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“Or sex on the beach?” she continues.

I look to Trish, thinking the question must be for her, but she’s eyeing me expectantly. Well, so be it.

Squaring my shoulders, I adjust my glasses and reply. “I think maybe the logistics of having sex on the beach would be counterintuitive to the ultimate goal. I would think intimacy would be hard to achieve if one was in pain from the abrasive friction from sand in one’s nether regions.”

Rose looks confused for a second, then bursts out laughing. “I meanshots. You know, a Blow Job, the one with Baileys and whipped cream? Or Sex on the Beach, made with vodka and schnapps?”

We’re back in Big Texas Saloon. I’m having a bona fide girls’ night. Operation Social Life is succeeding. I can’t believe it. It’s enough to make me forget what my two new friends have dressed me in. Well, almost. It’s hard to forget when you have a piece of lace wedged up your backside.

Unexpected new information has been gathered tonight: thongs are the devil.

“Oh.” My face heats. “I’ve never had one of those before.”

Rose’s mouth falls open. “Never?” She turns to Trish. “You work here, why aren’t there shots on this table?”

“I’m off tonight, sassy pants.”

“So? Use your connections. For heaven’s sake, this is an emergency.”

“How is this an emergency?”

“Because this girl”—Rose thumbs in my direction—“has turned down not one, but two men who asked her to dance. She won’t stop fidgeting in her new outfit,andshe is determined to ignore my brother who has called and texted her like, a bajillion times this week.” She slaps her hand on the table. “We need shots.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to respond or not, but I feel the need to defend myself. “I don’t knowhowto dance.”

I tuck the fact that Rose knows about my Flynn situation away for later.

“Fine.” Trish stands up on the top rung of her bar stool, which is quite a feat considering the four-inch heels she’s wearing, and waves both arms overhead like a ramp service agent flagging down a plane on the tarmac. She gets the attention of the bartenders all right, along with everyone else. “We need three Blow Jobs and three Sex on the Beaches over here!” she yells, arms still overhead.

One of the bartenders laughs and nods in our direction.

Trish sits back down, ignoring the commotion she’s just caused. She eyes my chest. “I’m telling you, if I had known what was under those T-shirts and jeans you wear, Jackie, I would’ve worn my push-up bra.” Trish reaches into her dress and pulls her breasts up in her bra. A few men stumble as they walk past.

I laugh. “Trish, I think you just gave that man a mild coronary.”

Trish winks. “I still got it then.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you ignored the Flynn comment,” Rose says, redirecting the conversation. “And I know you’re not gay, ‘cause even my slutty ass was intrigued by the filth you had on your bookshelves.”

“It’s not filth! And don’t call yourself a slut. I swear, between you and Jules, you are both setting womankind back decades.” I peer over the edge of my glasses and try to look admonishing. She rolls her eyes, so I’m thinking I need to work on that.

“Jackie likes herself some cowboys,” Trish puts in. “No wonder you like it here.”

“These guys aren’t really cowboys.” Rose waves in the general direction of the bar and dance floor. “I’ll take you to the ranch sometime. You’ll be in heaven.”

“Ranch?” Trish asks.

“Yeah, my family’s cattle ranch is about two hours from here.”

“Wait.” Trish puts her hand up. “Your family has a ranch?” Trish’s light expression has changed to one of concentration. Maybe Trish has a thing for cowboys too. “West. Rose West.” Trish’s eyes go round. “You mean your family ownstheWest Ranch?” At Rose’s slight nod Trish’s mouth falls open. For the first time since I’ve known her, Rose looks uncomfortable. And once again I’m confused.

Rose looks visibly relieved when the bartender comes by with our tray of shots.

“Now ladies, you just let me know if you get another craving for a Blow Job or Sex on the Beach. I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

Bouncing back from the awkward moment, Rose laughs and playfully slaps his arm. “You’ll be the first to know, sweetie.” She checks out his ass as he walks away.

Trish makes a face. “Ew. No. That’s Craig. There isn’t a hole he hasn’t plowed around here.”