Page 90 of Bourbon Breakaway

I’m almost out the doorway. My mom stops me.

“Ashton.”

I turn. “Yeah?”

“When you’re done with the cake, go find Jolie.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Joy,Colt, and I light the candles as quickly as we can. With sixty, we need all hands on deck so the first doesn’t burn down before the last is lit. We manage to get the last one done, and Colt shakes the match out—it clearly burnt his fingertip a little, but he is still the first to burst into loud song. The DJ turns the music down, and everyone joins in.

“Happy birthday to you…”

God, I can’t wait to get to Joey.

“Happy birthday to you…”

All I can think about is her, and that’s when I seea pair of cowboy boots appear at the bottom of the stairs like I manifested them, because even without the rest of her, I know it’s my woman. Next, I see her thighs in tight jeans, and her perfect, womanly waistline and full breasts appear in the space, striking me like only the sight of Jolie can.

Hope sparks around me like static electricity.She came…

I watch her puffy strawberry lips join in song.

“Happy birthday to Rooooooon, happy birthday to you.”

She claps like the rest of the guests, and our eyes lock across the room. My hands make noise, but it’s as though my mind and my heart are totally disconnected from everything but Jolie’s eyes. She stares back at me, and it’s the first time I can’t read her thoughts.

But once I get her alone, I’ll stop at nothing to convince Joey we belong together. The past couple of days have been the darkest I’ve ever known, and I don’t plan on living without her light ever again.

Joy pats my arm. “Pass me that knife, sweetie.”

She cuts the cake, and Colt and I help by putting pieces on paper plates with silver number sixties on them. Eve and Sam come up to fetch them from us and pass them out to everyone.

Jolie has made her way over near the bar and takes a piece of cake from Eve. Sam gives one to a young rancher named Weston from town who sometimes sells to my parents. He beams at Jolie, clearly happier than a pig in shit to be next to such a fine woman.

It’s not going to be easy to get her alone.

I keep slicing through the milk chocolate and carrot cake until about fifty slices have been handed out. Mom and Fletcher haven’t come down yet. I give my dad a bear hug, pat him on the back.

This whole thing is a whirlwind of emotion. Mom and Fletch are still upstairs, Dad is oblivious and bouncing around the place with joy and laughter, and Jolie arrived before I got a chance to talk to her. To top it off, she’s doing a mighty good job of pretending to enjoy Weston’s company. If adrenaline wasn’t already surging, it is now.

Attempting to be discreet, I stare out of my peripheral vision until my eyes hurt, darting my gaze in their direction for brief confirmation that he is, in fact, flirting with her. It might be nothing, but he tips a finger at the person manning the bar, and next thing I know, Jolie is sipping a beer. She seems so relaxed. Like nothing has happened, just having a fun time with her beer and a bud. Maybe she stands by her decision. Maybe she’s already over it. A painful concoction of rejection and anger pulses through my veins.

And I’ve never been one to watch from rink side.

As far as I’m concerned, Weston is much too comfortable next to the girl I still and will always consider mine. I don’t want to be a dick. I don’t have any right to storm over with a tempest brewing under my skin and an urge to send Weston packing.

But I do it anyway. Even though this isn’t the time or place to hash things out, I am not watching some guy with body language and a dimple like Weston’s offer to get my girl a drink at an open bar. I have no idea if that’s what’s happening, but I imagine it all the same, because jealousy has a vivid imagination.

I sidle up next to the two of them and gaze down at Jolie, my voice is darker and more accusatory than I’d like it to be. “How’s that beer?”

She stares at me for a beat, searching my face for the deep, hidden meaning behind my question, and by the way she straightens her spine, I think she found it.

“Good.”

Weston doesn’t pick up on the tension between us. “Jolie said she needed to take the edge off, so I offered to help with that.”

Weston doesn’t realize how close he is to being slugged.

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