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I didn’t mind if Ford snatched my body up at all…as long as he didn’t take my phone.
“Jesus.” Linnett grumbled as she got up. “Y’all are embarrassing. I’m going inside to listen to the band. Ford, let her play the stupid Mario game.”
“Yeah, Toyota.” I shook my hips and upper body in a taunting way. “You should go inside and listen to the band.”
Ford narrowed his eyes at me, and I could tell that he was contemplating vaulting the table and coming for me.
“You’re making a scene,” he said, hoping that I would stop.
I wouldn’t.
But I had a feeling that we weren’t making a scene as much as he just wanted me to look away so he could make his move.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Are y’all gonna order? Or should I just get my food to go?” Trace asked curiously. “Because I’m starving, but I’m really tired. I had to work an accident today in the direct sun for hours. And honestly, getting home to sit in the air conditioning in my underwear sounds heavenly right now.”
Ford shook his head. “I think we’re gonna go, too. And, I don’t want to eat here.”
“Cool,” Trace said. “I’ll just order on the app since our waitress seems to have disappeared.”
Said waitress was talking to Linnett over by the bar where she was ordering a drink.
A massive margarita that she most definitely wasn’t going to be able to drink and drive home afterward.
Likely, she was counting on Ford to give her a ride, but that wouldn’t be happening.
The door to the outside opened, and a loud pounding amount of sound poured through, and I became extremely thankful that we hadn’t sat inside.
“Time to go,” Ford said.
I wasn’t falling for that. We were at an impasse right now. I couldn’t move, and he was waiting for me to slip up.
Because Mario was a big deal, okay?
Ford and I had a rivalry going that spanned twenty-plus years.
One time, out of desperation, our parents had sat us down in front of a television with Super Mario on the screen.
For the next twenty years, even now, we continued to play that fucking game.
And I was right on his tail.
Always.
But the only thing that saved us was that the game console was at home, in Benton, Louisiana.
The idea that Mario was at the tips of my fingers, though… yeah, it was about to go down.
Excitement poured through my veins, and Trace moved, allowing me to see his screen.
My breath caught as I watched him jump onto the green tunnel.
The next thing I knew, Ford was right beside me, latching onto me with an unbreakable grip.
And dammit if the high-handed ape didn’t bring excitement and butterflies to my belly.
Peripherally, I heard Linnett start to sing to the next song that was still coming through the propped open door. Linnett being the one that was now propping.
She seemed unwilling to go all the way into the restaurant and take her eyes off of us, but she also wanted to enjoy the music.
Bonus, she knew that the music would still cause me to have a headache if I had to listen to it too long.
“Tequila makes my clothes fall off!” Linnett hollered, dancing around the man that most definitely wasn’t her ‘date.’ He was the waiter that was trying to get through the door that she was standing in.
“No, Linnett,” I drawled. “That’s because you’re a whore.”
Ford clamped his hand onto mine and said, “Time to go. Have a nice one, Trace.”
Linnett didn’t even notice us leaving.
Trace did, however.
He waved as Ford tugged me into moving. “Have a good night.”
Ford snorted and led us to the cruiser.
“I’m driving,” I said as I got in.
“Whatever,” he muttered, walking to the passenger side door and getting in.
I got into the driver’s seat, pulled the seat up until I was comfortable, and then started it up.
Ford leaned his head against the window and sighed. “I’m starving. I can’t believe she went there.”
Ford didn’t mind the place that we went. He minded the country music that’d been pouring out of the speakers.
Ford hated country music.
The only reason he tolerated it half the time was because I liked it.
Any other time, he would leave it.
Ford was more of an old rock-and-roll, oldies, very old country type of man.
He hated new country.
Hated anything pop.
And really hated Taylor Swift.
Not because she sucked at singing, but because she sang ‘country’ that wasn’t ‘country.’ Even though I’d explained multiple times that she was now pop, and hadn’t done actual country in years.
At this point, I didn’t think that he hated the music as much as he hated that country had lost its way. And he was saying he hated it on general principle.
I drove silently through the streets, looking for my destination once I got close to where I wanted to go.
