Page 93 of Butter My Biscuit

She turns to me. “Don’t. I don’t want that kind of pressure in my life, got it?”

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

Remi continues to her car. “I bet you want to know how Grace is doing.”

“Nope.” However, I’m dying to know because she’s already started closing me out. Something I was afraid would happen.

“She seems to be moving on. Maybe you should consider it too.”

Her words are like a dagger to my heart.

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s going on a date tonight.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Promise me that favor first.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Boot Scooting. Seven o’clock. It’s why I’m not meeting y’all out there. I’m not getting involved in this thing going on between you two.”

An evil grin slides over my lips. “Shit, you shouldanevertold me that.”

“I know.”

She leaves, and I watch her headlights fade away in the dust of the gravel. Then, she turns onto the country highway and makes her way to town. I’m grinning like a devil when I walk back to the guys.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” Beckett asks.

“Because I’m goin’ out tonight.”

Cash drives us to the barn, and when we walk in, Sterling’s already finished feeding the horses and turning off the overhead lights.

“Shit, you’re efficient,” Beckett admits.

“I’m ready to get out of here,” he says with a shrug.

I’d invite him out tonight, but he can’t get into the bar because he’s still underage.

“Seven, right?” Cash says, pointing to me.

“I’ll be there.” I slide my keys from my pocket and then I drive the short distance to my place. The day flew by quicker than I thought it would. While I’m exhausted from training all day, it doesn’t stop me from going home and taking a shower.

Knowing that Grace is trying to move on and forget about us reminds me of that dull ache that’s been in my chest ever since we ended things. I’ve pretended I don’t care when we get together, but it’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do. Heartbreak like this is the reason I stopped seriously dating. As I rinse the soap from my hair, I think that maybe, in some fucked-up way, Grace is my karma for not giving anyone a real chance over the years.

Once I slip on my belt and boots, I check the time and button my dark-washed jean shirt with pearl buttons. As I’m tucking my phone into my pocket, Colt walks in, drops a bag full of tools onto the floor, then looks at me.

“Where are you goin’?”

“Boot Scooting, meeting Cash there. Wanna come?”

He nods. “I might, but I’m tired as hell. Did you leave me some hot water?”

“Hell no, I didn’t. Emptied it.” I grab my Stetson and pop it on my head. “Hope to see ya there.”

I close the door behind me and stand on the porch, looking up at the stars. A meteor skims across the sky, glittering, leaving a green trail behind it.

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