“You’re turning me down?” Disbelief colored her face. “Guys don’t turn me down.”
“Sorry.” I realized that nothing I said was going to change anything for her at this point.
“You’re an asshole.” Shayna slammed her still half-full beer onto the bar so that it sloshed over the sides and stormed away.
“Nice to see you’re still making friends and spreading sunshine.” Alex reached the bar, smirking at me. “So what’s it gonna be? Are we going to be grown-ups and head home now, at a sensible hour, when we still have at least some of our hearing? Or are we diving back into the tequila and getting stupid?”
I raised my shot. “Alex, my friend, we may be older and wiser, but we ain’t dead yet. We’re staying. Night is young, and . . .” I looked over his shoulder in Ali’s direction. She’d stopped dancing and was leaning over the table, talking to Meghan. While I watched, she skimmed one hand down her side, smoothing her dress, and then lifted that same hand to rake through her hair. I was pretty certain all the men in a twenty-foot radius were now drooling.
Ali picked up a drink from the table and drained it before she went back to the dance floor. Meghan stopped her with a hand on her arm, and I saw Ali shake it off. The room went dark, except for a spotlight on the stage as Mason introduced tonight’s act. The music started, and everyone in the bar went crazy.
“And what?” Alex poked my arm. “You were in the middle of saying something about the night being young.”
“Yeah, you know what? Doesn’t matter. We’re going to shut them down tonight. We’re going to shoot tequila until I don’t remember my name. Until I don’t remember her name.”
Alex stared at me. “Masochist much?” When I didn’t respond, he lifted his shoulders. “Fine. Your funeral, buddy. I’ll hang around for the ride. I just hope you’re prepared for the crash landing.”
THE SUNSHINE POURING INTO my room was going to burn me alive from the inside out. I was sure of it. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to yank the blanket up higher, to cover my head.
“Morning, glory.” Meghan sang off-key as she opened my door. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
“Oh, God, no. Never. I don’t want to think about food for the rest of my life. And maybe even longer.”
“You’ll probably feel better with a little something in your stomach. And you need to eat before you can take the ibu, which I have a feeling you’re going to need sooner rather than later.”
“Just put me out of my misery. Smother me. Hell, shoot me for all I care. Just do it fast.”
“Sorry, sweetie, you don’t get out of it like that. You danced, now it’s time to pay the fiddler. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” The bed dipped a little as she sat on the edge. “Hangover queen right here. Or used to be. I’m reformed now, but I remember what it felt like.”
“What was I thinking?” I moaned. “I’m too old for this shit. I’m a mom, for criminey’s sake. How can I tell Bridget not to get drunk if I can’t even do it?”
“Ali, she’s eight years old. I think you’ve got some time.”
“Yeah, but still. I’m not a teenager anymore. I need to remember that.”
“You’re not exactly ancient either. It’s okay to get a little crazy now and then, if you’re smart and responsible about it, which you were. So stop beating yourself up.”
“Is Sam pissed at me?” I might’ve been almost twenty-seven, but I still hated disappointing my big brother.
“Not at all. He’s already out in the fields¸ but he said to tell you to rest this morning and feel better.”
I buried my face in the pillow. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re dating my brother? He’s much nicer now that you’re around.”
“Happy to be of service. Now I’m going to leave this tray right here, and you eat some of it, okay?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Don’t be a smartass, or I’ll put you in timeout.”
“Hey, Meghan?” I lifted my head from the pillow just enough to call to her. “Did I dream it or . . . was Flynn singing on the bar last night?”
Meghan paused in the doorway of my room. “Not a dream. Sadly. Bet he’s waking up in the same shape you’re in this morning. Only Sam and I kept you from making a fool out of yourself.”
“Huh. Did he sing . . .”
“Elvis, Tim McGraw and Hank Williams.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “You know, I was going to let you rest a little before I asked you about this, but you brought it up. Why do you think Flynn got so wasted last night?”
I shook my head and regretted it immediately, wincing. “I don’t know. Because he could? Because Alex is in town and he wanted to hang with his friend?”
