Page 40 of The Roommate Remodel

But the way she’s staring at me with that curve on her rose-colored lips—I can’t say no. With her, I’m a weak man.

She kicks at the floor, like she’s holding back something. “Plus, I may have promised the guys I’d talk you into it.”

“You said what?”

She bites her lip. “They asked me to convince you. They want you there, Brax. And I said you wouldn’t bail on a team event.”

I lift an eyebrow and point my finger at her. “You owe me for this.”

“Fine. Ioweyou. But consider it your team duty. And I’d be disappointed if you didn’t come.”

When we arrive at Boots and Buckles for line-dancing night, the energy in the room is as boisterous as you’d expect from a crowd of people crazy about country music and buffalo chicken wings. There’s random hollering from the line dancers, wailing steel guitars, and the stomp of boots as people scoot across the floor.

Worn wooden planks line the floor and saddles and wagon wheels decorate the walls. The servers wear leather aprons that look like chaps, along with fringy cowboy shirts, unbuttoned at the top. One end of the restaurant is open for dancing, and in the corner, a DJ plays every George Strait and Garth Brooks song from the last thirty years.

The scent of fried food and a zesty hot sauce lingers in the air. For the first time today, my stomach growls like a hangry toddler about to dissolve into a raging tantrum. The guys find a table in the back under a wagon wheel chandelier. When the drinks arrive in mugs shaped like cowboy boots, Jaz lifts her glass in celebration.

“Here’s to a winning season,” she says.

“Hear, hear,” we say in unison.

We clink our glasses together, and I nearly spill my sweet tea when Leo socks my mug too hard. We order an entire chicken house of wings coated with the “Death by a Thousand Wings Sauce” and piles of fries smothered in cheese, which is probably the last thing I should eat while in training.

I’m going to pay for this later, but I’m too ravenous to care. When the wings are picked to the bone and our mouths flame from the heat, Leo glances at the dance floor and asks, “Who wants to work off that dinner with some line dancing?”

“I’m game,” Tate says.

I stare at Tate in wonder.Sheriff can dance?

“Me too.” Sloan scoots off her seat, following Tate. She shoots a look at Vale. “And you’re not making fun of us in the peanut gallery.”

Vale grins. “Who said I’d make fun? I’m coming with you.” He throws his leather jacket on the table and joins them.

I turn to Jaz. “You want to go? I’ll save your seat.” She already knows how I feel about dancing, and I’m not in the mood to make a fool of myself.

“As much as I’ve eaten?” She pats her belly. “I should wait a few minutes.”

I chuckle. “I’m glad Sloan is feeling well enough to dance.”

Her eyes skirt to her sister, and she smiles. “Today was a good day for Sloan. I just wish every day was like that. She’s still dealing with the migraines, dizziness and fatigue, but since you four moved in, it’s like she has a new purpose. It’s worth putting up with your stinky hockey gear to see her happy again.”

She smiles, like a weight’s been lifted from her shoulders. She wants her sister back to normal. We all do.

“And you?” I push my plate away.

She lifts a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I need to take care of Sloan and not lose the house. That’s what Granny would want.”

“But is that whatyouwant? You never told me why you bought the house.”

Jaz leans back in her seat and sighs as a twangy guitar wails across the room. “This house is my home. Granny raised us after our mom died, until my dad remarried. Dad wasn’t interested in anything to do with Mom’s past, and he thought Granny’s house should’ve been sold long ago. He basically buried that part of his life with Mom. This is the only piece of family history we have from her side of the family. It’s proof of the people I love. The things I don’t want to forget.”

I study Jaz as she tips her mug to her lips.

“Were you close to your stepmom?”

“Dad remarried a few years after Mom died. Then my stepmom raised us until we left for college. We were close until she and Dad divorced. Then she remarried and basically stopped all communication with us.” She shakes her head, trying to push away the memory. “My whole family fell apart for a second time. I always thought family was forever, but here I am, in my thirties, essentially an orphan.”

She gives me a sad smile, like she’s trying to make light of the situation. But I see the hurt in her eyes. Just because you grow up doesn’t mean you don’t need your family.

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