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A cheer goes up across the bar, and I turn to see what the ruckus is about. The baseball game is on, and Lil Bit didn’t even so much as glance toward the TV. ‘Watching the game,’ my ass. I can’t help but cringe a bit at her giving Reed the brushoff and then coming out with her girls to dance the night away. Kinda shitty to just not say ‘hey, dude, never happening’ and let the chips fall where they may. She’d seemed that type before, but I guess not.
I feel a bit like one of those old guys on National Geographic, in the natural habitat of these people but not a part of it. I’m just a sideline observer of it all—the guys watching the game, the girls on the dance floor swaying to get their attention, even Lil Bit’s transformation. All woefully unfamiliar to me. Not that I suddenly want to become a native.
No, thank you. I’ll be heading home soon to my family, where I know what makes everyone tick, what buttons to push, and when I’m stepping too close to the line. Where things make sense.
I flag the bartender down and order a third beer, not giving a shit because Katelyn’s driving home. As I take that first cold swallow, I feel someone sit down next to me.
“I’ll take another one of those Flyers,” a sweet voice says to the bartender.
Ah, shit, here we go. Lil Bit’s seen me. Hell, she probably saw me looking at her and is coming over here to threaten my life again. Might be warranted this time, at least.
“I saw you over here by yourself and thought I’d come say hi, so . . . hi.”
I swear to God I was given a brain at birth, and have even been known to be decent with ladies. But I’m so confused at the complete one-eighty of her personality and appearance that what comes out of my mouth is, “Huh?”
She blushes, nibbling at her lower lip, the white of her teeth bright against the red lipstick. “I just wanted to say hi.”
Not sure this isn’t a trick, I drawl out, “Okay, well . . . hi to you too.”
The bartender sets down a pink frozen drink in a swervy glass. Lil Bit takes a sip and moans happily. “Mmm, this is so good. Though I should probably stop because it’s my third. Don’t want to make too many bad decisions.” She sounds like I’m a bad decision she really wants to make, and a couple of hours ago, I would’ve indulged that choice with at least three orgasms. Now, my cock is damn near shriveled up in revolt. “Want a taste?” She holds the straw my way, and what strikes me the most is how clean her hands are.
Stupid, but the truth. I glance to my own rough, dirty hands, knowing I’ll see the jagged, stained cuticles, short nails, and scarred skin. I’d expect a mechanic to have similar hands from all the hard work, but Lil Bit’s are as clean as a whistle and look soft as a baby’s ass.
“What soap do you use?” I lift my chin, indicating her hands.
Her brows fall together. “What? Oh, uhm . . . lavender vanilla. Do you like it?” She pulls her hair over her shoulder, and I get a whiff of something floral and light. Guess that’s what she’s talking about.
I wonder if the flower shit does something for the skin? I should tell Shay about that. Maybe she could add it to her recipes for her goat milk soap business because if it’d get our hands that clean, all of us ranch guys would use it, even if we did smell like floral crap twenty-four seven.
She’s looking at me expectantly, and I realize she asked me a question. I don’t remember what it was, so I go to my default grunt.
My phone buzzes against the counter, the screen bright in the now dimmer bar. I glance down.
Shayanne: You missed dinner, asshole.
Shay speaks my language. What she means is ‘I missed you at dinner, are you okay? Because I’m worried.’
I send her a middle finger emoji, which she’ll take to mean, ‘I’m fine, home soon,’ even though what I really mean is ‘fuck off.’
Lil Bit seems to be reading over my shoulder because she asks, “That your wife?”
I look at her through narrowed eyes, not happy that she’s all up in my business. Hell, I don’t let Shay get in my business and she is my business. Though now that she’s married to Luke Bennett, I pawn her off on him as much as I can because he signed up for that gig with a diamond ring. She’s his problem now, I think happily. Shay did good with him, much as I hate to admit it.
