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

by Andrea Johnston

  “I think we need to scale this back a little. I’m … We’re getting too comfortable. I … We need another rule. No sleepovers.”

  “No.” One word and he releases me and opens the refrigerator. Pulling two bottles of beer from the door, he opens one and extends it to me. I accept.

  “What do you mean, no? Yes.” Taking a long drink from his beer, he stares at me with a blank expression. I continue, “It’s getting too … just too. I think we need to make this less habit forming. In fact, I should probably go do something tonight. Let you and Hope hang out.”

  “Again, no. You’ll hang out like you’ve planned, we’ll make pizza, we’ll watch a movie, and I’ll put Hope to bed. Then, I’ll put you to bed and we’ll sleep. Only sleep. Well, not only, but mostly.” His tone is light-hearted and I can’t help but smile in return.

  “Look, Ash, I know we’re both more relaxed and this arrangement has been …. Well, beneficial. But truthfully, I’m fucking tired. I’m too damn old for these late nights.” Making his way toward me, I brace for him to break this off completely. “Don’t get me wrong, I love nothing more than your sexy ass in my bed in the middle of the night, but I need to fucking sleep.”

  I agree. “You really are old. I mean, thirty is knocking and all that.”

  “Shut up,” he says before kissing me. Arching my back, I return the kiss.

  “Let’s go, we’ve got a five-year-old to deal with. We may need to brew a pot of coffee, old man,” I tease as I turn from him. The minute his hand smacks my ass, I squeal and we both start laughing.

  Three hours, two regular pizzas, a dessert pizza, and a movie later and Hope is happily snoozing away in my bed. Cuddled up with her bunny and thumb in her mouth, she looks comfortable and happy. Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable and out of sorts. This is too … just too. Too domestic, too comfortable, too normal.

  I need a good argument or, hell, just a reason to be sarcastic. Something to bring balance to this. Dishes. Dishes are a good alternative. Taking my time with the dishes, I am lost in thought as Jameson comes in to the kitchen, pulling my hands from the dishwater.

  No words are spoken as he leads me to the couch and pulls me to his lap. So many thoughts right now. Thought one, fuck he’s hot. Thought two, I really could go for a quickie. Thought three, I need to end this. I’m getting attached. I am attached. I’m breaking rule two. I fucking hate my life.

  “I’m sleeping here tonight. You’ll sleep in my bed. We’ll both be miserable and then tomorrow I’ll be an awesome uncle and take Hope to the zoo while you shop with Piper. Stop thinking too much. You’re making mountains out of molehills. This isn’t complicated. We’re fine.”

  Snuggling into him, I wish he were right.

  I slept in Jameson’s bed. No, I passed out in Jameson’s bed. The last couple of weeks caught up with me and I slept like the dead. When I woke up this morning, I felt slightly out of sorts. His scent lingered and the comfort of being in his bed was there, but something was missing. This was another point in the column of this arrangement needs to end. Too much is running through my mind.

  So much remains unsaid about our past and not enough said about our present. I knew it the moment he said rule two – don’t fall in love. Part of me failed that rule four years ago, and the last few weeks have only confused me more. All of this is too much and, to top it off, he was thoughtful this morning. Leaving me a note and a muffin was the last thing I needed when I was trying to figure out how to end this sham of a friends with benefits situation.

  The door bells rings and I hear the front door open before I can answer. Knowing it’s Piper, I start toward the front door before she can make it too far. I hear a car pulling out of the drive and assume Ben has dropped her off.

  “Hey, ya ready?”

  “Whoa, where’s the fire? I’m good. Where’s little Hope? I thought I could say hi.”

  “They were up and headed to the zoo before I was even up. Come on, we have a big day. Let’s go. You look pretty.”

  If I know one thing about my best friend, and soon to be sister-in-law, it’s that a compliment can distract her from anything.

  “Thank you. My mom said I should dress up for these shopping days. I would prefer to be dressed like you and comfortable instead of in a dress and heels. But, if my mom can’t be with us, the least I can do is dress the part for her. Let’s go.”

  Taking the first sip from my second glass of champagne, I am utterly amused by Piper and this entire shopping experience. She has been unable to tell this poor consultant anything to help her pull dresses. She likes sleeveless, sleeves, off the shoulder, and strapless. Bling is great but so is lace. Maybe a simple A-line is what she needs? Can shorter girls wear something like a ball gown?

  Piper is the sweetest and kindest soul I know but she is also the most indecisive. Either you like a dress or you don’t, I’m not certain why this is so complicated. The poor consultant has pulled the most random styles and Piper is only in her second dress since we arrived, two hours ago.

  Per Piper, this is terribly complicated and she won’t just try a dress on for the sake of trying it on. She must “feel a connection” to the dress. I can’t even, and when I can’t even anything, I drink. That is how I find myself finishing off this glass of champagne and shouting for Piper to show me the dress.

  “I don’t think you’ll love it!”

  “You don’t have to shout, we’re the only ones here and I’m like two steps from you. Just show me. How will we know what you like if we don’t assess each dress?”

  “Fine, but I want you to remember I’m doing this under duress.”

  Duress, my ass. Standing and feeling the effects of the champagne, I walk over to the display of head pieces they offer. Choosing one that is overly sparkly, I place it on my head and turn my attention to Piper as she steps up on the pedestal.

  Wow. My best friend has always been beautiful, but seeing her in a wedding dress has just taken that beauty and intensified it by a thousand percent. A dress that a bridal magazine would call “country chic,” this lace gown has tiny cap sleeves with a sweetheart neckline. The bottom quarter of the dress has tiny beading that catches the light and casts prisms around the room. As Piper turns to face the mirror, I note that the back is cut out and hits just above her lower back.

  Tears prickle at my eyes as I approach her. “Pipe, you look amazing.”

  “You think? I don’t know. It’s not too much bling?” she asks as she runs her hands along the front of the dress with the brightest smile on her face. This is the dress.

  “I don’t think so, but it’s your dress. I hope my idiot brother knows how lucky he is.”

  “Are you crying? Ashton, what’s wrong?”

  Waving her off, I force a tiny smile at Piper. This is her time, her moment. I need to get my shit together. The consultant must recognize the look on my face because she offers me a sympathetic smile as she steps up to Piper.

  “Miss Lawrence, I think a sash would really set this dress apart from others. Would you like to see one?”

  “Uh, sure. I guess.” Piper looks at me and we both shrug.

  Seconds later, the consultant appears with a sash that’s a color somewhere between taupe and a blushed pink. As she ties the piece of fabric around Piper’s waist, another tear slips from my eye. A sniffle escapes and Piper turns to me, her hands holding the skirt of the dress and a look of fear on her face.

  “Ash, what’s happening? Is it awful? Do you hate it? Is that why you’re crying?” So many questions.

  “Champagne. You know it makes me sappy. Here, drink this,” I say, shoving my glass at

  Piper and tossing myself dramatically to the couch.

  “Can you give us a few minutes?” Piper asks the consultant. “Wait, and maybe another bottle of this. I’ll pay for it.”

  Taking the spot next to me, Piper pulls me to her chest as I sniffle.

  “I can’t cry on this; you may not buy it.”

  “Who are we k
idding? I look amazing in this; it’s probably the dress. Besides, it’s the sample. Cry away.”

  “I’m not really crying.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s the champagne.”

  “Sure it is. Thank you,” Piper says to the consultant as I hear the cork on the new bottle pop. A glass is thrust in front of me and I take it.

  “I’d like to make a toast.”

  Raising my glass and sitting up straight, I wait for Piper to gather her thoughts.

  “May you find a man as generous and kind as the one I have. And, may your dreams come true as mine have and may you and I have lots of babies that grow up to be the bestest of friends. I love you, Ashton. Thank you for sharing this moment with me. I’m pretty sure this is the dress but I’m having too much fun so we’ll just pretend it isn’t.”

  Laughing, we both take a drink of our champagne. Well, I take a drink, Piper downs it like a shot and pours herself a second glass, which she finishes in two drinks.

  “There, I’m close to tipsy with you. Now, what’s the problem? Is the sex awful?”

  Choking on my drink, I look to Piper, wide-eyed.

  “Thought so.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  No response, only eyes peering at me over the champagne flute.

  “Fine. I hate you, ya know.”

  “No, you don’t, but you’re dying to confess so go ahead, my child. Confess your sins.”

  “Oh, you’re a priest now? Whatever, I’m not confessing anything. I just…”

  “Go on, my child,” she says, motioning her hand toward me. Flipping her off is the only response she’ll get from me.

  “I’m kidding. Come on, what’s wrong. I was joking, but really, are you having sex?” The word “sex” a whisper.

  “Did you just whisper?” Nod from Piper, eye roll from me.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Fill me up,” I say, motioning my glass toward the champagne bottle. “So, maybe I’ve had sex with Jameson.”

  “Before, yeah, I know.” Her tone leaves no room for interpretation.

  “Before? What do you mean, you know? And I’m supposed to be the sassy best friend in this relationship.”

  “Oh, you’re still the sassy one. Champagne makes you cry, it makes me sassy. Anyway, I don’t know, know, but I assume at some point in the last few years the two of you have had sex. That’s why you guys argue and bicker so much. All the sexual tension. It’s obvious. We all know.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but whatever. Anyway, may I continue?”

  She holds her glass up, granting permission, so I tell Piper about our agreement. About the night we went out, the tequila, my reaction to Beth, and the sex. All of the sex. She’s far too interested in Jameson’s body and the sex. It’s weird.

  “You have some weird interest in Jameson’s body. What gives?”

  “Honestly?”

  “No, lie to me.”

  “Shut up. Okay, so you know how I told you about those books I read a few months ago? The ones with the male strippers?”

  “Yes, I remember. And no, I’m not going to read some book about a male stripper. It’s weird. Give me a story with a dead body and I’m in.”

  “I told you the author also writes a series about murders. You’re so judgmental. Romance isn’t what it used to be. I mean, if you can write a book about male strippers that makes you want to be a better person, it’s legit. Plus, now you can stalk authors on social media and covet their pink hair and nobody cares. It’s fantastic.”

  “Pink hair?” Nodding enthusiastically, I recognize the look of excitement in Piper’s eyes. She is serious about wanting me to read these books. “Still not interested. What does this have to do with Jameson?”

  Turning to face me and pulling her knees up so she’s kneeling on the couch, Piper looks positively giddy.

  “So, there are two books. I thought the first one was hot and I was like ‘that’s my new book boyfriend,’ but then I read the second one. I had all the swoons. And, maybe, during some of the book I envisioned Jameson as the character. If you tell your brother I will murder you. You’ll be featured in one of those books you like to read. I swear to God, Ashton!”

  The laughter barrels out of me. I can’t help it. This is the most ridiculous conversation ever. Not because Piper has weird taste in books, I won’t say awful because truthfully now I may have to read the damn thing, but because Jameson as a male stripper would be hot. Her next comment pulls me from a daydream of Jameson ripping off his pants.

  “You like him.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you like him. Dare I say you care about him?”

  “He’s my friend. With some benefits.”

  “No, no. This is more,” she says adamantly while shaking her head. “Oh. My. God! Ashton Marie Sullivan!” The shouting is out of control. Taking the enthusiasm down a few levels, Piper continues, “Are you in love with Jameson?”

  “I…” Pausing before I answer her question, I contemplate my answer. I’m not certain I know. I care about him, sure. I think about him being with other women and I want to scream and plot their demise. When we’re getting along, we have fun together and laugh. We’ve been friends most of our lives so the history is always there. If I continue to pretend he didn’t bail like a sinking ship four years ago, then I may like him.

  “No, I am not in love with him.”

  “Hmm … Okay, if you say so. Here,” she says, pouring another glass of champagne. How big is this bottle? “We need more champagne for this conversation.”

  “One of us has to drive.”

  “We’ll call your brother,” she declares, dumping the empty bottle upside down in the ice

  bucket. “Hold that thought, I’m going to try on another dress before they realize I’m done shopping.”

  Waving over the consultant, Piper stands and slightly stumbles on her way to the dressing room. “Oh! You should totally try on a dress, Ashton!”

  “Pipe, I am not trying on a wedding dress. That’s weird and bad luck or something.”

  A fit of giggles later and Piper looks at me, serious, “No. A Maid of Honor dress. I want us to stand side by side and take a picture. Come on. Try it on, please?” Dragging out the last part of her question, Piper looks at me with puppy dog eyes.

  Before I’m able to respond, I hear a voice behind me that instantly puts me on alert.

  “Well, isn’t this adorable. Pathetic Piper trying on wedding dresses. How quaint.”

  Not this bitch. Felicity Remington-Thorne, the hyphen important in her world. The bane of Piper’s existence and a royal bitch to all. She moved back to town last year with her mini me in tow and a little boy that Piper swears is adopted because he’s so far from the horrid human his mother is, there’s no other answer.

  Standing and turning toward Felicity, I glare as Piper responds to her.

  “Hey, Felicity. Fancy seeing you here. I’m shopping for a wedding dress, what are you doing?”

  “Oh, did someone pity you enough to take the plunge, Piper? Did you swipe left or whatever it is?”

  Bitch.

  “You know she’s marrying my brother, you wretched bitch. Why don’t you keep walking?”

  “Why, Ashton Sullivan, drunk this early in the day? Surely even you aren’t that trashy.”

  “Fuck you, Felicity.” My anger is off the charts. I could seriously go WWE on this bitch, if I was a fighter. I’m not. I like to cut with words.

  “I’m sure your mother would be disappointed to hear you speaking that way. I always thought your mother was a kind woman; you shouldn’t embarrass her like this.”

  “My mother would be disappointed you’re such a wretched bitch and acting like a fourteen-year-old mean girl. Get going and leave us alone, this is Piper’s day.”

  So maybe that’s a little crass and my mother would be disappointed in my response. But hell, this is Piper’s day, and it feels fantas
tic to be bitchy for two minutes. I’m not a good person, I recognize this.

  “Whatever, I don’t have time for these childish games.” Dismissing us with a wave of her hand and a flip of her hair, Felicity walks away.

  I drop myself to the couch and Piper joins me. The consultant must recognize we need a few minutes because she excuses herself to get the dress Piper wants me to try on. Turning my head toward Piper, we look at each other for a quick second before we both start laughing.

  “I really hate her.”

  “Yeah, me too. What’s her deal with you anyway?”

  “I think she has a thing for your brother. It’s weird because she’s married but each time we see her at a school function she can’t wait to get next to him. It’s borderline stalker and creeps me out.”

  “She’s a bitch and we should avoid her at all costs. I can’t be responsible for what I do.”

  “Agreed. So, this sex with Jameson…”

  “Let it go, Piper. I need to end it. It’s getting too complicated.”

  “Why? Because you’re not ready to admit you have feelings?”

  “Don’t you have a dress you want me to try on?”

  “Squee! Yes!”

  “Did you actually say ‘squee’? Like it’s a word and not a reaction?”

  “Leave me alone, I’ve been champagning! Now let’s get you in that dress! Where’s my phone?”

  Rummaging through her phone, Piper pulls it out of her purse victoriously. Shortly thereafter, the consultant motions for me to join her in a nearby dressing room. Hanging on the door is a beautiful plum gown. Damn my sister-to-be and her good taste.

  Hope and I had a great time at the zoo and she quickly fell asleep in the truck on the way back home. Settling her in bed, I start doing a few mundane chores before kicking back in my recliner. Ben texted me earlier that he was going to stop by while Piper was out shopping with Ashton. I haven’t necessarily been avoiding Ben since Ashton and I made our agreement, but I haven’t been seeking him out either. I’m not necessarily a super private person but I’m also not about to talk to my best friend about sleeping with his sister.

  A tap at the front door alerts me to his arrival. Taking a place on the couch, Ben props his feet up on the coffee table.