Page 42 of Honey Bee Hearts

I narrow my eyes on him. Shit. We haven’t talked about this, but if he means what I think he means. . . we’re all apparently interested in Fable. Shit. Fuck. Compared to Colt, I might stand a chance, especially if you don’t take into account the puppies. Trent, well. . . I’m not sure how that’s gonna go. But Rhett? Fuck, Rhett is real good at making women fall in love with him. Fable don’t seem the kind to fall for his tricks, but who knows. We’re gonna have to talk about it soon.

“What are y’all talking about?” Fable asks as she looks in the mirror.

“Nothing,” I say smiling at her.

Trent appears on the side of the truck and hops in the passenger side back seat without a word. Colt shifts closer to me to give him more room and we’re suddenly cramped in the back seat. Trent is a big motherfucker.

I look over at him, take note how cleaned up he is. There’s not a bit of soot on him. I can’t remember the last time I saw him without grease or soot spots on his clothes.

Shit.

“Let’s go,” Rhett says. “Before the live band gets on stage.”

Fable drops it in drive, and I settle back into the seat. Game or not, I can’t be mad at my friends. After all, Fable Everhart is. . . shew, she’s something else. Of course they’d like her, and I ain’t gonna compete.

She either wants me or she don’t.

But man, if she don’t, that’s gonna hurt. Just a little.

Maybe a lot.

Chapter 24

Fable

It’s a slow drive to the Boot Skoot. Rhett seems unbothered as he settles back in his seat, his window down so he can hang his arm out it. Gunnar meets my eyes in the rearview mirror a few times to grin at me. Trent looks out the window while he attempts to make himself smaller. He should probably be sitting up front honestly. His shoulders are too wide for all three of them to be in the back.

Colt, though? Colt acts like this is the most stressful drive he’s ever been on.

“You’ve got it,” he says to the yellow light in front of us. When I slow to a stop as it turns red, he scoffs. “You had that!”

“Chill out, Colt,” Rhett tells him. “Not everyone drives like they’re playin’ GTA.”

“This is the slowest ride I’ve ever been in,” he grumbles, sitting back and crossing his arms.

I flush and glance at him apologetically over my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just. . . it’s an issue for me.”

His expression softens and he sighs. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Maybe I need to slow down a bit in life.”

But the moment the light turns green, he tenses again and fidgets when I wait a few seconds before I ease off the break. His tension only adds to my own stress and by the time we pull up to the packed streets outside the Boot Skoot, I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel. Rhett thinks Colt’s agitation is funny and teases him about it the whole ride there. Gunnar just seems unconcerned and instead directs me to a parking lot where we can park. Once I put the truck in park, everyone starts hopping out. Gunnar opens the driver side door for me and helps me out. I appreciate the hand because Rhett’s truck is tall.

The Boot Skoot is a large building in Steele right across from the Court House and Police Station. Bright neon lights in the shape of a boot decorate the front of it so it’s hard to miss. The boot flickers between two images like it’s dancing, drawing the eye. It’s a plain building otherwise, but the sidewalk is packed with people streaming inside.

“This is cute,” I say, smiling up at the sign. Jinx would have loved this. She’d have been the first one to scream about line dancing. We’d have both been drunk if she were here, both trying our best to learn every single dance we could. Instead, it’ll just be me.

“The band is good,” Rhett nods. “They’ll probably be something someday soon. I heard some producers have been sniffing around. The Green River Revival has been slowly getting more attention these last few years. Soon, they’ll be too big for the likes of us. They come from another ranch, Blue Moon Pastures, but we haven’t run into them much outside of them playing here every so often.”

“Sounds like they’re gonna be big,” I nod, smiling. “I can’t wait to see them. Should we head inside?”

Rhett doesn’t let me pay for the small cover. Instead, he pays for everyone and tells the bouncer to add anyone else from Circle Bee who show up to his tab. Inside the building, it’s alreadycrowded to the point of anxiety, everyone packed shoulder to shoulder as they shuffle around the bar and to tables. Surely, there’s a fire code issue, but no one seems to care. A large dance floor takes up the center of the room, but along the edges, people sit at tables and drink. There’s a DJ right now, rather than a live band, encouraging people to get on the dance floor.

“This place is famous,” Gunnar leans in to tell me. “Valerie Dacatur came from Steele and played on that very stage.”

“Really?” I ask, wide eyed. Even I know who Valerie Dacatur is. She’s a huge country singer who recently exploded in the last few years. The radio talked about her for weeks back home.

“Yep,” he answers, before pointing to a picture hanging behind the bar. Sure enough, a very sweet-faced Valerie stands with her arms wrapped around the shoulders of men I don’t know. Almost immediately, I realize one of the men is the bartender quickly making drinks behind the bar, his eyes kind as he takes drink orders and commands the other bartenders with ease.

“I’d say it put us on the map, but Frederick Savage already did that,” Colt comments. At my questioning gaze, he adds, “Famous bull rider, remember?”

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