North Country was a relatively new country bar in the northeast. Opening one in an area as rural as the White Mountain region was risky, but country music had gained popularity at an amazing rate in this neck of the woods. Cole parked Emma’s car and, like a gentleman, opened both girls’ doors, offering an arm to both. Most likely he wanted to be seen strolling in with a woman hanging off each side, but the girls pretended to appreciate his chivalry. Weathered plank paneling, wagon wheel chandeliers, and giant rusted signs decorated the back walls. The main room housed a large Cheers bar. In the second space, a small stage for performances and a dance floor invited patrons to strut their stuff. In the corner, a man dressed like a country music star set up equipment. Kenny Chesney sang from the jukebox about the boys of summer.
A large game area had been added on out back. Currently, only one couple danced while a group of guys jostled each other around the pool table and ogled the three girls who were attempting to play a game of darts.
Cole led the girls to a tall pub table near the dance floor. “What can I get you ladies?”
“Margaritas. A pitcher if they have them. If not, two very large, very frozen margaritas,” Emma said as she scanned the bar, telling herself she wasn’t hoping to see anyone in particular. “This is cute,” she said to Paige.
“Yeah, if we don’t end up in the middle of a barroom brawl. Don’t look now but the Lone Ranger at the bar is giving you the stare down.”
Emma glanced at the bar where Cole was placing the order with the bartender. At the other end, a man sat by himself sipping what appeared to be a gin and tonic, and stared appreciatively in their direction. “No sweetpea, he’s checking you out.”
“As if.” Paige glanced over at him and quickly turned away when she made eye contact. “Crap. Busted.”
Emma laughed. “Told you.”
Cole placed two enormous margaritas in front of the girls and straddled the bar stool in between them. Sipping his long neck, he said, “No pitchers but big ass glasses. Cowboy at the bar has eyes for you gals.”
Emma laughed again. “Paige. He’s checking her out. Are you gonna play big brother and kick his ass or let the two actually hook up?”
“I won’t kick his ass yet, but I’ve got my eye on him.”
“Will you two stop? I’m not hooking up with him! He’s not even interested anymore. He’s staring straight ahead at the wall.”
“Wrong again, curls. He’s checking you out through the mirror behind the bar.” Cole chuckled.
Paige blushed and tucked a few unruly curls behind her ears. “Shut up. Both of you.” She attempted to hide her embarrassment behind her drink.
The solo act spoke into the mic and introduced himself as the Billy “The Bronco” Watson and picked up his guitar. “I have a feeling many of you out there can relate to this first song by Billy Currington.”
“Poptart, this is my song. Come dance with me.” He pulled a reluctant Emma onto the dance floor and held her tight as the entertainer sang, “I’m pretty good at drinking beer.”
“This is hardly a dancing song, Cole,” Emma said laughing at Cole’s silly attempt at a romantic dance. He twirled and dipped her as he sang along with the musician. He sang incredibly off-tune to another song about a sexy tractor, serenading her, and making her giggle when she didn’t think she had anything left to laugh about. The tears in her eyes almost prevented her from seeing a tall, dark man enter the bar.
Almost.
Emma stiffened. This was not the kind-hearted Mason she had gotten to know in the past few weeks. Looking hot in jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, Mason ambled toward Paige but kept his seedy stare focused on Emma. What in the world did I do to piss him off?
Oblivious to the attention he drew, Cole finished the song with a final dip of Emma, who was caught totally off guard. She stiffened, her foot slipping from under her, bringing Cole down on top of her. It wasn’t a graceful fall by any means, but Cole managed to laugh it off. She lay on her back, legs spread eagle, with Cole nestled in between.
“Hey. This is a family establishment. If you want to go back to my place, let me know.” He winked as he stood up and offered his hand, pulling Emma up. Unfortunately she didn’t share his humor. She wiped off her legs and butt, ran her hand down her hair and sauntered over to Paige and Mason, but mostly her margarita, with as much dignity as she could muster.
“You two put on quite the show.” Paige laughed.
The cold margarita felt good on her lips and down her throat. “Your cousin is an idiot,” she mumbled.
“Please.” Cole laughed. “You loved every minute of it. Glad you could make it, Mace.” Mason nodded, but his features didn’t soften much. “I’m gonna get a refill. Want a beer?” Mason nodded again, and Cole strolled to the bar.
“How many units of insulin did you have to do for that?” He nodded toward her nearly empty margarita.
“Oh crap.” Emma grabbed her pocketbook and went off in search of the ladies’ room. She found two sets of saloon doors. There were no signs, but the bra and panties hanging over one set of doors must have been for the girls. The other doors donned a pair of chaps and a cowboy hat.
Of course Mr. Personality reminded her of her duties. No, ‘Hey, Emma, how are you? You look hot. Want to dance?’ No, his first words were about her diabetes. Was that all she was to him? Did he feel an obligation to monitor her blood sugar and insulin? What irritated her most was that he was right; she completely forgot to check her sugar and give herself insulin. Emma sighed and washed her hands.
Pricking her finger wasn’t as daunting as it had been a few weeks ago. In a short amount of time, it had become almost routine. Tonight was her first night out since her diagnosis and she already failed. The one touch meter read 250. Emma muttered a curse and took out her pocket sized nutritional guide. Scrolling through alcoholic beverages she found margaritas. Twelve carbs in four ounces. Emma laughed. Her drink was about ten times that. Not sure of the exact amount of insulin she should inject, she did her best guesstimate and gave herself a shot.
Someone yelped. “Sorry, Em. I’m still not used to seeing you with a needle in hand.”
Emma put her insulin pen back in her pocketbook. “It’s okay. I don’t think I’ll get used to it either. I can’t believe I forgot to give myself insulin before I drank that colossal drink. I probably shouldn’t be drinking. I’m not sure if I gave myself too much insulin or nowhere near enough. And I’m feeling pretty tipsy already.”
“I’m the worst friend ever. I should have reminded you. Thankfully, Mason is watching out for you.”
“Yeah,” Emma muttered. “Such a Boy Scout.”
They left the bathroom arm-in-arm and found Cole and Mason by the pool table racking up the balls.
“Care to join us, ladies?” Cole asked. “Couples or boys against girls?”
“Girls and boys,” Paige said. “We’re gonna smoke you.”
Cole eyed her suspiciously. “No way. I totally forgot you picked up the game in college. I want you on my team, but that wouldn’t be fair, with Mason’s handicap and all. I let him have you. I’ll take Emma.”
“Gee, thanks. Make me feel like the last girl to get picked,” Emma muttered
“Now you know how I feel,” Paige teased.
Emma was grateful she wasn’t paired with the Boy Scout. She could better seduce him from across the table. Seduce? Where did that come from? Ashamed of her lustful thoughts, Emma picked up a stick and cue and eyed the pyramid of balls on the table. Slowly and seductively she ran the chalk over the tip of her cue, completely aware of the stares Cole and Mason, as well as others nearby, gave her. Gently blowing the end of the stick, Emma batted her dark eyelashes at Cole and asked, “Do you want to break the balls, or shall I?”
He choked on his beer and grinned. “I think I’ll just stand here and watch, thank you very much.” Cole drained the rest of his beer and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and grinning ear to ear.
Ben
ding over at the hips and sticking her rear out farther than necessary, Emma tossed her hair to the side and eyed Mason up and down. “I’m so gonna bust your balls.” She heard Cole bellow out a laugh from behind her and an array of catcalls from the bar. But Mason stood emotionless. Not a flicker of desire or even humor reflected on his gorgeous face. Scowling even more than he did before.
The break was terrible. She managed to scatter the balls, but none made it into a pocket. Paige merrily pulled out her pool stick and started sinking balls. Ever the Pollyanna, she smiled at her partner and apologized—and actually meant it—to Emma and Cole.
Emma picked up her rum and diet coke—opting for the low carb drink—and sneered at her perky friend. Mason stood next to her, arms crossed, and asked quietly, “What’s your blood sugar?”
Annoyed because he seemed only concerned with her health and not her heart, she snapped, “It’s fine.”
Mason squinted at her then nodded. “Are you drunk?”
Annoyed again because he was both observant and correct, Emma smiled coyly, “I’m not drunk. I’m just intoxicated by you.”
“One of Cole’s?”
He started really grating on her nerves, which didn’t help her seduction plan any. Of course he recognized one of Cole’s many pickup lines. She rolled her eyes, noisily slurped the rest of her drink through her straw, and took her turn. This time, he had a view of her backside. Emma hoped her butt looked as good as everyone said. But maybe he wasn’t a butt man. Maybe boobs did it for him. Glancing down at her rather flat chest, Emma puffed out her cheeks and made the shot. One ball to go and she and Cole would win the game. Not that she cared. Flirting with Cole didn’t seem to make Mason jealous at all. He seemed completely indifferent to Emma’s attempt at seduction. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to make the guy notice her.
Missing the next shot, Emma handed the pool stick to Cole and stepped out of Paige’s way. Of course Miss Pollyanna Perfect made the shot and won the game. Emma pretended to blame her grumpy mood on the pool game and not the sexy man being ogled by a group of women who were obviously on a girl’s night out. Granted Mason didn’t seem to be enjoying the attention, but Cole was dead center in it.
“If it weren’t for the damned sun, you’d be the hottest thing ever created.” Girls seemed to fall for Cole’s pickup lines. The sad and disgusting part was most of them thought he was serious. He used them on his mother, his sister, sister-in-law, cousin, and even her. Emma felt sorry for the poor girls who fell for him. And there was a sucker born every minute.
“Play darts with me, Em,” Paige pleaded. “This place is so fun. Oh, I love this song. Do you want to dance instead?” as Billy “The Bronco” Watson sang a Sugarland song.
“Darts. I feel like shooting something.”
* * * *
Sometime later, Mason dragged two drunk and giggly girls off the dance floor and pulled one inebriated brother away from the claws of two women. He knew he’d end up having to play babysitter to everyone tonight. How could Emma ever believe Cole could be the designated driver? She seemed to be on some mission all evening. He figured it was her way of ridding her mind of the stress from the past week. And he couldn’t really blame her.
But there was no need for her to dress so revealing, to flirt so much, to look so…perfect. She didn’t only distract him with the incredibly tight jeans and low-cut top, she managed to distract every male in the bar of his own problems as well. Although, until tonight, Mason didn’t think he had any problems. But he sure the hell did now.
Pushing three inebriated people out of a bar when they obviously did not want to leave was a bigger task than he expected. He hadn’t anticipated sweet Paige to put up a fight.
“I am not going home with you, Mason Tucker. You’ll have to find some other poor, helpless maiden to save tonight. I’m still dancing.” Paige yanked her arm away from his grip, grabbed Emma’s hand, and skipped back to the dance floor. Cole used the distraction as an opportunity to stroll back onto the dance floor and into the arms of a group of college girls.
Rubbing his hands down his face, Mason sighed and took a seat at the bar. He didn’t mind playing pool or darts all night, but there was no way in hell he’d move around on a dance floor packed with sweaty, drunk people. It wasn’t his thing.
“Water, please,” he said when the bartender asked for his order.
“Sucks being the DD, huh?” This coming from the loner with the cowboy hat at the bar who’d been nursing water all night.
“Yeah, you too?”
“In a way,” the stranger said. He seemed harmless enough. Probably about Mason’s age, maybe a little older judging by the laugh lines around his eyes. Although, he didn’t seem to be the laughing sort. Pretty serious, just like him.
They sat in silence, both staring out at the dance floor. Both staring at the same person or people. “Friends of yours?” the stranger asked.
“Family.”
That seemed to perk up the stranger a bit. “Name’s Walker. Bryce Walker.”
“Is that like James. James Bond?” Mason smiled at his own joke. Walker did too.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Friends call me Walker. Family calls me Bryce.”
“Mason Tucker.”
They sat in silence watching Paige and Emma dance. Or at least he hoped Walker’s eyes were on Paige and not his girl. Mason shook his head and silently cursed. Emma was not his.
Her body moved lithely as she danced. Gorgeous, curvy hips swayed to the music as her hair cascaded down her back like a black river of lust. The contrast of her dark hair and light blue eyes lured him in like a drunk to a bottle. There was no denying his strong attraction to her, but she wasn’t his to have.
“Nice gene pool you guys have. And I mean no disrespect,” Walker quickly added.
“None taken.” Mason didn’t want to interrogate the man, but he also didn’t want the stranger making any attempts at Emma. He’d watched the cowboy stare at the girls all night. As long as he looked and didn’t touch, Mason wouldn’t bite.
Walker played with the condensation ring on the bar. “Came out for a solitary drink. I wasn’t expecting to be entertained by your family all night.” Walker laughed. “Looks like you and your brother have your hands full with your sisters. Although, I don’t see much family resemblance with the girls.”
“The dark blonde is our cousin. The brunette is…a close family friend.”
“Roger that.”
The inflection in his voice gave him away, but he didn’t care. Emma was off limits. Especially to the beefy guy and his buddies trying to cut their way through the mob of dancers. Mason gritted his teeth as beefy guy number one put his hand on Emma’s ass and another scrawny low-life attempted to grope Paige’s breast.
She abruptly turned around and slapped him. Beefy guy said something to Emma, which obviously pissed her off, and she kneed him in the balls. Cole caught abreast of the situation and started cursing quite loudly at the gang. Before the situation could get any more out of hand, Walker and Mason jumped off the stools and elbowed their way through the crowded dance floor to the girls.
“Calm down, boys. Let the girls go and back off,” Walker said calmly. Cole and Mason glared at the lowlifes, ready for action, but Walker held them at bay. “Mason, get the ladies and your brother out of here.” Walker kept his eyes on beefy guy as Mason grabbed hold of Emma and Paige and plowed them through the throng of onlookers.
“My purse,” Emma said as they walked by their abandoned table.
Mason swiped it up, not breaking stride, and didn’t stop until they got into his car. He opened the back door and herded the girls in. Cole followed behind and folded himself into the front seat of Mason’s jeep.
“I really wanted to kick that guy’s ass. I can’t believe you pulled me away from him.”
“You the designated driver tonight, Cole?” Mason sneered. That shut Cole up, but the girls didn’t get the message.
“Who
was that guy, Mason? Em, did you see how he swept right in and rescued us?” Paige sighed. “He looked like Bradley Cooper. Dreamy eyes, golden hair. Let’s go back and thank him.”
Mason put himself in between the white trash and the girls, but they didn’t notice his act of heroism?
“I knew you had the hots for him,” Emma said. “What’s the Lone Ranger’s name, Mason? You guys seemed to make nice at the bar before coming to our rescue. What’s his story?”
So she did notice his act of chivalry. That almost made him smile. “Bryce Walker. No time to get his story.”
“We’ll Google him. He totally wanted you. Naked. Wearing only those cowboy boots.” She giggled.
Mason groaned. It was going to be a long, lonely night.
* * * *
Emma twirled her hair and batted her baby blues at the desire of her affection. She loved his take-charge attitude. After dropping Paige off at her apartment, he pulled into Cole and Emma’s driveway. Cole stumbled out of the car and told Emma and Mason the party would continue at his place, but she turned down his invitation.
After spending an hour on her hair and squeezing her body into incredibly uncomfortable jeans all for Mason’s sake, she was determined to get something out of the deal. Her attempts to seduce and make him jealous seemed to have no effect. Mason was as cold and standoffish as ever.
A quick good-night kiss would satisfy her.
For now.
She noticed him checking her out in the rearview mirror during the drive home, but he didn’t as much as utter two words to her in the car. Instead she listened to Paige fawn over the Lone Ranger. But she didn’t mind; Paige was due for a serious hook-up.
“Do you want to come in?”
They stood in awkward silence as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Tired of waiting for a reply, she unlocked the door and went inside, leaving the door open behind her. A few moments later she heard the front door close. Smiling to herself, Emma opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.
“Thirsty?”
“Sure.”
Emma tossed him a bottle and watched him drink half of it down. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with each swallow and the sight made her picture him naked. Or rather nearly naked in the therapy pool. She wanted desperately to tear off his shirt and run her hands over his tight, smooth chest. The man had absolutely no idea how beautiful he was. Snapping her attention to matters at hand, she presented her nicest manners. “Thanks for coming to our rescue. I can’t believe Cole neglected his designated driver duty.”
False Hope (McKay-Tucker Men Book 2) Page 8