Tequila & Tailgates (A Country Road Novel - Book 2)

by Andrea Johnston

  Jameson picks up the pizza and places it in the oven. I sip my Diet Coke as I take this opportunity to appreciate Jameson’s bending ability. By bending ability I mean his fantastic ass. I’m not paying attention to much of what Hope is rambling on about, but I can say I never expected to die by carbonated beverage either. That is, until I hear Hope’s question, and by the frustration in her voice it isn’t the first time she’s asked me while I haven’t been paying attention.

  “Ashton, do you have a date?”

  Coughing and choking while the carbonation tickles the inside of my nose, I glance to Jameson, who has an odd look on his face.

  “I ha … haa…” I mutter as I try to gain my composure. Seriously, carbonation is no joke. Waiving my hands to stop Jameson as he takes a step toward me, I attempt to respond again, “I have to–” the coughing continues. Saving me from having to compose a sentence, Jameson answers Hope.

  “No, Hope, Ashton has to go to work. Remember, I told you that.”

  “Oh, well you look really pretty and have date clothes on,” Hope declares with absolute certainty.

  I don’t even bother inquiring what a five-year-old considers “date clothes.”

  “Nope, just work. I’m going to go sit in the dining room. Do you want to come with me while your pizza cooks? Keep me company?”

  Nodding, Hope washes her hands and removes her apron before leaving the kitchen for the dining room. I slice off two pieces of pizza and put them on a plate. Before leaving the kitchen, I turn to Jameson, who is adding a few items to the top of his own pizza.

  “Thank you for the pizza, it was very kind of you.”

  “No big deal. Thanks for being nice to Hope.”

  “Of course, you know I love Hope. She’s a cool kid. Reminds me a little of myself actually.”

  “God, help us if that’s the case,” he says teasingly.

  “I’ll ignore that and go eat with my fan club, thank you very much.”

  As I cross the threshold out of the kitchen, I hear a sigh. “You do look nice, Ash.”

  Peering over my shoulder, I simply smile.

  The smoky eye was a great idea about nine hours ago, when I was composed and at home. Now, as Taylor follows the last group of customers toward the door and locks it, the look is far from sexy and sassy and more train wreck. I should be cleaning up and trying to get out of here but instead I’m sitting on one of the bar stools, pulling my hair out of the ponytail and massaging my scalp.

  “Fuck, that was a shit of a night.”

  “You can say that again,” I mutter while tossing my hair into a messy bun.

  “Thank fuck you were here tonight for this. I hate to think if it had been one of your nights off.”

  “You should be grateful, and the next time I need a night off, I’ll be sure to remind you of tonight. I’m just glad we had enough servers on the floor and I didn’t have to actually deal with customers at the tables. One less thing we had to deal with. Let’s get this place cleaned, I’m exhausted.”

  Over the next ninety minutes, Taylor and I manage to put the bar back in order before he walks me to my car. The drive home is quick and I’m thankful. All I want is a hot shower and my pillow. Pulling up to the house, I’m grateful for the porch light so I don’t have to struggle with my keys. Quietly entering the house, I can hear the low hum of the television and what sounds like snoring.

  Creeping like a thief in the night, I approach the sounds and find Jameson asleep on the couch. Is he kidding me right now? Jameson isn’t just sleeping. He’s shirtless and sleeping. Shirtless with an arm flung over his head and the other draped across his abs. His rock-hard and rippling abs. Is he for real right now? And is Vagelina serious right now? The pulsing she’s doing is ridiculous.

  I can’t even with this right now. Instead, I grab the pajamas I had set aside and head for the shower. I need to at least wash the sweat and grime off my body before I wake the sleeping bear.

  I finish in the bathroom in record time and return to the living room to wake Jameson. He’s in the same position as when I left him, only now the snoring has stopped and his mouth is open just enough that visions of kissing it overwhelm me.

  Get it together.

  Placing my hand to his shoulder, I gently push at him. Stirring a little but not waking, Jameson mumbles something, so I push a little harder. This time, my nudge is enough to wake him because his eyes fly open and his arms are flailing, almost knocking me over.

  “Shit, sorry. You scared me,” Jameson loudly whispers.

  “It’s okay. Hey, it’s late, you should go to bed,” I say in a hushed voice.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost three.”

  “Wow, I must have fallen asleep. I was waiting up for you.”

  No lie, my heart is working double time. Jameson turns so that he’s sitting now. His legs are wide. If I move only two steps I’ll be between them, his head level with my chest. I don’t. That would be crazy. Instead I take a step away from him. Watching as his elbows rest on his knees, hands in his hair, I lose the ability to breathe. Then, he tugs on the ends of his hair and I’m pretty sure one of my ovaries just popped. Like a button off a shirt. Ping.

  Sighing, I instantly realize it wasn’t a silent sigh as his eyes shoot to mine. It may be dark in this room, the only light coming from a small lamp, but it is enough for me to see the intensity in his eyes. For the briefest moment, the atmosphere is still. I break the contact first by clearing my throat.

  “Uh, so why are you waiting up for me?” I question, crossing my arms over my braless chest.

  “What? Oh, I wanted to tell you to take my room tonight. Hope will be up early and she’s not the quietest in the morning.”

  “It’s okay. I can always go to my own bed after she gets up. No biggie.”

  Standing, Jameson places his hands on my shoulders which, forces my arms to fall to my sides. “Ash, just take it. She’s a maniac in the morning and I’m sure she’ll either insist on watching a movie or making breakfast by seven. Just go sleep in my bed.” He turns me and nudges my body toward his bedroom. I only take a step before turning to him.

  “Okay. I’m so tired, I can’t even argue with you. Thanks, or whatever.”

  “Too tired to argue but not to be snarky. Got it. Now go, you look like hell.”

  Feigning offense, I can’t help but smile. “Ha ha. Hilarious. Goodnight, thanks again.”

  I don’t even bother waiting for his response. I simply open and close his door and crawl into his large and comfortable bed. Willing sleep to come quickly, I turn to my side and am greeted with the scent of Jameson.

  Don’t get any ideas, Vagelina.

  Work has been nothing short of ridiculous these last few days. The last good night’s sleep I’ve had was two weeks ago, when I slept in Jameson’s bed. Two weeks. And no, the good night’s sleep wasn’t because it was his bed. I suppose it didn’t hurt that I’m convinced he has something like five thousand thread count sheets, but because work has been a madhouse the last few nights. One of the other bartenders quit without notice. Apparently, she “fell in love” with a customer and they decided to elope. To Jamaica.

  Yay for love and all that crap. But, her sudden desire to wear white has left Taylor and me in a bind. Neither of us have had a day off in almost two weeks. Two weeks. That’s a lot of standing on my feet and a lot of dealing with drunk people. I’ve thrown out more attitude and snarky comments in the last few days than I think I have in the last few years. And, that’s saying something.

  This schedule also means I haven’t slept very much, which I suppose may be a contributing factor to the attitude. Thankfully, Taylor managed to fill the position this week and I finally have a day off tomorrow. I’m also first off tonight, which means the minute I walk in the door, I’m showering and putting on my PJs.

  This crap schedule also means I haven’t been out to Doris’s Tavern in what feels like forever. Shelly texted me the other day to make sure I was ok
ay. I love that out of what should be casual acquaintance-like relationships, I have developed real friendships.

  Exhaustion and I have become quite close these last few weeks, but tonight I’ve hit a wall. Hopefully, Jameson is out somewhere trolling for a lady friend. I swallow down the uneasy feeling that thought gives me. I have no business letting that idea bother me.

  Not bother. Annoy. It annoys me.

  I mean, of course he goes out. He dates. Why wouldn’t he? He’s a good-looking guy. Okay, he’s hot. Sexy. Smoking. Fine, he’s smoking hot. It’s so frustrating; I don’t even think he works out. How is that even possible?

  I saw a setup in the garage so I know he has the means for working out, but I’ve never seen him use any of the equipment. Surely with those abs of steel, he has must have some sort of a salmon ladder workout or whatever that super-hot guy on television does. I can only imagine Jameson hanging by some sort of steel contraption.

  Shirtless.

  Sweating.

  I’m sweating. Checking to make sure I don’t have the heater on, I confirm that the heat in this car is courtesy of my hormones and a very vivid imagination. Shower and bed. That’s what I need to think of. Not a sweaty salmon-laddering Jameson.

  Shower and bed.

  Alone.

  Turning onto Jameson’s street, I yawn long and hard. So very tired. I have never been more grateful to have a place to lay my head than right now. That is, until I note the familiar cars and trucks in front of the house. Parking in the driveway behind Jameson’s truck, I remember it’s poker night. Lovely.

  Stepping up on the front porch, I reach for the handle to the storm door when it’s thrust open and Landon is standing before me.

  “Hey, Ash.”

  Stepping aside and holding the door open, Landon greets me with a wide smile. A smile like that of a cat who ate the canary.

  “Thanks, Lan. What’s going on? Ya lose already?” Tossing my keys on the entry table, I lean over to pull my boots off before turning to face him.

  “Nope. We’re calling it an early night. Ben said you’ve been working a lot and would be crazy tired so we’re all heading to the Road. You, my friend, get to enjoy a quiet house.”

  More than confused, I turn to see Owen pulling his jacket on as he approaches us.

  “What’s up, shorty?” he asks, pulling me into a side hug. “How was the bar when you left? Lots of tipsy hotties for us?”

  Rolling my eyes, I punch Owen’s arm. “Don’t be a jerk.”

  “Whatever, we’re outta here. See you guys there!”

  Before living here, I assumed Jameson had some sort of revolving door of ladies. I was wrong about that. I kind of hate that he doesn’t. I mean, how can I justify his well-earned title of manwhore if he doesn’t ever actually whore? I had also assumed that no man could even come remotely close to taking the title of King of the Manwhores from Jameson, but Owen is easily taking that spot. I can only hope that he and Landon are not being complete jerks to the ladies they meet.

  Each of these guys, my friends, are not only sweet and funny, but ridiculously hot. They’re also the best catches in town, which is unfortunate when they are also my brother’s best friends. Why am I even thinking of these guys? I have a pillow waiting for me.

  Tugging my hair out of its ponytail, I walk into the living room to find my brother and Jameson breaking down the setup from the card game. Ben is carrying chairs into the dining room and nods at me in greeting. I do the same in return.

  “Hey,” I say to Jameson as I pull my shirt from the waistband of my jeans. I cannot wait to be out of these clothes and sleep for an entire day.

  “Hey, yourself. How was tonight?”

  Sitting on the couch, I pull my feet up so they’re tucked under me and rest my head in my hand. “Exhausting. You didn’t have to break up the game. I’m so tired I probably wouldn’t even have heard you guys.”

  “It’s fine. Ben was right, you should have a quiet house to get some rest. You’ve been busting your ass for weeks. Plus, I was losing and this made it so I’m not eating Ramen for the next week.”

  Laughing, I turn my body so I’m more laying than sitting with my head on the armrest. Watching Jameson break down the card table, I appreciate how well he fills out a T-shirt.

  His arms flex with each movement, the tattoo on his arm peeking out from the sleeve every so often. I itch to push back the hair that hangs down like a curtain across his eyes each time he leans forward. But, it’s when he lifts the table up over his head to carry it out of the room, and his shirt rises enough so that I see the waist band of his boxers, that I allow myself a moment of complete gawking. Salmon ladder for sure.

  Calm down, Vagelina.

  Fighting sleep, I close my eyes instead of my current and blatant gawking. Ben sits on the couch next to me, pulling my feet onto his lap, and I allow myself a few minutes of my big brother attempting to massage away the soreness. Opening my eyes one at a time, I turn on my back and smile.

  “You really are my favorite brother.”

  “Hardy har, I’m your only brother. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. Nothing a long shower and a good night’s sleep won’t fix. How’s it going with you?

  “Good. Piper misses you. She’s driving me nuts with swatches and paint colors. I wish she’d believe me when I tell her I don’t care how she decorates the house if she’s happy.”

  Nudging him when he stops rubbing my feet, I sigh and smile when he picks up my foot again.

  “She just wants your input, you buffoon.”

  “I know. I’ll just be glad when the school year is over and we have more time to do things other than work and work on the house. I’m also about done living in a construction zone.”

  We continue talking for a few minutes when Jameson comes back in the room and sits in his recliner. I turn my head to him, his eyes meeting mine, and I smile. He smiles in return, but this isn’t his usual friendly smile. It’s not even the smile he uses when he’s tolerating my attitude and jabs. No, this is something else. Something different.

  Blinking first, I pull my feet from Ben’s lap and begin flattening non-existent wrinkles from my jeans.

  “Well, you guys should get going, you have a few hours left until last call. Make sure those two idiots that left don’t get in any trouble. While you didn’t have to end the game early, I’m grateful you did. Thank you again.”

  Ben stands and hugs me. “Get some rest, Monkey. Love you.”

  Squeezing him back, I look up at my big brother. He really is a good guy and I’m lucky to have him in my corner. I may not have handled finding out he was dating Piper with the most grace, but I’m over-the-moon happy for them. He’s making my best friend my sister. There is no better gift.

  “J? I’ll talk to you this week; I’m going home to my fiancé.”

  Neither Jameson nor I speak as we watch Ben leave through the front door. I feel him stand behind me. Close. Not too close that he’s in my space, but enough that I can feel heat radiating off him. Seriously, I need sleep. This is ridiculous.

  Turning to Jameson, I raise a questioning brow. He should be hightailing it out of here to, well, to get some tail. Not moving, his eyes meet mine again. This is really getting unnerving. Fine, I can play this game again. Holding his stare, I widen my eyes to keep from blinking.

  Still nothing. I’m too tired for this game. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  Sighing, he runs his hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. “Yeah I guess I do. Are you sure you’re okay? I work a lot, but you’ve put even my hours to shame.”

  “I’m fine. Like I told Ben, it’s nothing a long shower and good night’s sleep won’t fix. Look, you’ve only got about ninety minutes until last call. Better get to it or all of the ladies will be sloppy by the time you get there.”

  Laughing, he takes a tentative step and pauses, seemingly considering if he should continue. If I wasn’t watching his every move like a
crazy person, I wouldn’t have seen the hesitation. It’s only a quick step, but enough that I feel uneasy. I don’t like feeling like he has something to say to me but isn’t. Needing to find our normal, I call out to him as he opens the front door.

  “Hey, Manwhore!”

  Turning toward me, I see the look Jameson always gives when I use the banned nickname. The one that says he hates it and would rather I call him anything else.

  “Don’t bring home a loud one, okay?”

  “Whatever. Go to bed, you’re being bitchy.”

  Not allowing me to respond, the door slams and I hear his truck start. Remembering I parked my car behind him, I wait for him to honk or beckon me somehow. When he doesn’t, I grab my keys and walk outside.

  Sitting in the cab of his truck with the engine off, Jameson is resting his head on the back of his seat. His eyes are closed, but his lips are moving. Something tugs at me. Regret? Remorse? I’m not sure. I feel guilty for a second but that quickly passes. This is who we are. We were getting too comfortable. I don’t want that. I can’t have it. If I do, then the walls I’ve painfully erected will crumble.

  Clicking the button on my fob, my car lights blink twice, indicating the deactivation of the alarm. The noise and lights must stir Jameson because he sits up and turns his key. Entering my car as his engine roars to life, I reverse out of the driveway and leave room for him to pull out. I watch as his truck leaves the driveway and pulls away from the house. Parking in the spot he just left, I unfold myself from the car and go about my nighttime routine.

  Taking a shorter shower than I hoped for, a quick run through of the blow dryer before braiding my hair and crawling into bed, I pray sleep comes quickly. The look on Jameson’s face when I called him a manwhore is still in the forefront of my mind. A glance at the clock and I realize it’s only been an hour since I got home from work. Pure exhaustion takes over my body, muscle by sore muscle. Sleep comes quickly and for that I’m grateful.