Page 113 of Lost Trust

Harleigh leans forward between the seats. “Best honky-tonk in Wyoming.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Clever name.”

She grins. “It’s spacious inside, with a stage for the house band and a great dance floor and lots of tables. There’s a separate area with pool tables and dartboards, but they took out two pool tables and knocked down the wall to one of the storage rooms to make room for a mechanical bull. They also installed a couple of big-screen TVs over the bar.”

“Why would they install TVs if they have a band?”

Harleigh grins. “They’re playing Axle’s ride.”

Oh, right. The Dinosaur is this weekend.

I look over at Jovie. “You excited to see Axle ride?”

She smiles. “I am.” Then she makes a face. “But honestly? I don’t know if it’s worse, being arena-side, knowing that if he gets hurt, I can get to him immediately”—her gaze shifts to Royce—“or sitting in a bar, watching him get tossed around on a giant screen and knowing there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

Harleigh reaches over and pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

Jovie looks at her. “We’ll make sure you have enough tequila that you don’t think too much about it tonight.”

Royce snorts. “Yeah. A plan that has absolutely no chance of backfiring.”

Harleigh looks pleased with herself.

“True,” I say. “I’m a pretty cheap drunk myself. One too many, and I lose all control of my emotions.”

Royce’s lips curl. “Your emotions? Or your inhibitions?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Emotions. I tend to cry a lot.”

He chuckles. “You’re a sad drunk?”

“I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m angry.”

He grins. “How about when you’re satisfied?”

I elbow him in the ribs.

“Ouch,” he says.

I turn, and my face is almost in his neck. “You would know.”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, and I watch his fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

He slides his eyes to me. “You ladies need to behave yourselves tonight.”

From the back seat, Cabe says, “Harleigh especially.”

She twists around. “I always behave myself.”

Everyone in the truck except me laughs.

“I promised Porter I’d keep a close eye on you until he picks you up,” Cabe says.

Harleigh huffs. “He knows better than anyone that I can hold my liquor.”

“Right,” Cabe says.

“Where is Porter tonight?” I ask, turning to look at Harleigh.