Page 38 of Blue

“Get your woman out of there,” Dash said as he met Mooky’s gaze.

CHAPTER 12

Blue

Country music wasn’t Blue’s style, but she’d heard the song before. At the very least, she knew the refrain. So, leaning into Stella, more to keep from falling off the stool than anything else, Blue sang along with “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” by Joe Nichols. They lifted their half empty, quite heavy glasses above their heads as they swayed back and forth, missing every bit of the beat.

Laughing at themselves when they nearly toppled over, the women clung to each other. Blue needed this. The tension she’d carried the last few days had evaporated with each margarita. Mango, lime, and strawberry. She’d lost track of all of them.

Watching Stella twirl her paper umbrella over her head like a parasol as she told a story about a client filled Blue’s heart with hope. She could do this. She could move on from Mooky. Her life wouldn’t be all doom and gloom. She had Stella. Sarah would still come around.

Her friends wouldn’t abandon her. Stella could help her find a new mentor if it came down to it.

If he’s chosen you to be his woman, you will feel it in your bones. There’s no questioning his devotion.

Ginger’s words rattled in her tequila-soaked brain. Shaking her head, Blue tried to chase them out of her mind.

No. Nope. Not gonna go down that road while he was married.

If you can feel it, the complications may be worth it.

Stop!

She needed to stop thinking about these things. She was there with Stella, having a great time. This was a Mooky-free zone. No Odin’s Fury, nothing. This was strictly Blue-time.

“Are you stalking me?” His voice sent chills down her spine.

They’d blown past coincidental at this point.

Blue turned. “Dylan.”

Stella’s gaze darted between the two.

“What are you doing here?” Blue demanded. This was downright creepy. He was definitely following her.

He held his palms up and smiled. “Honestly, I’m just here with some friends.” He gestured behind him. “This place has the best tacos.”

Blue and Stella exchanged glances. Stella crossed her arms over her chest. If looks could kill, Dylan would be a bloody heap right now with the daggers she stared at him.

“I swear, it’s not what you think.” Dylan kept some distance between himself and the women.

“Ithinkyou should leave,” Stella said.

He furrowed his brows. “I saw you, and I wanted to apologize for my unacceptable behavior.”

“That’s not—”

Dylan stepped forward and brushed against her as he leaned over the bar. “Their next round is on me,” he said to the bartender.

“No thank you.” Stella waved a hand.

“Come on,” he balked. “You’re not gonna give me a chance to fix it?”

“No.” Blue borrowed her friend’s courage and mixed it with the tequila-boldness.

He frowned and covered his heart with both hands. “On my honor, I just want to make things right. Let me get you drinks.”

He turned his attention back to the bartender and placed forty dollars on the bar top. “Really, no strings attached. I got their next round.”

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