Page 15 of In the Dust

Brad turns to me, a little anxious. “I figured I’d stay for a bit.” He shrugs.

Colton grits his teeth; he was clearly hoping the response would be just one night. I find myself wishing that too.

“At my family’s place?” My voice is quieter than it should be. I should be elated. But my family’s never met him. He always seemed to be busy whenever they would come to town. Honestly, I don’t know if he fits in too well staying somewhere that’s so different from the city.

“At the farm?” he nearly scoffs but stops himself. Brad is a nice guy, but he’s prissy. “No, I rented a summer home on the lake for two weeks.” His eyes pan to Colton. “For me and Dixie.”

I watch the challenge rise between the men. Brad may be different than the cowboys here, but he’s not clueless. He sees the way Colton looks at me, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol swimming through me or the nostalgia, but I see it too … and I don’t hate it.

Stop it, Dixie.

* * *

After Brad downsa few glasses of wine and has his salad, he begins to enjoy himself a little. His body is still tense; this kind of bar is nothing like we go to in the city. In New York, we visit places with a quiet atmosphere and a menu that triples its price for no reason. Not a cowboy bar with dim lighting, beer signs plastered on every wall, and peanut shells littering the floor.

But I hope he enjoys it because I’ve always loved this place.

“Who's down for a game?” Harper offers.

Jackson racks the balls, and I don’t miss the way he bumps shoulders with my best friend … or the way her cheeks heat as he looks at her. Interesting.

“You ever played?” I nudge Brad, and he shakes his head.

“In college, a little.”

Colton slaps a hand on his back. “Well we don’t play it city style.” He winks at me as he grabs a stick. “Here in the south, we do it differently.”

Oh no, we’re going to get trashed tonight. “Shot pool!” Harper sings.

“What is shot pool?” Brad wonders as she runs to the bar.

“Well,” I say with a grin, wondering how interesting tonight will get, “Every ball you make, you drink.”

He nods, watching with wide eyes as Harper returns with a tray full of tequila shots. “I don’t want to partake.” He shakes his head.

I groan, “You have to. You came all the way here, didn’t you?” I wiggle my body to the music, showcasing a side of myself that he’s never seen. The real me. “Let’s party!”

Brad watches as Colton breaks the rack of balls, landing a solid ball into the cup. “Shot!” we shout. But I notice Colton doesn’t take the shot of tequila.

Then, it’s my turn. We broke it up into guys and girls, and while there’s more of them and just me and Harper, they’re still trying to show each other up. I land a striped ball into a pocket as Harper cheers me on.

I bring the shot to my lips, throwing it back. It burns my throat; I haven’t done this in so long. And in a point to show how good he knows me, Colton saunters over the jukebox and hits a few buttons. ‘Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off’ starts playing through the speakers, and he looks directly at me. That’s a song between him and I, so this is just for me to remember as he winks at me from beneath his hat.

Everyone’s getting past the point of tipsy, so it doesn't matter that less shots are being taken as we miss the pockets. We’re already half past gone. Brad’s trying to type in his phone, but it looks like he’s seeing double. Harper’s leaning against Jackson, and Colton’s standing close to me.

He leans over as everyone’s distracted, his lips dangerously close to my ear. “His hand feels like yours, too soft.” His calloused hands stretch out over my bare shoulder, and it sends tingles down my spine. “What does he do?”

I flip my hair, knowing he’s going to make fun of him and also a little worried that everyone can see, but no one’s paying attention to us. “Insurance agent.”

A deep rumble escapes his chest. “Of fucking course he is.”

The night rolls on, and surprisingly Brad makes a few balls in and takes a few shots. But me, I’m competitive, and that’s why I’m way too drunk right now.

Brad steps away to use the bathroom, and I can barely stand as I lean back against something firm that smells of hay and smoke. Colton. “Hey there, darlin’.”

“Nice to see ya,” I respond, a hint of tequila on my breath. These inside jokes are returning me to high school, to middle school. Hell, to elementary school. All those memories filled with him.

My vision is fuzzy as I stand up to move away from him. He helps me, putting my hands on the table for balance.

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