Page 26 of Takes Two to Tango

Brent followed with a second beer in hand, the last he could have for the evening and still make it home unaffected. Lord knew he wanted more, to drink until he didn't remember anything. But he also wanted to avoid twelve-step programs.

Rusty, the oil field worker, fit his name with auburn tufts of hair below a vintage Rusty Wallace NASCAR cap. He racked up the balls and chalked his cue tip as though he'd done it every dayof his life. Brent was probably toast, but he really didn't give a damn. He needed distraction. And not of the female variety.

"You break," Rusty said, eyeing Tamara as she leaned against the unoccupied table beside them. She stretched and the vest she wore expanded, threatening to spill out her very nice rack. Rusty swallowed hard and ripped his gaze from the blonde. "What are we playing for?"

Brent shrugged. He didn't like to play for money and he'd probably lose anyway. "How about a drink?"

Rusty looked like he wanted Brent to put up Tamara as part of the wager. Which was stupid for many reasons. First, she didn't belong to Brent and, second, they were living in the twenty-first century. But the man nodded. "'Kay."

Brent broke and the balls spun. He pulled stripes and set about working them into the various pockets. For some reason he was on tonight, sinking tough shot after tough shot. Rusty barely had a chance to lift his cuestick before Brent sank the eight ball. The oil worker didn't seem to mind. He'd spent much of his time watching Tamara stretch and brush her hair from her shoulders. Brent wasn't sure but thought the man actually wiped drool from his chin. Brent accepted the beer as part of his win, even though he knew he shouldn't have another. He took a swig and the liquid slid down his throat, icy and seductive. After beating Rusty in another game, he found himself four beers into a good time. Before he could drop the cuestick, the bridesmaids had him out on the dance floor shuffling around doing asinine dance moves even though he knew he looked incredibly stupid. But he didn't care. It was better than staring at his ceiling thinking about Rayne and how she wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire.

But even through the haze of the booze, he hated himself for tossing out his good intention to have only a few drinks. Same ol’ Brent doing the same ol’ dumb shit he’d done for the past fifteenyears. He laughed, he flirted, and he drank. Just a man who hadn’t a care in the world. He was what everyone expected. The kind of guy you played with because that’s all he was good for.

As a new song started, all he could think about was going home, finishing the next chapter, sinking into who he wanted to be. Too bad he'd had four beers and couldn't drive. Stupid ass. He'd allowed the prick of Rayne's rebuke to lead him where he was. Instead of doing the adult thing, he'd stomped out the door like a child with an "I'll show her" attitude. And what had he proven?

Nothing other than the fact this neon life wasn't cutting it anymore. He should have left Cooley's and the tipsy chicks to the oil-field workers and took his ass home. It was time for change. He knew it in his gut. He wanted more than lukewarm beers and drunken sex. He wanted more than honkytonks and bar fights. He wanted more than empty rooms and a silent house.

He smiled at the pretty bride-to-be doing some sort of crazy jerky dance, saluted, and then exited the dance floor, swerving around other rowdy patrons before making it to the exit. He had to find a way home. Maybe Tamara. Or maybe he'd have to call someone.

Rayne's image appeared in his mind.

Her soft, wide mouth and cascade of curls brushing her alabaster shoulders. Lord, he was poetic when he was half-drunk. He wanted her. Desire burned inside him, consuming him. And he didn't know what to do about this need, didn’t know how to even proceed with her. She was aware of him, both sexually and spiritually, but she'd passed him up in life. Even with sparks, they were nothing to each other but an old memory of what had been but could never be again.

"Where'd you go?" Tamara said, sticking her head out the glass door.

"Needed some air," he said, wishing she hadn't interrupted the self-pity lurking under the desire for change. He felt close to figuring something out. Maybe. Besides, he knew what Tamara wanted.

She slid out the door and moved so she stood beside him. "Pretty moon tonight, huh?”

He looked up. "Yeah."

"Wanna come home with me, B?" she said, sliding a hand up his back, smoothing his T-shirt against his skin.

He ripped his gaze from the night sky and looked at the girl who'd been his sometimes lover but all-the-time friend. "I don't think so, sugar."

She frowned. "What's wrong with you? You're not acting like yourself."

He shrugged. "I don't know, Tam. I think I want something different than what I've been doing. I can't keep being this person. Spending all my time at bars, indulging in meaningless relationships, going home to an empty house."

She pressed her lips together. "So I'm a meaningless relationship?"

Shit.

He figuratively spat out his boot. “That's not what I meant. You've always been a good friend to me."

''That's the definition of a friend to you? You screw all your friends?" Her mouth formed a straight line. Frost edged her words.

He reached out and rubbed her shoulder. She jerked away. "Hey, that's not what I meant. You're a sweetheart."

"But you could never love me. I've been wasting time trying to get you to see me as something other than a booty call. Guess you think I'm not goodenough. Why buy the cow, right?”

He’d plunged under the deep and felt panic blanket him. He’d always thought their friends-with-benefits relationshipmutual. Never in a billion years had he imagined Tamara's interest as anything more than passing. "I'm not sure I understand. You-"

"God, I'm an idiot." Tears glistened on her lashes and she crossed her arms defensively. "I get it. You're looking for someone wholesome and pure. Someone like Rayne Rose."

He felt himself stiffen at her conclusion. "No. I'm not sure how staring at the moon led to this, but you are a terrific woman. I've just never…I mean..."

"You're not in love with me," she finished.

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