Page 146 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“You two are so gross.” Josie’s already carving a path, head high, the others falling in behind. “I love it. I’ll take a Sangria.”
“Are you even old enough to drink?” Bronx’s voice is dry with the kind of tease that doesn’t invite closeness.
Every woman is a conquest to him, but with Josie, he’s oddly distant, like he can’t be bothered to play the game.
She flips him both middle fingers, walking backward.
“I’ll order for us.” Celi walks with us while the women veer toward the tables closest to the mechanical bull.
The place is packed, and the bartender’s moving at breakneck speed, expertly managing multiple drink orders at once.
Celi pushes between two men and taps the counter. “Hey, man, we’ve got ten orders coming in hot,” she shouts over the noise.
The bartender doesn’t look up but throws a thumb in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”
“That’s our girl,” Bronx says, leaning over her shoulder to slap a bill on the counter.
He grabs her shoulders and kisses the side of her head before stepping aside so the rest of us can add to the money pool.
“You think you own all the girls?” My voice is tight, cutting through the rowdy energy of the bar as I toss slap bills on the counter.
Bronx chuckles, but there’s something too smooth in his smile. “I’m not goin’ to touch your woman.”
He already did.
“I don’t have a woman.” My reply is too fast.
I see Celi flinch, just slightly—barely noticeable, but I catch it.
Bronx eyes me for a second, then shrugs. “Hey, no harm meant. I know the game.”
“There’s no game,” I grit out.
He lifts his hands, as if to show me he’s not trying to start anything. “I wasn’t hitting on Jade, and I don’t hit on every girl I see.”
Dean snorts. “Yes, you do. You make it a damn hobby. And it doesn’t matter whether she’s already taken.”
Why am I not surprised?
Dean elbows me. “Better keep an eye on her ‘cause he’ll swoop in at any indication and, you know—” He trails off, like we’re supposed to finish what he’s not saying.
“You know what?” Levi asks.
And I’m still pissed at this brother for blabbing my ant situation to everyone.
Dean thrusts his groin at his hands, framing what appears to be a pair of lady’s hips. “You know—”
“What the fuck is happening?” Bronx chokes on a laugh. “Just say it.”
“Listen,”—Dean leans in—“sometimes I wanna be respectful of Harper. I can’t just be over here talking about fucking allthe time. You know, unless it’s about me and Harper and like christening the shower earlier.”
“Bro, I don’t think she wants you to tell people that.” Levi digs his fingers into his closed eyelids.
Celi fires off a few precise commands to the bartender, then casually turns to us. Without hesitation, she mentally takes our orders, then leans on the counter, waiting for the bartender to return.
“You shut up.” Dean points at Levi. “You won’t even give us a hint of the new position you two are experimenting behind closed doors.”
“It’s none of your damn business.”
