by Evie Nichole
“Slow down there, cowboy,” Cody muttered. “You’ve gone through half that bottle in less than five minutes.”
“I need plenty to keep me from feeling anything.” Met could tell he was slurring his words. He felt as though he were on the verge of passing out. He was aware that he had to drive, but surely if he just sat here until the bar closed he would be sober enough to get home.
“Hate to tell you, brother,” Cody drawled. “But that’s pretty damn bad for you. Your liver or something.”
“What liver?” Met hollered as he lifted yet another glass to the rafters. His vision was blurring now. “I think a bull stomped that right out of my back before I turned twenty.”
“Whoa there.” Cody had to reach across the counter to catch Met by the arm and keep him from plunging off the stool and hitting the floor. “I think I’d better call Laredo.”
“Not Laredo.” Met pointed at Cody and accidentally spilled his drink on the bar. Met tried to shake his head from side to side to indicate just how bad it would be for Cody to call Laredo. “Laredo is sober now. You know? Those sober people don’t know how to appreciate drunkenness.” At least that was what Met thought he said. It was possible that those words did not all come out sounding like he wanted them to. His lips and tongue weren’t moving right. They felt stuck.
“All right, buddy.” Cody did not sound like Met ever remembered him sounding. His voice was all wrong. And Cody leaned across the bar and picked up the bottle of bourbon. “I think you’re done.”
“What?”
“Man, as much as I love you, I can’t sell you any more liquor. You’re drunk. There are laws against that.” Cody wagged his finger in Met’s face. “I’ll lose my liquor license.”
“I don’t think I can be a bartender.” Met flopped down on the bar. The wood was cool under his cheek. “I would drink until I passed out and forget to serve anyone.”
“I could actually believe that.” Cody was laughing. “So, who do I call, Met? Darren? Cisco?”
“Oh God, not Cisco.” Met was moaning now. “Darren is good. Darren used to drink.”
“Used to?” Cody snorted. “What is wrong with you Hernandez boys? I should call your pops. He still drinks. In fact, the man can close the bar and still walk a straight line.”
“He cheats.” A huge burp slipped out of Met’s mouth. Wow. He was really classy right now.
“How does he cheat?” Cody was dialing the cordless phone.
Met burped again. Was he actually in danger of vomiting? Hopefully he wouldn’t do something stupid like that. His steak had been far too good to waste like that. Then he remembered Cody had asked him a question. What was he talking about? Right. His father’s cheating.
“My father puts ice cubes in his alcohol,” Met burst out suddenly. “That’s cheating. He’s watering it all down.”
“Right.” Cody bobbed his head up and down. Then suddenly he was talking to someone else. “Yeah. You need to come get him. I can’t let him leave.”
“What?” Met shouted.
He was staring at the ceiling. How had he managed to look at the ceiling? Where was he anyway? He should be on the barstool. His cheek had been on the bar. The wood felt good. Or at least it had. He wasn’t lying there anymore. He was somewhere else entirely. It was cold and hard at least. Except the hard part was hurting his hip now. Why did he even feel that? He shouldn’t even realize that discomfort was a thing. He should have been able to climb on another bronc.
The thought made him nauseous. Met rolled onto his side and retched. He took a deep breath and swallowed. He did not want to throw up. He hated that feeling. It was disgusting. Not to mention the taste. How could things that tasted so good going down taste so very horrible on the way back up?
At least thinking about vomit made him stop thinking about Widowmaker. The big black devil horse had been born and bred on the same ranch where Met had started his life. It seemed poetic that one of the broncs bred so carefully by his own brothers had been the horse to end Met’s career. Sometimes if Met closed his eyes he could still feel the animal’s hoof digging into his right shoulder. That had been the last straw for his body. That shoulder injury had rendered his arm and his hand incapable of holding tight enough to the rigging to stay on the horse. If it had been his left shoulder, he would have still been able to compete. He wouldn’t have been useless. Met could almost believe his eldest brother, Cal, had whispered in that damn horse’s ear and told it to end his career.
“Hey, baby brother, you ready to blow this place and go sleep it off at home?”
Who the hell was that? Met managed to flop onto his back and stare up toward the ceiling. Only he could not see the pressed patterned tin ceiling of Cody’s anymore. Now all he could see was a familiar face looming over him like some kind of heavenly messenger.
“Darren,” Met grunted. “At least he didn’t call Laredo.”
Somewhere behind him, Met heard Cody’s laughter. Then Darren grabbed Met’s left arm and began pulling him up off the floor. Met wasn’t surprised that Darren knew not to grab the right side. Darren had a blown knee from his football career. If anyone knew what it was like to have an injury that completely altered your way of life, it was Darren.
Somehow, Darren had made things work though. Met could not help but think that it was probably due to the fact that Darren hadn’t destroyed himself so completely. Football was not bull and bronc riding. A three hundred pound linebacker did not do the same amount of damage as a two thousand pound bull or a twelve hundred pound horse.
“Damn, little brother,” Darren grunted. “Either I need to start working out or you’ve gained some weight.”
“You need to work out,” Met mumbled. “You’re completely wimping out as Gym Teacher Man.”
It was funny to Met that they all called Darren that as though it was his superhero name. Maybe it was, in a way. And maybe the reason they all called him that was that they were secretly jealous. Darren had found his own niche that had little to nothing to do with the Hernandez Land & Cattle Company.
“Yeah, probably.” Darren did not sound as though he particularly cared. “I’ve been doing kiddie workouts for a few months now. Maybe I need to do the grown-up version during my lunch break.”
“You’ve been working out on Maggie!” Met did not know why he found that so hilarious. “Bow chicka wow wow!”
“Dude, I’m going to dump you on your head if you do that again.” Darren sounded distinctly pissed off all of a sudden. Then he cranked his head around. “Cody, can you get the damn door?”
Wait. Was Darren actually carrying him? Dammit. Met could barely even process what was happening. He knew his body was sort of hanging. He had not realized that he was currently slung over his brother’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry. That was just embarrassing!
“I can walk,” Met assured his brother.
“Oh, really?” Darren stepped back to let Cody open the door. “So, a few seconds ago, when I pulled you off the ground, do you remember almost falling back onto your ass?”
“Uh. No.”
“Exactly.” Darren moved out of the bar.
The cool air was reviving, but it didn’t make Met feel any better. In fact, it made him feel a little bit worse. As in he felt as though he were honestly in danger of puking all over the place.
“I have my truck,” Darren informed Met. “And if you puke inside it, I’m going to tell Dad that you’re the one who made it necessary for me to trade this in and make the company take a loss on it.”
“Screw you,” Met slurred.
But then he really had to press his lips together and squeeze his eyes shut when Darren flung Met into the air in order to get him upright and on his feet once more. The dizzying sensation of flight was enough to make Met feel genuinely ill. He choked and gagged but managed not to throw up. He didn’t want to. That was a big deal. It was.
“Oh God.”
Met bent at the waist as the overwhelming urge to vomit overcame h
im. He retched and heaved there in the gravel parking lot a few feet away from Darren’s truck. Reaching out, he grabbed whatever was close enough to keep him from falling face-first into the mess. It took almost a minute to realize that he was holding tight to the rear wheel well of Darren’s white truck.
“I didn’t puke in your truck,” Met pointed out as he managed to stand up. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “You got any vodka or anything?”
Darren shook his head and sighed. “No. I don’t have a bottle of vodka stashed in my truck. Because, unlike you, I don’t have a drinking problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.” Met felt extremely tired of people telling him this. “It’s just pain management.”
“That’s not a long-term solution, little brother.”
“Laredo had a drinking problem,” Met shot back defensively.
Darren nodded. Then he opened the passenger door of his truck. “Yes. Our older brother did, in fact, have a drinking problem. He is currently sober. I think he will remain that way unless Aria leaves him high and dry, which will probably not happen because she’s a better woman than that.”
That got Met thinking about Daphne. For some reason, he could not stomach the thought of her finding out that he had gone back into the bar after she left only to get so drunk that Cody had to call Darren to come and fetch him, and then he’d puked up his dinner in the parking lot. That wasn’t the way the Met wanted Daphne to think of him. Plus, he had a feeling that would only increase her bad opinion of him.
“Let’s get you to bed, little brother.” Darren went around to the driver’s door and climbed into his truck. “I need to get back home to my sweet Maggie and my little boy.”
Met knew that Darren hadn’t meant anything by that statement, but it was hard not to feel like a total loser knowing that he was going “home” to his borrowed empty house full of the trappings of a successful life that his eldest brother didn’t even want anymore. Failure upon failure piling up until there was nothing left in Met’s life but the bottom of a bottle.
Chapter Nine
Daphne stood in front of the big window in her office and watched the sun rise over the Rockies. Sometimes she forgot just how beautiful it was here in Denver. They were truly blessed with the best scenery in the world and weather that was second to none. Here it was at the end of May, and even though the days were balmy, the nights were cool and the mornings were still almost downright cold.
Soon enough, it would be time for everyone else to come in for work. For some reason, she had missed her morning workout. She had been awake, but she just hadn’t felt like going to the gym. So, she had come to work instead. It was quiet when she was here this early in the morning. Sometimes it felt like this was the best time to get things done. She had already sent over a dozen e-mails about the possibility of finding several good human interest story opportunities for Met Hernandez.
Wandering back toward her desk, Daphne picked up her coffee and took a sip. The bitter flavor burst on her tongue and made her feel awake and alive. She put her hand on the mouse and moved a few things around on her computer screen. The layout of this particular ad still wasn’t right. It didn’t give off the vibe she was going for. A few more mouse clicks had it though.
That was one of the things that Daphne liked so much about her job. She put people into their best light. Even when the whole world thought that they were the devil, Daphne got to focus on the good. She polished it, amplified it, and then she showed it to everyone.
“You’re here so early, and yet you stayed so late. It begs the question of whether or not you ever went home. Don’t you think?”
Daphne jerked to attention as she looked up to find Justin hovering once again in her doorway. He did not belong there. Every warning bell in her head was jangling at full volume, and she could not imagine what this man wanted.
“Good morning.” Justin stepped into her office and suddenly pulled a huge bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. “I brought you something. I wanted to leave them on your desk. You know, to apologize for the misunderstanding last night.”
Daphne swallowed. Her skin was crawling with unease. She knew this was all wrong. Everything was all wrong. She could not offend him. She could not afford to when there was nobody else here to save her. She could not count on Met to suddenly show up once again to save the day. This time it was all up to Daphne.
“Thank you, Justin.” She stood up but kept her desk between them. “I really appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure you had anything to apologize for.”
“You seemed angry at me last night.” His eyes narrowed. He had certainly pulled out all the stops on his wardrobe and his hair product this morning. His slacks were pressed within an inch of their life, and his hair was slicked back and looked almost wet with the amount of product he’d put in it.
“I wasn’t angry.” She struggled to find her next words. They were so important. Her palms were sweating, and her heart was pounding in her chest. She could hardly breathe. She was so frightened without knowing precisely why.
“I want us back together, Daphne.” Justin walked closer. He was still carrying the flowers. “I know you know that I didn’t mean a lot of those things I said after we broke up.”
“No?” She kept her voice mild. She wanted to scream. The sun was now hitting the glass of her window and seemed to fill her office with a golden glow. “It’s hard to believe you weren’t sincere, considering the very serious smear campaign you started right here in the office.”
“Those things”—he waved a hand dismissively as though none of that mattered—“weren’t said by me.” He was nodding his head as though he actually expected her to buy what he was selling. “There was another woman down in accounting who had designs on a relationship with me. She started a lot of rumors about you in an effort to make sure that you and I didn’t get back together.”
“Oh, really?” Daphne nodded her head as though she were actually giving this bullshit some credence. “And so she was spreading rumors about me? How awful that must have been for you!”
“It was!” He was all astonishment. “You have no idea how awful it is to hear someone slander a woman that I loved just because she wanted so badly to take your place.”
“And so you eventually went out with her, right?” Daphne pulled her brows together as though she were trying to think about this instead of knowing absolutely that it was true. None of Justin’s movements after their breakup were secret to her. He had made certain to let Phyllis and Ruth know every single detail, which they had of course passed along. “I mean, you probably felt like you had no choice, and I’m sure she hid her true nature from you.”
“She did.” He was nodding his head. Justin walked forward a few more feet and rested his hip against her desk. “It was very pathetic.”
“Oh, absolutely pathetic.” Daphne could feel her anger rising. She was so sick and tired of this jerk trying to make her life miserable. It had been years since they’d first met, and he had been so accommodating and attentive. Then, when she had broken things off nearly nine months ago, he had turned into the biggest asshole on earth. “The thing I can’t understand is how she could know so many personal things about me, Justin. There were some pretty embarrassing things floating around this office. People seemed to know what kind of expressions I have during sex. They were talking about the fact that I apparently smell bad in an intimate and personal way. And they were all telling me that you were the one talking about it.”
“It was all lies, baby,” Justin murmured. “You know how people will lie to keep two people apart when they belong together.”
“I’m more inclined to think that you were pissed off because I broke it off with you and you wanted to win the breakup!” Daphne was suddenly and completely done with this. She pointed to her door. “Please. Leave. I want you out of my office. I do not want to see you back up here unless you are required to speak to me for some official company reason. And if you do
n’t go right now, I’m going to call security.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” He slammed the flowers down so hard on her desktop that the buds exploded.
Petals and leaves flew into the air and sprayed across her computer keyboard. Daphne refused to back down. She set her jaw and remained firm. What could he do? He could not physically assault her. And if he tried, she was a whole lot more in shape and capable of fighting him off than she had been back when they had been a couple. He had abused her then, emotionally and physically, but since then, she had grown. Daphne was a survivor, and she would be damned before she allowed him to take that power back from her.
“Your tantrum isn’t going to get you anywhere, Justin.” Daphne narrowed her eyes and pointed at the door. “Get. Out. Now.”
“You’re making a huge mistake with that ridiculous cowboy,” Justin told her snidely. “He’s a loser. And when I tell the whole company that I caught the two of you having sex in your office, it won’t matter what you think anymore.”
She refused to react. It would only let him score a point. If he actually spread that rumor, she could hope that her boss would know that she wasn’t that much of an idiot or a slut. This was Justin. He had kept her a prisoner for years with this bullshit line of threats and the cycle of violence and reconciliation.
Justin flung the bouquet at her and turned on his heel to leave. Of course, before he left, he tossed one last thought over his shoulder. “Did you tell your cowboy about your sexual preferences? He probably won’t be as lenient about your lack of skills as I was.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. Of all of the nasty side effects of being in a relationship with someone like Justin, he knew exactly where to hit to leave the biggest impact. He had spent the first six months of their relationship learning every single weakness she had, on the pretense of being the one who loved and cared about her the most. Once she believed that he was only trying to be warm and caring, she had spilled all of her secrets. He had spent every single second since turning those into weapons of mass destruction.