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It was a Friday night and the mood had lightened considerably since Nelson and his crowd were no longer taking up space. Well, Nelson was still out cold, but he wasn’t causing any trouble for now. I glanced back down to the main bar and saw he’d been propped in the corner near the bathrooms.
We played a few warmup rounds and caught up on mundane life shit. Rachel’s dress had come in, the bachelorette party was coming up, and Clay had bought a small gaming startup that had been floundering.
He was far more involved in his family’s business than I was. My mother was still head of Douglas International and not looking to change things anytime soon. She was as odd as an Andy Warhol painting and worth about two hundred of them. Good thing since my worthless father just liked to spend the money, not actually work for it.
I wasn’t going there. I’d left home so I didn’t have to think about how my family put the fun in dysfunctional.
“Ready to get your ass kicked, Winslow?”
“Bring it, Dougie.”
“Fuck off.” I gathered my darts. He hadn’t called me that since we were kids. Before I could throw a blue dart at the board, a husky laugh floated across the bar.
My chest tightened and my gaze swung to the door. I knew that laugh.
Fuck.
Not her.
Willow Doyle.
I’d been actively planning to hide in my cabin whenshecame into town. Which was not supposed to be until the end of the month.
“Aw, hell.”
Clay peered around me and his face split into a grin when he caught sight of Rachel and Willow giggling and bouncing against one another as if they had pregamed before they got here.
“Hey, Almost Wife,” he shouted over the bar noise.
Rachel’s huge eyes glinted with happiness even across the damn bar. “Hello, Almost Husband.”
“Shoot me,” I muttered.
