. The place was small and crowded. Most of the people were men. A few were women. Tessa and I were probably the youngest, prime meat for the male patrons of Cooper’s. I wondered how many of them knew my dad or maybe Tessa’s father, the mayor. How many of them would run away as fast as they could if they found out who we were and what our dads would do if one of them touched us?
But the reality was it didn’t matter much. My dad was never home and Tessa’s father didn’t give a damn what she did or who she did it with. In their eyes we could do no wrong.
Thank goodness they didn’t know just how bad we could be.
I took another long drink of margarita. What I needed was another drink after this one and a man that only wanted one thing, in that order. A man could always make me forget and a drink could always make me give in.
I glanced back at the bar. The two men who had bought us drinks were leaning casually against the bar counter and smiling smugly as they watched Tessa and I chug down the alcohol. I skipped over them and kept going.
There was a couple arguing. The woman got in the man’s face, shouting at him. There was an old man talking to the bartender, clacking about something funny. There were three women that looked to be about my mother’s age, checking out the men in the room. Just cougars out to play.
Further down was a heavyset guy staring into his beer. A lone cowboy, his hat pulled down low, sat near him. He was nursing a longneck, keeping his back to the crowd. His long legs straddled the barstool beneath him. His body was lithe and well defined under his crisp shirt and worn jeans. I could tell by the way he sat, the way he didn’t move a muscle, that he was dangerous, someone who wanted to be left alone.
I looked further down the bar, searching for someone that might interest me. That’s when Tessa appeared in my line of vision. She was watching me warily, squirming in her seat. There was only one reason Tessa squirmed.
“Spill it,” I said, giving her my full attention.
She faltered but then gave in. “I know we’re here to have fun but…well…I put some flowers on his grave last week, Cat.”
All the air left my lungs. Her words slammed into me. Oxygen, so sweet and plentiful, disappeared. I struggled to breathe. My heart stopped beating. The music, the people around me, faded. There were only those two words, ringing in my ear.
His grave.
Tessa started stammering. “I…I know you don’t like to talk about it but…maybe…maybe if you go see him…” The words tumbled from her mouth as if she was afraid I would stop her. Interrupt her. Scream at her to stop.
I wanted to do all of the above and more.
“You haven’t been to his grave since they buried him. I…I think he would want you to go,” she continued, forcing a smile on her face. “He loved you, Cat.”
I snapped my head up, fire burning in my eyes and rage boiling in me. “Love? He stopped loving me the moment they put him in the ground, Tessa.”
I saw her flinch. In that moment I hated her more than anything. I hated everyone that talked about him. Everyone that reminded me that the one man I had loved was gone.
And I was the one who had killed him.
I shot to my feet, unable to sit there any longer. Screw her. Screw him. Screw everyone!
I was two steps away from the table when Tessa grabbed my arm.
“Cat, wait! You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself!” she exclaimed above the music, knowing full well what I was about to do. Find a man. Fuck him in a bathroom. Go to his truck for a quickie. Feed my problem and screw my guilt away.
I yanked my arm from Tessa’s grasp, angry. “What am I doing, Tessa? Living? Having a good time?” I threw my hands up in aggravation. Anything to stop them from trembling. “Tell me. What the hell am I doing that’s so wrong?”
Tessa looked up at me, sadness in her eyes. “Hiding, Cat. You’re hiding.”
Pain almost shredded what was left of my heart but I hid it well. I smiled at Tessa with wickedness.
“I’m not hiding, Tessa. I’m not hiding at all.”
Without another word, I headed for the bar. I needed another drink and a distraction. My eyes zeroed in on the man that had bought us the margaritas.
I needed him.
Chapter Three
Cash
“Another round?” the bartender asked, glancing down at my empty beer.
“One more.”
“I’ve heard that before,” she said with a grin, grabbing a longneck from the refrigerator unit under the counter then popping the top.
I chuckled as she slid it across the bar to me. I wasn’t much of a drinker but tonight I needed what the bottle could give me.
A break.
Cold beer hit my tongue at the exact same moment the sound of light, flirty female laughter filled the bar. I paused, the bottle still at my lips.
It was her. The girl with the eyes.
The moment I walked in, I had spotted her. She was sitting at a center table with her long legs crossed underneath. The tiny sundress she wore looked out of place in a room full of jeans and plaid shirts. Pearls were in her ears and a tiny diamond necklace was around her neck.
Too rich for my taste.
Dark hair fell down around her shoulders like black silk against porcelain skin. Her legs went on forever and she was curvy in all the right places. Her cowboy boots were handcrafted, probably from one of those damn boutiques that were popping up downtown. But her eyes – god, her eyes were amazing. They were a clear green, like new grass on a spring day. I had never seen such vivid, gorgeous eyes before. It was hard not to stare.
She looked like a beauty queen, on display for all to see. Only one thing came to mind when I saw her - high maintenance.
And guys like me didn’t go near girls like that.
I was flat broke, giving all I had to the farm. If the girl was from around town, I wouldn’t have known it. I was too busy trying to make ends meet and helping my parents to care what went on around here. My dad was buried so deep in debt, I was afraid he wouldn’t see the light of day for years. Now here I sat, wasting away the last few dollars I had on beer and bad music. But I gotta s
ay the other entertainment wasn’t that bad.
I had watched the girl with the boots and eyes for the past hour. She flirted. She danced. She hung on cowboys twice her age. She might be gorgeous but she was a party girl. There was only one thing she wanted and it looked like there were plenty of volunteers to give it to her.
I took a drink of my beer, trying to concentrate on something else and not stare at her long legs and hourglass figure. Usually I didn’t like women like her – ones that soaked up attention and craved a little action from cowboys like me. I was more the girl-next-door type.
And this girl wasn’t it.
“Tessa, another?” someone called out behind me, walking up to the bar.
Speak of the devil.
I kept my eyes on my beer and my fingers cupped around the longneck as the girl squeezed between me and a longhaired cowboy. Her sundress brushed against my outer thigh, the fabric gliding against my worn-out, old jeans. I shifted out of the way, readjusting my crotch at the same time. Shit.
“Bartender!” the girl shouted, leaning on the counter. It pushed her tits up and made the edge of her sundress slide down enough to catch my attention.
I paused with the beer bottle halfway to my mouth. My gaze drifted across breasts just the right size to fit in the palm of my hands and down to the girl’s long, tanned legs.
“Bartender!” the girl called out again, waking me up from whatever hold her body had on me. I averted my eyes and hurried to take another drink, keeping my face in the shadows of my hat.
Yeah, I didn’t do women like her but I wasn’t blind. The girl was gorgeous and damn if she didn’t have the perfect body. Long legs. Full, bouncy breasts. Tall. Tan. Slender. She was a supermodel in cowboy boots. Only someone forgot to tell her she didn’t belong in a place like this, whoring around men that couldn’t afford her and cowboys that shouldn’t touch her.
The bartender ignored the girl, about the only person in the room doing it. I heard the girl blow out an aggravated breath. Just when I thought she was going to relax and wait her turn, she got a second wind.
“Who does a girl have to blow around here to get a drink?” she shouted, looking down the bar at the bartender.
I shook my head and chuckled. I couldn’t help it. The girl had guts, I’d give her that.
She flipped her hair around and looked at me with one eyebrow arched high. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice dripping with attitude.
“No ma’am, but maybe I can help you.” I motioned to the bartender with a lifting of my chin.
The woman behind the counter saw me and headed my way. Her name was Jo and she was bartender, bouncer, and owner of Cooper’s. Tough-as-nails and grittier than dirt, I had seen Jo break up more than one bar fight. Sometimes she used a baseball bat and other times it was a sawed off shotgun, but she was always unafraid of drunk cowboys or their swinging fists.
I kept my eyes off the beauty queen beside me and watched as Jo moved our way. I could feel the girl eyeing me, sizing me up with haughtiness. I didn’t mind. Wasn’t like I hadn’t looked my share of her too.
“What can I get for you? Just one more?” Jo asked with a smirk, her round cheeks red from exertion.
The corner of my mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “No ma’am. Just whatever she would like,” I said, nodding at the princess beside me.
Jo looked the girl up and down. “What can I get for you?”
“Two tequila shots,” the girl said, tapping her long nails on the scarred bar top.
“You underage?” Jo asked, frowning. “I ain’t serving kids in here.”
Beauty Queen stuck her perfectly shaped chin up in the air. “I’m twenty-one.”
Jo snorted. “And my name’s Martha Stewart. Let me make you a damned two-layer cake full of bullshit.”
Beauty Queen stuck her chin up higher. The girl was going to get a crick in her neck if she kept that up.
“If I wanted bullshit all I’d have to do is look at your liquor selection. I asked for two tequila shots. Think you could manage that?” Her words dripped with sickly sweetness.
Jo didn’t blink twice. She grabbed two shot glasses and flipped them over on the counter, giving me a sharp look. “If you’re buying her these, she’s your responsibility. You hear?”
I nodded and watched as Jo grabbed a bottle of Jose Cuervo and filled up the glasses. Her gaze went from me to the girl with annoyance. When the glasses were full, she pushed them toward us with another frown.
“I’m putting it on your tab and adding a generous tip for myself for putting up with Miss High-and-Mighty here.” She nodded toward Beauty Queen. “Keep her in line, cowboy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said against my better judgment. I grabbed my own beer and took a long drink as Jo walked off. I had a feeling I would need it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Beauty Queen reach for the shots and glance at me with those big cat eyes of hers.
“Thanks for the drinks, but I’m not blowing you,” she said, her voice sounding like sex on a stick.
I almost choked on my beer. The girl might look like a sex kitten but she had the mouth of a sailor.
But two could play at her game.
I pushed the brim of my hat back and surveyed her, letting my eyes slide over her body with blunt appraisal. “Well, ma’am, I’m not much for buying a blow job with drinks, but I have a feeling you usually give them away for free.”
Surprise made her green eyes go round. She covered it up quickly but I still saw it. That’s when I knew she wasn’t used to a man calling her bluff.
She grabbed the drinks and turned away, flipping her long, dark hair over her shoulder and muttering something about me being a jerk. I let her go. It was fun while it lasted but I wouldn’t touch Miss Beauty Queen with a ten-foot pole. Well, maybe I would but it wasn’t going to happen in this lifetime.
Just when I thought she would disappear, she stopped right beside me. Her breast rubbed against my arm, sending spikes of heat through me. That little sundress of hers brushed up against my thigh again, burning me from the inside out. When she leaned closer to me, I froze.
“For you, I might just give one away for free,” she said in a sweet, sultry voice. “But for now, keep dreaming, cowboy.”
~~~~
I tried not to watch her but it was hard not to stare. She danced every slow dance and flirted with every man between the ages of 21 and 80. By midnight one man had claimed her, a tall fellow with a brand new hat and asshole written all over his face.
But it wasn’t my problem.
I pulled out some cash to settle my tab, ready to call it a night. About that time Beauty Queen’s laughter rang out in the bar. It sounded a little forced. A little too fake. I stole a glance at her from under my cowboy hat, something telling me there was trouble brewing.
But I was wrong.
New Hat Asshole had an arm around Miss Beauty Queen’s waist, holding her close. His mouth was near her ear and his hand was easing down her back, heading for her bottom. And she seemed to be enjoying every moment of it.
She leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest and letting that little dress of hers slide against his leg. He held her tight and nuzzled the skin below her ear, pushing her dark hair back at the same time.
I turned away, feeling the sudden need to leave. I wasn’t one for jealousy but I felt it right then and there. I wanted to touch her. Be the one to taste that little delicate spot right below her ear.
Agitated, I dug money out of my wallet and settled my tab with swift movements. I had to get out of there. The girl was affecting me more than she should. I needed to wipe her from my mind quick.
I headed for the exit like the devil was on my tail, enticing me with an angel in cowboy boots. A woman who probably tempted guys and stole hearts.
Rain and thunder greeted me as soon as I walked out of Cooper’s. It was coming down in buckets, turning the gravel parking lot into a mud hole. I ducked my head, held onto my hat, and
took off running for my truck. Water splashed around my boots and soaked the bottom of my jeans as I headed across the parking lot. By the time I climbed into my truck, I was drenched. I took off my cowboy hat and smoothed my wet hair back. Through the downpour beating on the windshield, I saw a group of people leaving the bar.
I didn’t give them much thought as I started my truck and pulled out of the parking space. My mind was on how the rain would slow down work on the farm tomorrow. But as I drove down the aisle of jacked-up trucks and farm vehicles, I glanced in my rearview mirror. That’s when I saw her. Miss Beauty Queen. She was standing beside a little sports car. The hood was popped open and she and another girl were peering down into the engine. Both of them were soaking wet.
I slowed down, my conscious nudging at me. Rain? Two girls with a broken-down car?
“Shit,” I muttered, slamming the truck into reverse. I backed it into a nearby parking space and threw it into park.
Thunder cracked overhead but the harsh rain turned into a soft drizzle. I saw New Hate Asshole stroll over to Miss Beauty Queen’s car. His stride was cocky and he had a shit-eating grin on his face. Something about him didn’t sit well with me. He walked over to Miss Beauty Queen and put an arm around her waist, just like he owned her. But I had a feeling no one had the right to her. She seemed to be nobody’s and everybody’s at the same time.
He started to pull her toward his truck, keeping an arm around her and speaking low into her ear. I saw her reluctance. Saw the way she looked back at her friend with uncertainty. Through the drizzling rain, I even saw the worry on her face. It was there a second then gone, replaced by an arrogant look again. I had a feeling she wasn’t afraid of anything. Certainly not some guy she had been leading on all night.
I must have been right because she gave New Hat Asshole a sweet, sugary smile and looked up into his eyes with boldness. He returned the smile and tightened his arm around her waist.
Miss Beauty Queen put a hand on his chest, keeping him at a safe distance, but he didn’t take the hint. He ducked his head and whispered to her, causing rain to drip off his cowboy hat onto her. She stiffened and tried to ease out of his arms but he wasn’t letting go. He started tugging her toward the parked pickup trucks nearby, leading her away from her friend and their broken down car.