by Peyton Storm
If I could just talk him down off the ledge, maybe I could get a second to figure everything out. At that moment, though, all I wanted was a medium-rare ribeye and a hot shower to take the edge off a bit. Maybe I could even talk Dax into throwing back a few at the local watering hole if it still existed. Cane’s was already starting to lean and fall apart at the seams even before I left. For all I knew, the gulf had already swallowed it whole. Granted, I only really ever got a small glimpse at the inside. My fake ID sucked.
“Come on, Dax, it’ll take the edge off.”
“One beer. Two if it doesn’t taste like cat piss.”
Dax always had a way with words.
It’s funny how the mind works. I had spent the last few years forcing myself to forget. I wanted no part of this place nor any memory that came with it. I thought it had worked too. That is until we crossed over the bridge, hung a left, and then two rights later, Dax was taking the keys out of the ignition, and never once did I need to use GPS. Well, hell.
“Alright, Tack, best behavior. Even with that cap pulled low, you’re liable to be recognized. Shake hands, smile for pics and if at all possible, let’s not toss anyone over the bar. We good?”
Asshole.
“Yes, Miss Hanniga…ouch! Yeah, fine, let’s go.”
Unless a hurricane had hit that year, a Southeast Texas winter was pretty mild. I remembered how cool it would be in the dead of winter, yet I’d be shedding my hoodie by noon. I’d go to shove it in my locker, but at lunch, Pres would always snag it. It swallowed her whole and landed at her knees, but she said it was always freezing in Biology. It also happened to be her worst class, so I liked to think that maybe having a little piece of me with her helped to calm her nerves.
As we neared the club entrance, my skin began to tingle, and I quickly made sure to blame it on the chilly mist in the air instead of yet another memory of her.
It took a good ten minutes to get through the front door. Not because there was any kind of problem, I just happened to recognize the bouncer checking IDs. The burly bastard had played Center both my junior and senior years.
He talked about taking classes in Houston four days a week and then coming home for a long weekend. He made good money bouncing and spent most of it on his daughter, who, of course, turned out to be one of Presley’s dance students. Small Town, Texas.
I pulled my cap down a little lower and headed towards the bar. The bartender looked vaguely familiar, but I didn’t ask. Dax had grown quiet, so I ordered for him. Anything with a good head would do.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and when I followed his gaze...well, fuck was right. Yep, that pretty much summed it up. There they were, the love of my life, aka the pain in my ass, and the raging psycho who had grilled me at gunpoint. Again, fuck this small ass town.
I knew I had just seconds to toss my beer back before D was demanding we leave. It went down cold, just what I needed, but it would take double digits to take the edge off now. I threw down a bill, stood, and expected Dax to follow suit. Instead, he was still fixated on the two of them on the would-be dancefloor.
The bestie, Belle, okay yeah, fine. She was hot. Crazy, but hot and Dax seemed to be in complete agreement. But Presley…
Presley. Jesus Christ. Nope, I couldn’t go there. The way she moved...
I didn’t know what to say to Presley. I had zero regrets. In fact, I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue. Would it even work? Could it actually produce words at the moment? I wasn’t sure. Dax, however, seemed unable to look away. Well, shit.
Presley
I didn’t realize how much I needed this. To just let go, be carefree. What was it about the sound of the waves that someway, somehow overpowered the tunes spilling from the speakers, all with little to no effort?
One day I would own a little place on the beach. Right on the beach would be way out of my price range, but a little place within walking distance would do Paisley and I just fine. I’d save up a little longer, if necessary, to be able to hear the waves. It was a pipe dream, of course, but try telling that to my Pinterest board.
“Care to dance?”
There was really no polite way to say it and maintain acceptable distance, so his raised voice startled me at first. The guy was average in height with a stocky build and a warm smile. Not quite my type, but tonight wasn’t about that anyway. There was no denying his appeal, though. He had easy confidence about him, a local cowboy, or just in town with the rodeo perhaps.
Not one for Country music, I could still hold my own with the best of them. With a tip of his hat, we were on our way. He was good—scratch that, he was exceptionally good—and soon we drew a small crowd. The makeshift dance floor right off the deck was far from ideal, but the possibility of a splinter didn’t deter me.
“Name’s Colt,” he murmured, as he took my hand and pulled me close only to spin me away. Given the circumstances, we had to modify, but where we lacked in spins, we made up in lifts. We managed to sync so well, especially considering we had just met sixty seconds prior.
His smile was contagious, and the whoops and hollers from the small crowd looking on fueled us. It was exhilarating. Would I ever see this guy again after tonight? Probably not. But at that moment, I felt like me.
“Shall we continue?” he asked after the second, or was it the third song? When I hesitated, he took a different approach. “How ‘bout a refill?”
Belle and I wouldn’t be driving, so why not? Nice ass, I thought as he made his way towards the bar. With a mental shake, I reminded myself that my life, on any given day, was already a hot mess, and for the most part, I had settled with the idea that guys, dating, all of that would have to be placed on the backburner.
Paisley was the priority, and I always feared that my relationship with her father was confusing enough. Then there was Greyson, a whole ‘nother issue altogether. One that I never imagined Paisley would be witness to. She still wasn’t. I mean, she saw him in our living room just the one time. Nothing more, nothing less. He’d be long gone by the time she got home. No harm, no foul. Done and done.
Lost in my own head, I hadn’t realized Colt had returned with beers in hand.
“Wanna talk about it?” he offered, and I could feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment.
“I’m good, really. I should find Belle, at least let her know where I am.”
His smile broadened as he tipped his chin. I followed his gaze, and when I looked over my shoulder, there she was, smiling, dancing, the center of attention, and completely carefree. She smiled wide and waved, all the while never missing a beat.
“Cheers.”
And with the clink of our bottles, I got to know a little more about the cute cowboy who could dance his ass off. I was right, he was in town, though not for the first time, in from Oklahoma for the rodeo. When I asked how he landed this far south of town, I got the impression that it was complicated and much like myself, he wasn’t exactly jumping at the chance to explain it. That realization took the edge off. I had baggage. He had baggage, blah blah blah…cheers!
The driver dropped Belle off first, and as promised, I shot her a text once I got inside to let her know that I, too, had gotten home safely. Instead of just passing out on the couch, oddly enough, I got a second wind. A quick shower and the minute twenty-five it took to pop some corn later, I was in my favorite t-shirt, fuzzy socks, and Sex in the City reruns. Life was good.
Chapter 15
Greyson
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I should have, to preserve my mental health. I should have turned, walked away, and never looked back. Had she always been able to move like that? Had I been just that selfish, too self-absorbed and caught up in my own shit to fully appreciate who and what she truly was?
All eyes were on her, including my own, and though they stung at the sight, looking away was no longer an option. Cowboy was no
where near her equal, but it was the first time I had ever really seen her dance with someone who could even remotely keep up with her.
If I hadn’t had the sudden urge to rip his arms off, I would have walked around to get a better view of the spectacle. I had seen all I needed to, though, and so instead, I slipped back to the corner stool at the back of the bar and waited for it to end. I wouldn’t cause a scene, but she was throwing back quite a few drinks, and if that mother fucker even thought about crossing the line, I’d be there. It would likely cost me in the draft, but fuck it. He wouldn’t do one goddamn thing she didn’t want him to. I wasn’t sure what would be worse, if they continued to dance, his hands all over her…
Okay, fine, maybe he wasn’t groping, and maybe I was overreacting, but the sight of it all, innocent or otherwise, rubbed me the wrong way. Dax must have noticed the tick in my jaw cause my next drink, and each one after that, was water. Asshole asked for an umbrella in each one. Dick.
Mid gulp, as the guy continued to chat up Pres, it dawned on me that D still hadn’t pushed for us to leave. I filed that away for the time being.
I felt like such an ass for sitting there, watching their whole exchange. My pride had checked out for the night, and the smallest, most petty part of me needed to see her leave, head home, alone.
Dax drove us back to the hotel. He’d stopped after one drink. We rode in silence, and truth be told, that’s why we had always worked well together. He pushed, he nagged, and was forever riding my ass. At the same time, he knew when to leave it, to let it be, and to give me my space.
My mind was racing, and I didn’t want to try to explain it to him. I was grateful that I didn’t have to. What the fuck would I even say? It was all such a cluster fuck. That’s not to say that he wouldn’t bring it up later, ‘cause the bossy bastard would, no doubt.
The ride back felt like an eternity, not to mention suffocating. I’d rolled the window down, yet it still didn’t relieve the burning in my lungs. When the truck finally stopped, I hopped out and made a beeline towards the lobby.
“Tack!”
Shit. I guessed he wasn’t gonna let it slide after all. I spun on my heels, but before I could say anything, he held up the keys to his beloved Weezy.
“Do not speed. Lock ‘er up, and call if you need anything.”
Confused, I simply nodded and took the keys and headed back towards the parking lot.
“Oh, and Tack?”
Fuck. What now?
“Try not to piss her off this time. I don’t wanna have to call Doc again.”
Smartass.
After a quick stop at the gas station, I once again found myself at her doorstep. It was the middle of the night, but a faint light glimmered behind her blinds. My legs felt heavy, but I knocked anyway.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can I come in? I brought gummy bears.”
She was confused, and understandably so. I had made a habit of showing up at her door, unannounced and uninvited. She stood fresh-faced with her hair stacked at the top of her head. She wore a faded Nirvana t-shirt that swallowed her whole and bright red fuzzy socks with some sort of cartoon creature on them. Turtles, maybe?
The sight of her revealed two things. One, that her beauty was staggering, even now. She didn’t need all that shit on her face. She didn’t need to create any kind of illusion. Second, this was her signature I’m done for the night, let’s chill gear. Translation: no happy feet cowboy in sight.
She was cautious, a little hesitant even, but after pursing her lips in thought, she stepped aside and let me in. All those drinks she had tossed back still showed through her eyes, and I said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t regret me in the morning.
I suddenly felt awkward, self-conscious, and at a loss for words again. I heard her lock the door behind me, but I kept my back to her, unsure of what to do or even what to say next. A quick scan of the room told me I’d been right. She had a big bowl of popcorn and a bottle of dark red wine sitting on her coffee table. The lights were down low, and there was a weird little machine, like the one beside her bed, spitting mist into the air.
Still with my back to her, I braced myself for the string of questions that were sure to come. To my surprise, she didn’t say a word and instead walked around me, or should I say hobbled.
What the fuck? In that split second, my mind flashed with all the things I would do to a motherfucker who’d hurt her. Had that asshole been here? I didn’t want to frighten or upset her further, though gritting out my words through clenched teeth couldn’t have sounded even remotely soothing.
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she plopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote, and hit play. Umm, no.
I paused her chick flick and asked again. “Presley, what happened? Who did this?” When her eyes finally met mine, I urged her again. All I needed was for her to tell me what happened, what I could do for her, and of course…a name.
Finally, her lips parted, but did an explanation tumble out? No. Of course not. It started as a giggle but ended with a full-on howl. Head thrown back, the whole nine yards, and I’d bet my left nut she snorted.
“Calm down. It’s fine. I just rolled my ankle, that’s all. But how cute are you?”
Her howl simmered back down to a giggle, and as though nothing had even happened, she turned back to her TV show. I counted backward from ten, spun around, and stomped my way towards her kitchen. When I returned with a towel and a bowl of ice, she was back to giggling, but this time, not at my expense. Whatever was playing out on screen clearly amused her. That, or she really was piss ass drunk. I couldn’t be mad at her and tried hard to ignore the pinching in my chest at the sound and sight of her laughing. She was stretched out completely, leaving next to no room at the far end of the couch.
“Gimme,” I insisted, and while she didn’t look at me, she at least lifted her leg for me to place it on my lap. Her toenails were purple and glittery. It was cute, sexy…fuck. It was time to focus. She needed to be cared for, not lusted over.
The swelling was minimal but still noticeable. No telling what it would look like in the morning. She was an athlete; she knew better.
“Damn it, Presley. See! This is what happens when you try to do all that fancy shit barefoot and on a wobbly ass piece of plywood!”
I’d said too much. Her glossy eyes snapped to mine, and if possible, I would have kicked my own ass right then and there.
“Excuse me? And how would you know that? You stalking me now?”
She was furious. Her accusation stung, but I could understand where she was coming from. I held her foot in my hands as I explained myself.
“I...I was already there. I’d no idea you would be, too. When I spotted you, I don’t know, you were having fun, really enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to ruin it. It had been a while, ya know, since I’d seen you dance like that. I kept my distance, but…”
Before I knew what was happening, Presley had jumped up, straddled my waist, and brought us eye to eye.
“But what?” she breathed, and my hips lifted in response.
“But what?” she pressed, and I found myself digging my fingers deep into her hips to still her.
“Wait. You’re coming onto me!”
I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it was hard to think clearly with her sitting square on top of me.
“Maybe,” she cooed, and then took my bottom lip in between her teeth. God give me strength.
“That liquid courage is a bitch, huh, Pres?” I stammered as I lifted and firmly planted her, not so gracefully, on the other side of the couch. It was my turn to grab the remote. Oh, the irony.
Presley
The knock on the door in the middle of the night didn’t startle me. Belle was known for it. She knew I was a night owl, and Carrie and company reruns never got old. We’d stay up all nig
ht chatting away, and though I would be dead on my feet the next morning, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
My ankle hurt like a bitch. How could I have been so careless? I didn’t have any classes for the next couple of days, so I could only hope that would be enough time to heal. Right then, though, putting my weight on it was uncomfortable, to say the least. I didn’t want to think about how it was going to feel once I sobered up. Tomorrow would be brutal.
I wobbled my tipsy ass to the door, and it took me a moment to realize who and what was standing in front of me. I had spent years erasing the memory of him. How he would shift his weight from one foot to the other, so unsure, yet I’d never once turned him away. Tonight was no different.
He was nervous, but I was in no mood nor the right mind for anything too heavy, so I didn’t ask. He took up so much space in my small living room, and I tried to ignore the way his simple tee stretched across the span of his back. The short sleeves could barely contain his arms, and yet the fabric gathered a bit at his narrow waist. I didn’t succeed, mind you, but at least I tried.
Whatever. I needed to sit down.
There was no hiding my limp, and it was cute, sweet even, that he was so overly concerned. Why I burst out laughing instead of telling him so, I’ll never know. It was a question long forgotten once he shared a little too much.
My Greyson, Tack, would never spy on me. He’d never violate my privacy that way, no matter the circumstances. I had to remind myself that was years ago and that this guy wasn’t someone I knew. People changed, and it wasn’t always for the better.
He was quick to explain himself as he iced my ankle. The thing about small towns? We all know each other. I could check out his story if I really wanted to, but I knew he was telling the truth. He had watched me dance, laugh, and actually enjoy myself for once. Only he wouldn’t know what a rare occasion that was. He wouldn’t know that it had been months since I had a night out because most of the time, even when Paisley was with her dad, I worked. I picked up extra private classes, workshops, events, whatever I could find. Saving money wasn’t easy while raising a kid, but I had big dreams for the two of us, and touching her trust fund was never an option.