The Slade Brothers: A Complete Small Town Contemporary Romance Collection

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The Slade Brothers: A Complete Small Town Contemporary Romance Collection Page 62

by Alexis Winter


  I shake my head. “Sounds like him.”

  “So, what have you been doing since high school? Date any sexy guys?”

  I roll my eyes. “There have been a few, but no one worth talking about.”

  “Speaking of sexy guys, I saw Wyatt today. He came in and grabbed a coffee and some breakfast.”

  My mouth drops open. “You what?”

  “Wyatt. He’s here. Funny, isn’t it?”

  “How is that funny again?”

  She shrugs as she continues to eat her fries. “It’s just that you ran off long ago. It seemed like he waited around a bit, working at the brewery and building his house. Then it was like he realized you weren’t coming back. So he left and has been gone . . . until you showed up. It’s fate. I mean, how else would you explain it?”

  I grunt. “If it’s fate, then I think that bitch has a fucked-up sense of humor.”

  My words cause her to bust out laughing. Her fit of giggles prompts one in myself.

  When our laughing dies down, she takes on a more serious edge. “You haven’t talked to him at all since high school?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head once.

  “You haven’t even looked him up online?”

  I bite my lower lip. “That I have done. Seems to me he’s better off. I mean, if we’d stayed together, where would we be right now? We probably would’ve gotten married way too young, had kids way too young, learned we actually hated each other, and gotten divorced. But look what happened. He went off to travel the world, and I . . . I went to college, got a degree, and lived in Seattle for a little while. Point is, we managed to get out of this town, see some of the world, and become independent. Things worked out for the better.”

  She gives me a sidelong glance. “Or you two could’ve done all those things together.”

  I shrug. “Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. None of that matters.”

  “So if you happen to run into him while you’re both in town, what do you see happening?”

  “That won’t happen,” I state matter-of-factly.

  She smiles. “I don’t know. It might. It is a small town after all.”

  “Other than tonight, I plan on being at my parents’ place most of the time. I doubt I’ll run into him there.”

  “It could be the market, the doctor’s office, the post office. Fate always finds a way.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, do me a favor. If you see him coming, point him out so I can run away. I don’t have it in me to deal with him.”

  Even though I say the words, I know I don’t mean them. Wyatt is intoxicating. He’s charming, smooth, and sexy as hell. He knows how to play me. If he had his sights set on me, he wouldn’t give up, and I know I’d eventually give in. I never could deny that man. Even when I found him kissing Julie during prom, I nearly forgave him, but my broken pride wouldn’t allow it. It’s been so long now that all that remains is the way I feel about him. Sure, I’m still pissed at the whole situation and I’m not sure what to believe, but that’s pushed to the back of my mind. Since prom, my life has been a constant struggle between my head and my heart. The decision was made for me when I left for college. And now, the decision is back on the table and I have no idea how to choose.

  Julie and I finish our dinner and head for the bar. Friday night means the place isn’t completely dead, but it’s a small town, so there still isn’t much of a crowd. There are a couple of guys in the back, playing a game of pool, and a group of middle-aged men crowding around the dartboard. The bar has a few stools occupied, but no one’s together judging by the random empty stools between them. There are also a few couples sitting and having drinks at the tables. Loud country music fills the building, and the bass makes my chest vibrate.

  Julie grabs my wrist and pulls me up to the bar to place our orders. “What’s your poison?” she asks.

  “Just a beer,” I reply, certain they don’t have any of the ingredients for the drinks I’d normally have in the city.

  “Two beers and two shots of tequila,” she orders.

  “Tequila?” I ask, bumping my shoulder into hers. “You remember our last tequila night?”

  She laughs and nods. “Well, you know what they say . . .”

  “What?” I ask, suddenly confused.

  “The song. ‘Tequila makes her clothes fall off,’” she quotes.

  I giggle. “Really? That’s a song?”

  She nods. “Yes! Where have you been, under a rock?”

  I laugh so hard I snort. “No! I’ve been in the city, where country music makes our ears bleed.” I’ve never been a fan of country music, despite the way I was brought up. Most people in this town have country music and beer running through their veins. That was one thing Wyatt and I always agreed on: rock music, the harder the better. I have to admit, I was completely jealous when I saw he was a roadie for The Screaming Elephants. They’re not a big group yet—not mainstream—but they’ve been on the indie scene for years.

  Our drinks are handed over and we pick up our shots. “To years of friendship,” she says, clanking her glass on mine.

  We both toss the shots back, chasing them with our beer. She lets out a squeal like she’s a drunk girl on spring break. I glance at her as heat floods my cheeks.

  “What? Someone needs to liven this place up,” she laughs out.

  The bartender comes over and points at her. “You cause another riot in here and I’ll kick your ass myself.”

  Julie shows her the palms of her bands and sits on the barstool.

  “What? How did you start a riot?”

  “It was years ago. And I mean, riot?” She frowns. “Look at this place. How big a riot could it have been?”

  She’s got a point there. “Either way, what did you do?”

  She tips back her beer and takes a long sip. “Back when Mark and I were together, before we had little Jimmy, we came in here one Saturday night. I was still waiting tables and he was between jobs, so we were both stressed out and looking to blow off some steam. We got hammered and started acting crazy. You know how we were. One of us drunk by ourselves wasn’t bad, but the two of us drunk together was the equivalent of fire and gasoline. Anyway, we were out on the dance floor, and I thought it’d be a good idea to dance on top of a table. So I climbed up on that corner table in my six-inch heels and miniskirt. Mark was totally into it; he was never the jealous type. In fact, he liked watching men hit on me all night. It really got him going, knowing he was going to be the one to take me home.”

  “All right, maybe I don’t need to know this story,” I joke.

  She playfully smacks me. “No, nothing like that. Anyway, I was up there dancing, having the time of my life. When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t just Mark in front of me. It was the whole bar! Men, women, it didn’t matter. They were all drunk and enjoying the energy of the bar. Then some drunk guy reached out and grabbed my ankle. I was drunk, in heels, and on a wobbly table, so I fell. Mark was pissed, and not just because the man touched me, but because I could’ve been hurt. So they got into a fight. Then it was like the whole bar turned on itself. Everyone was fighting. People were throwing pool balls, breaking cue sticks over each other’s backs, throwing barstools, and pushing tables. It was a bad night.”

  Her eyes are as big as silver dollars, but her smirk is still there, shining on like always. “Anyway, them’s in my wild days. I don’t act like that anymore. I’m a perfect little lady now,” she drawls out in her fake Southern accent.

  I laugh until tears form in my eyes. “You? A lady?” I snort when I start laughing too hard.

  “Hey!” she acts offended. “I am a lady, dammit. A lady who needs another shot!” she yells to the bartender.

  The bartender walks over and begins to fill our glasses again. “Seriously, I will kick your ass. Just keep that in mind.”

  Julie smiles sweetly but picks up her shot and throws it back.

  An hour passes, and before I know it, I’m perfectly buzzed. Not too drunk, but also drunk en
ough to find everything funny. Julie and I talk like no time has passed at all. She’s still my opposite in every way. She’s wild and crazy, even when she isn’t drunk, but it makes for some good stories. I finish off what must be my fourth beer when I feel a change in the atmosphere. It’s like the air suddenly grows thick, like it’s charged with electricity. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, goosebumps prickling my skin. My lungs feel like they’re having to work harder to take in oxygen, and my heart is in a sudden race. I look up at Julie and concern etches her face.

  “What?” she asks.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” I mumble, beginning to look around the bar. “Something’s different.” Nothing seems to have changed. There are still two men playing pool, the same group hangs around the dartboard, and the same random men sit around the bar. I spin my chair to the right and my eyes land on him. Wyatt. He’s just walked in the door and is making his way to the bar. He hasn’t noticed me yet, or maybe he has and he’s acting like he hasn’t.

  I spin my back to him, looking at Julie with wide, fearful eyes. “What do I do?” I whisper, even though there’s no chance of him hearing me over the loud country music.

  She smiles wide. “It is fate.” She latches onto my arm to drive her point home.

  I roll my eyes, sick of her fate talk already. “I’m being serious, Jules.”

  “Go talk to him,” she urges.

  “What? No way!”

  “Why not?”

  I shake my head, suddenly scared to move—fearing I’ll draw attention to myself. “Order us more drinks,” I tell her. “I’m going to need to be drunk for this.”

  It’s a small town and an even smaller bar. It’s only a matter of time before he notices me. Even getting up and leaving would draw attention to myself. Julie orders us two more beers and two shots.

  “Make it four. Four shots,” I tell her.

  Her eyes double in size as she laughs, but she does as I ask.

  When our drinks arrive, I pick up a shot and toss it back. I pick up the second and do the same, chasing it with ice-cold beer. I know it hasn’t had time to kick in yet, but I already feel a little stronger, less afraid. I finally decide to let it go. If he comes over, he comes over. If he doesn’t, then that’s fine. I’m not going to let worry ruin my good time.

  Julie and I start talking again like nothing has changed. For a moment, I even forget he’s sitting there. I’ve chanced a glimpse at him a time or two, but he seems content talking to the man at his side. He hasn’t even looked my way.

  I excuse myself to go to the restroom, and when I spin my barstool around and stand up, I bump into something hard. Wyatt’s chest.

  Five

  Wyatt

  I spot her the moment I walk into the bar, but I see the panicked look she gives Julie, so I decide to wait. I order a glass of whiskey and she orders enough to sedate a lion. I watch with amusement as she throws back the liquor and mentally prepares herself for the moment I approach her. She won’t come to me—I know that. Instead of rushing into this, I opt to take my time and enjoy her squirming. Destiny and Julie talk and laugh like old times. I wonder if she’ll welcome me the same way. Somehow, I highly doubt it.

  As I put away another glass of whiskey and order another, I make small talk with the gentleman I happened to sit next to. Finally, she seems to be at ease, like she’s tricked herself into forgetting I’m here. I stand from my seat and walk over to her side of the bar. Just as I’m about to interrupt their conversation, she stands and walks right into my chest, knocking me back a step, but I steady her by placing my hands on her biceps.

  I flash her the smile she could never resist. “Whoa, you’ve always been graceful. I see that hasn’t changed,” I tease, letting my burning hands fall away. It’s nice to know the tingle I always got from touching her hasn’t left.

  Her eyes double in size and her mouth is left hanging open. She quickly wipes her surprised expression away and replaces it with a fake, friendly smile. “How ya doin’, Wyatt?”

  I look her up and down. I almost need to bite my fist. That. Fucking. Dress. It shows her long arms, her thin neck, her bulging chest, and her long, tan legs. “Good. How you been?”

  She nods. “Good.”

  There’s a long silence between us, so Julie turns around. “Wyatt, why don’t you join us for a round or two? Catch us up on what’s been going on in your life.”

  I shoot her a grin. “Don’t mind if I do,” I say, sliding onto the empty barstool next to Destiny.

  “You going somewhere, sweetheart?” I ask, looking up at her.

  She forces a smile onto her face. “Nope,” she says, sitting back down.

  “So, Wyatt, where ya been all this time?” Julie asks, clearly trying to force us to talk to each other.

  “I’m more interested in where Destiny here has been, and why she refused all of my calls.”

  She snorts. “You know why I refused your calls. Don’t act like your time away has affected your memory.” She picks up her beer and takes a long drink.

  “My memory is just fine.” I swirl the liquid in my glass. “In fact, I remember many nights we spent locked away in that old treehouse of mine. You remember that?”

  She refuses to turn her head to look at me, but I see her eyes roll to stare at me from the corners. She grinds her teeth slightly, causing her angular jaw to flex with tension.

  I lean in. “What do you say we go check it out? See if it’s still standing,” I whisper low in her ear.

  Her back stiffens. “That thing could burn to the ground for all I care,” she spits out.

  “And have all our best memories go up in flames?” Clearly, I’m teasing her, trying to get her to feel something from the past.

  “They already did. Prom night, remember?” She holds up her bottle, motioning for another.

  I shake my head. Damn her. Here I am playing checkers, and she’s playing chess. I need to get her on the dance floor and hold her against me—where she can’t deflect. “To be fair, there’s not much from that night I do remember. In fact, all I remember is a single drunken honest mistake. No offense, Jules,” I add on, tilting my head enough to see her.

  Julie holds up her bottle in salute. “None taken.”

  I lean back in toward Destiny. “Come on, Des. We had a lot of good times. Like . . .” I wet my lips, drawing her eyes to them, “remember that time we snuck into your parents’ liquor cabinet, drank their best bottle of whiskey, and replaced it with water? What did we do that night?”

  “I don’t remember,” she lies.

  “Really? Because I seem to remember us having sex under the bleachers during a packed football game.” I smirk from the memory. “Before that, I’d never had a stadium cheer me on during sex . . . or after that, come to think of it,” I joke and her grin breaks free, even though she wipes it away as quickly as it appeared.

  “What about the time we decided to go skinny-dipping at the city lake?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope, nothing.”

  I lean over and look at Julie. “We got caught by the police. Oh, and we somehow managed to lose our clothes. So we had to ride home butt-ass naked in the back of the police cruiser. Boy, was her dad mad.”

  This time, a giggle slips out, but she silences it with a sip of beer.

  Julie laughs and smacks her arm. “Why didn’t I know about that?”

  Destiny shrugs. “It’s not exactly like I was proud of it. I didn’t tell anyone, and my dad bribed old Mr. Johnson to keep it out of the paper.” She smiles fully now.

  “There was also this one time when she got the bright idea to do a home bikini wax.” My eyes turn serious as I remember the pain. “But she needed practice first, so I, being the amazingly sweet guy I am, offered to be her test subject.”

  They both laugh out loud.

  I nod. “So there I am, lying on her bed, completely fucking naked. I have my legs all spread apart. All I remember is praying over and over as she comes closer with this
steaming bowl of hot wax.” Their laughs only get louder. “I just keep telling myself, ‘You’re going to score major brownie points with this, man. Just suck it up.’ So I did. She put this scalding hot wax on my area.” I motion toward my groin. “It burned like a son of a bitch. But I took some deep breaths and mustered through it. Then came the part where it had to be ripped off.”

  They’re both crying now as they laugh so hard they can barely catch their breath.

  “She doesn’t even warn me. She just rips it off, taking about seven layers of skin with it. I scream and swat her away. I’m thinking, ‘I just need to walk it off.’ So I get up to try pacing her floor, but multiple hairs are stuck to my leg with a little bit of wax, so every step is just another tug and another string of cuss words. By this point, she’s on the floor, just rolling with laughter. Then her dad comes banging on the door.”

  “Daddy walked in and saw Wyatt trying to get his clothes on, but every time he lifted his leg to put his pants on, he pulled out more hair. He was just tripping and cussing, and all I could do was laugh. Daddy was so confused and angry, but it was funny because he was laughing too. He had no idea what was going on.” Destiny finishes the story and finally, I feel like I’ve gotten through to her on some level.

  I can’t do anything but watch as she laughs. She’s so beautiful, she steals my breath. Her eyes are bloodshot from drinking, but they’re the clearest blue I’ve ever seen, and they’re glistening with happiness. Her lips are a deep red and they’re turned up in the corners. Her chest is bouncing from laughter. Seeing her this happy and carefree makes my heart long to feel hers beating next to it. My body is begging me to reach out and touch her—even something innocent, like brushing a hair from her cheek or running my hand down her arm.

  I finish off my whiskey and motion for another as silence settles over us. I’m watching her out of the corner of my eye when I see her turn her head toward me. Her eyes start at the top of my head and go lower, down my body. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. I know she’s remembering our good times, and maybe even wondering how things would be between us now.

 

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