Page 30 of Bourbon Breakaway

I’m still not over that backward hat and the way being this close to him still makes me feel funny. But what am I going to do? Head home and watch reruns ofGrey’s Anatomy? Logan is out of town. Sam and Colt are at parents’ evening—as a teacher and parent respectively. Molly is working her ass off night and day trying to get that sleigh ready, and Mom has her book club…

I shrug. “That actually sounds great. And for once I don’t have to get up early tomorrow morning. So don’t even think for a second you’re getting off cheap.”

“Shit, girl. You’re going to wring me dry?”

“And I’m asking for the top shelf tonight,” I tease.

He heads toward the exit. “Come on, then. Sounds like we should leave the cars and catch a cab. Or I can ask my mom to drive us?”

“How high school prom. Like I ever want to live that night again.” I’m joking, but he stops in his tracks and tilts his head.

I tilt mine in return. “Hey, it didn’t exactly go to plan for me.”

He flares his nostrils and shakes his head. “Not going there.” He points to the barn doors of the arena. “Go on and git with that sassy mouth.”

A giant ray of sun beams from my chest. It’s going to be a good night.

Chapter Nine

“What’s your poison?”I ask as I watch Joey slide out of her wax jacket and take down her ponytail.

She’s been wearing that jacket for the past few hours. On our way over, I thought to myself how nice it is to be around a woman who can just hit up the bar without having to go home and freshen up. But I guess when you have a rack like hers and hair that tumbles out of a ponytail like a silken waterfall, what improvements are worth making to impress a childhood friend?

Friend.

I haven’t been around a woman I cared about more than a friend for a very long time. And I’m pretty sure if Joey is one, I shouldn’t be staring the way I am and thinking about how one of her nipples is pebbled.

Suddenly, it occurs to me that Joey and I have never been out like this. As many times as we’d been together when we were younger, we never once hung out since she turned twenty-one. The other night with her friends was tame. She leans her elbows on the bar, considering the options, and her tits nest in the space between her biceps. Nothing about Jolie Hunter looks tame right now.

The bartender—the same one from the other night, Izzy, I think—comes over immediately. Course he would, her boobs are bait.

“Hey, Hunter,” he says, obviously familiar with my Joey. “Fancy seeing you here on a Tuesday.”

“Iz. Me and my friend here need to take the edge off.”

Izzy holds his hand out to fist bump me. “Hey, bro. Saw the game highlights. That was a fucking dick move.”

I bump him back. “I blame myself. Shouldn’t have taken my head out of it.”

This Izzy puts his hands up like he kind of agrees with me. At least he’s not a people pleaser. “What can I get you two?”

Joey wiggles herself into a comfortable position on her stool, and her jeans spread out like voluptuous blue frosting over a cupcake. “You have to ask?” She cocks her eyebrow. “You know I only shoot bourbon.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, we’re going straight to shots, are we?” And bourbon at that. We are definitely not in LA anymore. “Bourbon?”

“Yeah. And since you’re paying, I want the good stuff.”

Izzy smirks. He thinks her attitude iscute, and now I just want that bourbon here fast and him gone even faster. I order, keeping my eyes on Izzy’s, watching to see if he lets them wander where they don’t belong. “Two Whitetail doubles and two Chimayos.”

“Coming up.”

We’re not staying at this counter with a good-looking guy she knows. I spot a small booth and point. “Can you have someone bring them over there?”

“Sure thing.”

I grab Jolie’s jacket and tote bag from the hook under the bar. My instinct is to take her by the hand to lead her over, but I settle for a more subtle hand on the small of her back until we reach the booth. It’s a one-sided semicircle facing out into the room with a table. She slides in on one side, and I shuffle into the other. We both keep a small distance, like bookends.

It’s not busy tonight. Tuesday during offseason means there is a small group of cowboys in one corner—they’re actually playing cards at a table, and a couple is sharing some French fries and beers. A few people I assume are regulars are dotted along the bar. Before long, Izzy brings our drinks over on a tray and thankfully fucks off right away. He seems like the only one working tonight. Maybe I was a dick asking him to play server, too.

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