Page 13 of Loving Justice

Justice was running on empty.

Figuratively.

All she needed was to put miles on her new cowgirl boots and a few drinks to celebrate the fact that she was putting the whole situation with Kent behind her. She wouldn’t allow him to creep into her mind any longer.

Mav’s was as lively as ever. The honky-tonk was packed with hard-working cowboys and cowgirls wanting to unwind after a hard week. There was a long line for the newly installed mechanical bull, and a cowboy was on stage singing Hank Williams Jr. The crowd cheered and sang along.

On the dance floor, she saw Jinx and Lanah Weaver.

“Looks like she’s trying to nail herself another one,” Hope said with a roll of her eyes. None of the Rose sisters had anything good to say about Lanah. She was about as artificial as the flowers Aunt Rita stuffed into her window boxes every spring.

“Jinx wouldn’t fall for her sugary sweetness, would he?” Justice tried to ignore the heaviness that took up residence in her chest. She wasn't jealous, not of Lanah, who danced so fast that her skirt swished around her knees. Jinx was laughing and seemed to be having a good time.

“No clue. I don’t think so.” Hope craned her neck to look for anyone she was interested in at the bar. “I can’t believe you dragged me out for this. Although that cowboy sure can sing. I haven’t seen him around before, have you?”

“Nope.” Justice narrowed her gaze at her sister. “What else were you going to do tonight? Make yourself a picnic in bed and watch a documentary on catching a fake husband in six months?”

The looming deadline for finding a husband was getting closer.

“Worry about yourself,” Hope muttered. “I’ll find one.”

“Will you?”

“We’re in the same predicament. Where’s your ring?” Hope said sassily.

Justice scanned the busy room “Come on. I see two open stools at the bar.” She grabbed Hope’s hand and dragged her through the crowd. Several cowboys dipped their hats in greeting.

“He’s kind of cute,” Hope said, tilting her chin toward the tallest cowboy of the duo. “Did you see his bulge?” She laughed.

“Apparently someone is going through a dry spell,” Justice said, weaving around the men.

“When Daddy decided to demand we get married, he jinxed me. Are all the men in this town getting uglier or is it just in my head?”

“How about Hank Coulson? Wasn’t there a time you two tested the hay loft for holes? Looks like he’s holding up the jukebox.”

“Hard pass. He wasn’t any fun,” Hope sighed.

They slid upon the stools and Rayne Sims, a petite brunette with tattoo sleeves, a stack of earrings in each ear, and her blue hair shaved on one side, worked the bar and asked, “What can I get you gals this evening?”

“Two shots of tequila,” Justice said, ignoring that Hope was eyeing her with a tapered gaze.

“That seems fitting,” Hope moaned.

“What do you mean?”

“For the last week, you’ve been…well, not quite yourself. I hate to pull a complete Daddy lecture, but drowning your sorrows never worked. Care to share?” She clicked one of her taloned nails on the polished bar top.

Justice paused while Rayne set two shot glasses in front of them and turned the bottle upside down, filling each with tequila. “There’s nothing to share.” She didn’t want to talk about Kent or their daddy’s demands. She just wanted to live one night without so much as a worry. “Cheers.” She picked up her glass, and when Hope didn’t make a move to do the same, Justice swallowed the contents, squinting as the liquid burned its way down her into her stomach. “Drink up, buttercup.”

Reluctantly, Hope finished off her own, coughed and sputtered, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “The things we do for the ones we love.”

“You’ll thank me later when you’ve successfully pulled the stick out of your ass and had some fun.” She laughed, already feeling livelier as she shimmied her shoulders to a popular country song.

"Some of the crew is here," Hope said, pointing at the ranch hands sitting at a table near the mechanical bull. It looked like they were all taking turns on seeing who could stay on the longest. The boys were known to raise the roof on Friday nights.

Justice, however, was focused on Jinx. He’d left the dance floor and sat at the end of the bar.

Jinx Weathersby certainly could turn heads in a crowd. She didn’t know much about the hand except for two things. He looked like Scott Eastwood and moved like John Wayne. And he seemed to always be watching her.

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