Page 60 of Cold Foot Cash

“I’m not fancy,” she argued. “I drink canned margaritas, and use my middle fingers.”

“Right.”

“In fact…” Harley took a minute to suck down her drink. “Do you have any canned margaritas here?”

“I’m afraid we do not.”

“Pity. They’re my new identity.”

Tammy was busy making drinks from a ticket that had printed out from the computer behind her, but she was still listening. Tammy didn’t realize this, but she was probably her only true friend in Bozeman right now. Maybe she should order her a fruit basket. Those were easy to order online. She pulled her phone out of her purse and squinted at the plethora of text messages on the screen. Some were from Cash. “Oh my gosh. My friend is texting me,” she told Tammy, pointing to her phone.

“I love that for you,” Tammy called, shaking up a non-canned margarita. Yack.

“Heeey babyyy,” she said aloud as she typed. “I’m at the bar and I’ve made a hundred trillion friends because I’m so amazing at friendship and being enough for people and keeping everyone interested and sticking around. Extracting loyalty from people is my super power. Send. Why was the room spinning?

She held the camera up and took a selfie, making sure to get the heifers behind her in the background.These people took a picture of me to send to Lance’s not-garden-ho, so I am repaying them with a picture too. Cheese, mother facers.She’d misspelled motherfuckers, but he would get the idea. Send.

His responding text came quick.You look hot tonight. Can you take a picture of the bar top? I want to see what you’re drinking.

Weird, but okay. She did as he asked, and sent it to him.Tammy, my new friend, says there are no canned margaritas so I have to settle for a blue drink that tastes a little like sperm. I mean coconut. Haha. Those don’t taste the same. I saved your feather. It’s in my purse. Do you want to see it?Send. She tooka picture of her purse-feather, then sent it to him.I’ve named it Gregory.Send.

You’re feeling pretty good right now, aren’t you?he messaged.

I mean my whole life is over, but other than that, I feel great.Send.

The phone rang behind the bar and Tammy answered it. “Hello? Yeah. Oh, yep, she’s right here. Sure, I’ll make sure she doesn’t drive. Yeah, she’s fine. Hella entertaining.” Tammy huffed a laugh. “Yep, see you then.”

“Who was that?” Harley asked. “Was it your boyfriend?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Girl-talk time. What’s his name. Where’s he from. What’s his sign?”

Tammy was holding back laughs now, which meant something pivotal—Harley was hilarious, and that, ladies and gents, was a direct biproduct of not being with Lance Patchy-Beard Fallonherd, or, as she had saved him in her phone today, Fallonturd.

“Not my boyfriend. Yours,” Tammy told her. “He’ll be here in a few. Said his name was peanut or something.”

“Cashew?”

“Yep, that’s it.”

“Inconceivable,” she said, bumping her fist onto the bar top. “For I have no boyfriend, for I am still married.”

“Mmm, is it a marriage if your husband’s girlfriend’s friends are taking photos of you and making fun of you to them? No. That is not a marriage, that is a mess. Your dude sounds cool.”

“My not-dude, is a super-hot shifter with a six pack, and straight teeth, and he smells good, and he almost hugged me once.”

“Whoo, scandalous,” Tammy said, pouring a beer.

“I require more mead, Bozeman Best Friend.”

Tammy snorted. “I think you’ve had enough mead for the evening, my good lady.”

“I’m not good. I told you, I’m evil. I’m a villain, with a cape and a dark laugh, and heavy eye makeup, and a questionable moral compass.” She looked around this place with a smile stretching her face. “I like it here without my ex. It’s way more fun without him standing around trying to impress anyone who looks at him with his big words. Do you know, I never understood half of the shit he said to me. I think he talked over me on purpose. He always liked acting like he was better than me but when it came down to it, he proposed to me in a bar, when he was drunk.” She pointed to a table in the corner. “Right over there,” she said, pointing. A wave of sadness washed over her. Why had she said yes to him? Why had she done that? “Wait a second, did you say Cash is coming here? He doesn’t know where I am.”

“He saw it on the coaster by your drink. Did you send him a picture?”

“Son of a biscuit,” she murmured, staring down at the Hatley’s Bar coaster. “He’s a genius.”

“He’s also coming through the front door right now, if I had to guess,” Tammy said, pointing to the front.

Harley turned the entire spinning chair around to witness the sexiest hot-guy walk ever. Cash was wearing dark jeans and a light gray t-shirt that clung to the curves of his muscular shoulders. He sauntered toward her with the confidence of a man who knew exactly who he was. His eyes were blazing gold, and locked on her, and he hadn’t shaved, so his beard was coming in thicker. “Wow,” she whispered.

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