“Take a shot with me?” He slides one of the Fireball shots toward me.
He’s gorgeous, obviously, but he also knows it. I don’t love that. I shake my head, turning away. Rosie and Dolly are whispering to each other as we wait on the bartender to give us our pitcher of margaritas.
“I’m hurt, Purple. I don’t usually get rejected.”
Dolly smiles at me and widens her eyes like she’s trying to communicate something with me.
I tap my nails on the bar, wondering what’s taking the bartender so long and why he chose to serve Briggs before making our drinks.
“Is there a reason you lovely ladies all match tonight?”
“Just for fun,” Dolly pipes up.
“I like it,” Briggs says.
I turn to see him leaning toward me as he says it. I take a step away toward the girls. He takes the hint, shrugging. He grabs the small tray of shots.
“See you around, Purple. Come find me if you get bored.” He winks as he struts away.
“Ugh,” I groan, leaning into the bar. “Why did he get his drinks before us? What happened to pretty privilege?”
Rosie grabs my arm. “Do you not know who that is?”
Dolly barks out a laugh. “Oh my gosh, she doesn’t know who just hit on her.”
I gape at them, racking my brain for where I might’ve seen his face. The bartender finally finishes up the pitcher of margaritas and hands it to us with six cups.
“Thank you.” Rosie slaps the money on the bar top, and we turn to walk away.
“Okay, spill. Who was that?” I ask.
The announcer’s voice blares through the stadium as we’re walking up the stone steps to our box seats. It’s too loud to talk while walking, so they don’t answer until we’re in the box with Holden, Sam, and Duke. The announcer’s voice is replaced by music. I hold out one of the empty cups toward Rosie, who has the pitcher.
“Girl, you just got hit on by Briggs Crawford!” Dolly squeals.
Duke’s head snaps toward me. My eyes narrow, and he frowns. The name sounds so familiar, but it’s just not clicking.
“Do we know him?”
Rosie laughs, shaking her head. “He’s probably going to be in the top three slots in bull riding tonight. And he’s a model now for—I don’t know—Cinch maybe? Justin Boots? I can’t remember which—” Her voice cuts off when Holden blinks at her. She purses her lips, trying not to laugh. “What? Dolly told me.”
Dolly gapes at Rosie. “That was two years ago! I was brutally rejected and needed a fallback crush.” She turnstoward Sam, folding her arms across her chest. “Besides, he clearly likes blonds.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. I shrug. Sam wraps an arm around his wife.
“Yeah, well, he’s just a pretty-boy model. Doubt he can actually ride.”
“No, he’s good. He—” Rosie sees Holden’s expression and cuts herself off again, biting her lip.
“What did he say to you?” Duke asks me, his voice unusually clipped.
“He offered me a Fireball shot.”
“And he asked if we were the Powerpuff cowgirls,” Dolly pipes up.
Duke’s face changes, his skin burning red. He looks around us, like Briggs might just pop up out of nowhere.
No way he’s feeling jealous right now.
