Tempting Tim: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (Billingsley Book 4)

by Melissa Ellen

  “Conley.” I jutted my chin her direction, keeping my tone casual and uncaring. Like she hadn’t set off a nuclear bomb in my world—my bar—by showing up here unexpectedly. “How ya been?”

  “Great. Thanks for asking,” she said wryly.

  We were locked in a heated staring war, causing my group of friends to become quiet and uncomfortable.

  “I’m guessing you two know each other,” Devin stated, an attempt to slice the tension between us.

  “Something like that,” I replied, ripping my gaze from Conley to glance at Devin. Conley scoffed, muttering something under her breath that I didn’t catch. From the attitude rolling off her in waves, I was positive it wasn’t a fond sentiment. “I need to grab another bottle from the back.”

  I walked away, heading to the storage room before I lost my cool in front of the whole damn bar.

  What the hell is she doing here? And where the hell is Bobby?

  I punched through the swinging door, stopping just inside the room. I roughed both hands over my face, slowly dragging them down as I took a deep inhale, then dropped them to my knees. I hung my head, trying to breathe through the adrenaline rush that was tempting me to put a hole in the wall. The storage room door swung open. I quickly straightened, turning around, expecting to find one of my servers coming back here for more supplies or to find me.

  Instead, Wes stood there, his brow raising as he took me in. “You good, man?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re fine?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I said. What the hell are you doing back here?”

  “Well,” he sighed, leaning casually against one of the storage racks, feet crossed. “After you walked off to get another bottle of tequila” —he lifted his hands, adding air quotes, then crossed his arms—"when there was a full bottle sitting two feet away, Devin sent me back here to check on you. I figured it was either make you pissed by checking on you, or make Devin pissed by not checking on you. The decision was a no brainer.”

  “Don’t use air quotes.” I walked toward the liquor shelf where I kept the extra bottles. “It makes you look like a dipshit.”

  “And what does hiding in the storage room make you look like?”

  “I’m not hiding.” I plucked a bottle of Patron Silver from the shelf. I kept them stocked deep for Devin. The woman drank her tequila like a fish.

  “Sure, you aren’t…” He smirked. “What’s the deal with you and Conley? I thought you two were tight back in the day. Something happen?”

  “No.” It was a gruff denial that had my muscles tensing.

  “Okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I get it. Subject closed.”

  A bit of the tension eased from my shoulders.

  “For now,” he said through a grin, disappearing back through the door before I could respond.

  If he hadn’t, I would’ve told him it was closed forever. My feelings for Conley Logan weren’t something I’d ever be willing to discuss with anyone…not even with her.

  I followed Wes out, slipping back behind the bar. I snatched up a couple shot glasses as I worked. Placing the extra bottle of tequila in the fridge, I swapped it out for the already opened one. Before pouring the shots, I fully dressed one with salt. After garnishing each with a lime, I handed them over to Devin and Conley, placing a salt shaker on the bar.

  I didn’t need to ask Devin how she liked her shot. I’d learned the first night I met her she wanted them fully dressed. Conley, on the other hand, I learned from years of partying together. She preferred to lick the salt from her wrist like a damn temptress.

  “To new friends,” Devin raised her glass to Conley.

  “And old ones,” Conley added, giving me a quick glance before clinking her glass with Devin’s.

  I busied myself wiping off the bar, my eyes reluctantly lingering on Conley as if I had nothing better to do—like making the growing number of drink orders. She tilted her head, knocking back the shot, exposing a throat I’d fantasized about kissing one too many times. The soft curls of long ebony hair streamed farther down her back toward an ass I had no doubt was still perky.

  She’d always kept her body in great shape. Fortunately, the bar was shielding her, so I didn’t have to worry about keeping my eyes off it. Her tits were another story. The black tank that hardly classified as a shirt barely covered them.

  She slammed the empty shot glass onto the bar, causing my eyes to snap to her face again, her full lips wrapping around the lime and sucking it like it was her damn job.

  I scrubbed my palm over the stubble along my jaw, feeling like a busted teenage boy as my dick strained against my jeans. The years, apparently, hadn’t done shit to numb my attraction to her. “You ladies need anything else?”

  “I think we’re good for now, Timmy,” Wes answered for them, standing from his stool before helping Devin down from hers. “Just send a couple buckets of beer to the table when you get a chance.”

  “Yeah. No problem.”

  Conley hung back as the rest of the group headed for their usual table to prepare for the start of the trivia game.

  “Timmy?” A playful smile tipped the corners of those perfect lips.

  “Yeah. Can’t say I love the nickname, but it’s Wes.” I shrugged, draping the rag over my shoulder. “You know how he is.” I folded my arms over my chest. Her eyes followed the movement, a faint blush coloring her tanned skin.

  Her head bobbed as her smile grew wider. “Okay, Timmy,” she teased my name from her lips, before turning and walking away from me, gracing me with a perfect view of that perky jean-clad ass.

  I lightly shook my head, a grin forcing its way onto my face despite myself. Because as much as I tried to fight it, Conley Logan always had a way of effortlessly breaking down my walls. No one else could disarm me so quickly.

  I spent the rest of the night keeping one eye on Conley as she drank and laughed with my friends, fitting in seamlessly. She’d always been that way—making friends with just about anyone she met. There were more than a few moments our eyes would meet through the crowd before she’d dive back into the conversation surrounding her. Every time, I ignored the way my skin prickled with an intense desire to be closer to her. Instead, I forced myself to look away the same way she had, as if it hadn’t happened.

  Unsurprisingly, she and Devin had hit it off instantly. They had more in common than just a few physical features.

  They both loved music with a passion, had a fiery attitude, and never backed down from a challenge. It’s likely the reason Devin and I became fast friends when she moved to town to work as a vet at her uncle’s practice. We’d spent many nights talking about music while she hung out at the bar. But that’s where my feelings for Devin stopped. She was fated for my friend. I only wished I could accept the same fact about Conley.

  When I left the band to move back to Billingsley and take over Dudley’s from my pops, Wes and Roger became my closest friends—mainly because they were permanent fixtures here at the bar. Over time though, they became the two guys I could count on for just about anything, something I’m not sure I could’ve ever said for my buddies from the band.

  With one hand, I grabbed two bottles of Shiner from the fridge as I slipped the beer shank out of my back pocket. Popping off the tops, I turned to pass them off to the guys waiting across the bar. Devin walked up, perching herself on one of the few empty stools beside them.

  My attention bounced to her as the two guys walked away. “What can I do for you, Doc? More tequila?”

  She ran her hands through her hair, gathering and twisting it up into a knot at the back of her head. “Turn the A/C on, for one,” she said with flushed cheeks.

  I smirked, knowing her being overheated had less to do with the room temperature and more to do with the alcohol coursing through her veins. “I’ll send someone back to check on it.”

  “Thanks. And yeah, I’ll take another round for me and the girls.”

  “Coming right up.”
I knocked a fist on the bar top, before turning to grab the bottle of tequila I’d brought from the back earlier. They’d already finished off the other.

  “So, Conley’s pretty awesome…”

  I glanced over my shoulder at her, giving her an indifferent nod. With the tequila in hand, I turned and stepped back in front of Devin. Selecting five shot glasses, I lined them up across the counter.

  Devin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, her lips pursing and twisting up to the side. “Is she the one?”

  “The one what?” I asked, refusing to meet her gaze as I rimmed all the glasses with salt, except one.

  I began pouring the clear liquor, the distinctive smell invading my nose. I wasn’t a fan of the stuff. Never had been. Especially not after the day I’d gotten so drunk and almost poured out my heart to Conley late one night in Austin. It’d been after one of our regular weekend gigs and the rest of the band had passed out for the night, including Bobby. Conley and I had stayed up late, talking and laughing while sipping from a bottle of cheap tequila on the tiny balcony of our shared apartment. The liquor gave me a loose tongue, and if the unexpected call from my pops hadn’t interrupted me, I might’ve told her everything. Either way, that night was destined to be a turning point for me. The next morning, I’d packed my things and left before anyone woke up.

  Devin lifted from her seat, reaching across the bar for the container of pre-sliced limes. “Is that how we’re going to play this? You pretend like you have no idea what I’m talking about, while we both know you do.” Snatching up a handful, she passed them to me. “I thought we were closer than that, Timmy.” She planted her ass back on the stool.

  “Just because you and everyone in this town overshare your feelings like I’m a therapist, instead of a bartender, doesn’t mean I’ll be doing the same,” I declared, maybe a little too harshly.

  “Whoa.” She whipped her head backward, throwing up her hands with an affronted expression. “No need to be an ass, Tim. If this is what Conley brings out in you, I’m not sure I’m gonna like having her around town.” She stood from her seat. “Just have one of the girls bring those over.” She gestured toward the shots, then walked away.

  Dammit. I roughed a hand through my hair and squeezed the back of my neck. “Devin. Hold up.”

  She stopped her retreat, spinning to face me, a pissed-off expression still on her face as she crossed her arms.

  “I’m sorry…”

  Her stiff posture softened, and she gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s fine. It’s not all your fault. I pushed when I shouldn’t have…and I get it. Most of us are bitter over someone.”

  I swallowed the hard knot of truth, thankful she’d let me off the hook so easily. “I’ll get these over to you.”

  She nodded and started to leave again.

  “Doc, one more thing…”

  “Yeah?”

  “What did you mean, ‘Having her around town?’”

  “Didn’t you hear?” She grinned mockingly. “She just moved back to Billingsley, so you might want to get those feelings you refuse to discuss under control.”

  My heart slammed against my ribcage as my mind reeled from the news. She gave me one of her husband’s signature winks and walked away. They were just as annoying when she did it as when he did. I placed the shots on a tray, deciding to take them over myself. I’d avoided my friends all night, wanting to steer clear of Conley. But if what Devin had told me was true, then I was screwed.

  This bar, this town, was supposed to be mine, a place I didn’t have to be around them. She and Bobby had never shown any interest in returning here. Last I heard, they had a place in LA, hundreds of miles from Texas.

  I didn’t need old shit—feelings—being stirred up from Conley being back in town. I’d thought time and space would take care of that problem, along with having been with plenty of women over the years. But seeing Conley tonight proved otherwise. There were still some underlying feelings there, ones I needed to rid myself of one way or another.

  “Well, look who’s decided to grace us with his presence once again,” Leighton said as I approached the group.

  With a slight smile, I tried to hide the guilt I felt from avoiding them. “Yeah, well, some of us have work to do around here and I’m short-staffed tonight,” I said, squeezing between Wes and Tucker. I set the shots on the table, then handed the tray off to Melanie, a woman who worked for me, as she passed by.

  “Well, it’s a good thing Wes just hired you more help,” Billy said on a laugh, the others chuckling along with him.

  “He did what?” My glare darted to Wes, unable to hold back the scowl forming on my face.

  “In my defense, I was left unattended,” Wes piped up.

  “There’s a table full of people sitting with you,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, well…” He clapped my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Conley here needed a job. And we all know you could use the help.”

  I gritted my teeth, ready to strangle my so-called good friend. I’d chalk it up to a drunken slip of the tongue, if I didn’t know better. Alcohol wasn’t at fault here. This group of men went easy on the drinking whenever they were out with their wives. They allowed the girls to overindulge and enjoy their night, while they ensured everyone made it home safely.

  Not only that, I knew Wes well enough to know he was up to something. He wasn’t a fan of others meddling in his business, but for better or worse, he meddled in his friends’ and family’s when he saw fit.

  “He’s kidding,” Conley quickly interjected, an unsureness in her tone.

  “You don’t need a job?” I turned my attention to her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, if this was a sick joke.

  “No, I do…” Her fingers fiddled with peeling the label on her beer bottle as she danced her eyes around the table, looking at anyone but me. “But it’s fine. You don’t have to hire me. I’ll find something.”

  Nothing was right about this. The mere fact that she was here and now needing a job… It didn’t make sense. Augustine was still at the top of the charts. Their records were selling like crazy, not to mention the Grammy nominations and wins, among other music awards. I’d known this from following them in the news from time to time. It was hard not to.

  Conley continued to avoid my stare as I tried to process everything. Before I could say another word, Melanie tapped me on the shoulder, grabbing my attention. “Hey boss, the tickets are backing up.”

  “Yeah, be right there.” I turned back to the table. “Keep this one under control, will ya?” I jabbed a thumb toward Wes. “I don’t want to wake up to find a help-wanted ad in the paper tomorrow morning.”

  There was a jumbled mixture of sarcastic “Yes, sir” and “You got it, boss,” followed by muffled laughter as I walked away.

  3

  Conley

  “Suck it, losers!” Devin hollered, turning to Wes, giving him a high five, then jumping into his arms for a victory make-out session.

  Leaning in closer to Lottie, I asked in a hushed voice, “Are they always this—”

  “Obnoxious?” Lottie finished for me, then burst into a fit of laughter.

  “I was going to say competitive.” I giggled.

  Having overheard our conversation, Tucker chuckled on the other side of her. “Always. Though, it’s worse when they are on opposing teams. Let’s just say Monopoly in the Monroe household is a sore subject.”

  “Noted,” I said before taking a sip of my beer.

  “So, Conley, I bet this is a tame night for you, huh?” Leighton asked, angling into Aaron’s side as he held his arm around her. “You probably have some wild stories after being on the road all these years with Bobby.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I forced a pained smile onto my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Though, I’m enjoying the change of pace,” I added, volunteering nothing about my years on the road.

  “Wait?” Devin darted her eyes to me, finally having detached herself from Wes’s mouth.
“Who did you travel with?”

  “Augustine,” the entire table answered in unison for me.

  “Get the heck out!” Devin nearly fell out of her chair when she shoved off Wes’s firm chest. I was sure she’d had her weight in tequila tonight. It’s amazing she could still dominate at trivia.

  “How did you not know they were from here?” Wes asked in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Uh, because they aren’t,” Devin argued.

  “Hate to break it to ya, Doc, but you’re wrong.” He kissed the top of her head, trying to soften the blow of her losing this bit of music trivia.

  “No way. Every article ever written says they were from—”

  “Austin,” Wes interrupted. “But it’s all lies to protect their hometown roots. That’s just where they were living when they got their big break.”

  Devin scoffed. “Yeah. Okay,” she said sarcastically, her eyes shifting around the table for the others to back her up, finding no help.

  “Sorry, he’s right.” I shrugged. “In fact, one of the original founding members has been serving you drinks all night.”

  Devin’s jaw dropped at my response. “You’re telling me—” Her eyes opened wide with some sort of realization. “Oh my gosh, this makes so much sense now.” She turned to Wes. “That’s how you got the sold-out Derailed tickets for me when they were touring together.”

  He grinned, giving her a wink. She smacked his pec playfully with the back of her hand.

  “Timmy!” she hollered across the now nearly empty bar. It was approaching closing time, but the group I was with didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. Tim looked our direction, lifting his chin in acknowledgement as he continued to dry a highball glass. “Get your ass over here! You have some explaining to do.”

  With an amused smirk, he set the clean glass on the shelf and tossed his rag to the side before slowly making his way to us. Each step was smooth and confident as he went, his grin charming as he exchanged brief niceties with a few of the other lingering bar patrons.