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CHAPTERTHREE
Joey
The beer starts to taste like water as my vision blurs. My butterflies are a distant memory as I belt out the lyrics of Fancy by the one and only Reba McEntire. I feel like a completely different woman on Robin's little makeshift stage. And if the cowboy at the bar who keeps tipping his hat at me is any sign, I might finally be noticed. Do I want his attention thought?
Hope will float if I don’t finish the song with a long, loaded, unexpected beer belch right into the microphone. I don’t think twice about it, and as the song ends, I step off stage, tipping up the last of my Budweiser, and head back to my stool.
“This was a great idea,” I tell Robin, who could possibly be my idol. She’s that fucking cool.
“Coming to Sycamore or getting drunk?”
“Both!” I tell her biting my lip.
“May I have another, kind barkeep? I promise I’m good for it. I’ll wash all your dishes or pay you the worth in gold.”
She laughs with a kind expression. Robin’s not laughing at me; she’s the woman showing me what a good time is. I nearly forgot what that was like working for my dad all these years and having zero social life in a small town filled with guys who’ve seen you in the all-you-can-eat hot dog contest. Turns out shoveling multiple wieners down your throat isn’t as hot as some would think. Or maybe, it’s just me. Robin would leave with some Jason Momoa lookalike if she entered the same competition. While I might have won, after eating sixty wieners in one minute, I lost appeal with the men in Starlight Bay and tourists alike. The few that were still interested, my brother Reid scared off.
I’m no virgin, but to say I lack experience, would be accurate. Now by the looks of the sexy cowboy at the end of the bar, I could learn a thing or two tonight if I wanted.
My brain thinks it’s a great idea.
So why do I keep feeling like it would be a betrayal to Gavin? It's not. We’re just friends. I mean, we both would have talked about love interests if we weren’t so weird. I laugh to myself at the thought, which makes the cowboy give me a raised eyebrow. Damn, I sure do suck at this courting thing.
I decide not to save a horse and call it a night when Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie blasts through the speakers filling the bar with a loud scream of joy. Robin pulls me to the dance floor. Believe it or not, I can dance. I think I can, anyway. I’m having a great time, at least, and I move my hips to the beat through my foggy haze.
The trick to pulling off this belly dance is moving your feet. Picking your whole lower half up and into the move at the rhythm of the song. My arms rise with giddy, drunken excitement, lost in a trance with Robin by my side; I almost don’t notice the man staring at me until his dark eyes lock with mine.
Gavin.
No mistaking him. I freeze at his expression. He does not look happy to see me. In fact, he is red-faced mad. His beard is longer than in the last photo he sent me, and tonight, he’s wearing a gray beanie. Dark eyes tear into me, seeming to see right through me. We finally meet after all this time, and I’m a drunken mess. A hiccup shakes me out of my stupor, and more follow. The crowd is getting rowdy now that I stopped dancing. Cowboy comes up in front of me, blocking our connection.
He’s tall and broad and smells really good, but he’s not Gavin. My lady engine did not get revved up when I first saw him. Nope, but it's currently pumping hard for the man with steam about to exit his ears.
Why is he so mad? We always said it would be cool to meet. He even promised we would one day. I really thought he would come to my birthday last year, but his Grandpa died, and they were really close. He shouldn’t be mad at me.
I stomp my foot and pout at the Cowboy. In my head, I’m frustrated with Gavin. He probably stormed out after seeing me, and I came all this way. The man in front of me thinks it’s something else entirely.
“Damn woman, you sure are cute. What’s got you so pouty tonight? You want me to make it all better?” He asks.
My eyes go wide at the forward invitation. Where I’m from, men do not talk to me like that. Do I like that? Before I can decide, I watch in horror as he’s jerked back by the shoulder and slams right into the fist of a very hulk-like Gavin Gold.
Is it just me, or is there a shimmer in that shiny raven beard?
Even with the music blaring, I hear the moment Cowboy’s face breaks against my heroes’ knuckles. Wait, is he my hero? How much did I have to drink? What is happening?
In a split second, Cowboy hits the floor, mumbling profanities, and in the next, my burly pen pal grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder. I land with a thud, my stomach threatening war as my head spins from the sudden movement. I take several long minutes and constant swallowing to calm the rising tide of my stomach’s contents, but when I open my eyes, I’m greeted with a jean-clad ass of a fucking god. Sculpted perfection, and honestly, I’m too close; the thing must be a masterpiece at the right angle.
Gavin smells like smoked barbeque, pine trees, and burned coffee, and my mouth waters with the urge to taste him. The combination does weird things to me. Stupid things that unfortunately make their way out of my mouth.
As he continues walking, the music fades, and a door closes. The fresh night air is a cool, refreshing welcome to my sweaty temperature.
“Don’t be mad. Be glad. This was always meant to be. You’re just dumb and didn’t come to my birthday party.”
“Did you see the video with the one cup, and the two girls? Dude that was not peanut butter. So Gross. Stop me if I told you this one…”
Air rises in my throat, and I push out a burp as casually as possible, then slap my hand over my mouth.
I’ll play it off by telling a joke. Distract him. Yeah, that’ll be good.
“Why did the sock cross the road?”
Silence greets me as his long strides become a steady rhythm. It’s soothingly quiet here in the mountains. I hear an owl hooting somewhere nearby and gravel crunching under his boots. My eyes are so heavy, so I give up staring at his ass. Maybe he’ll let me look at it later.
“Hey, can I look at your ass later? I’m so tired, but it’s so pretty I don’t want to forget it…”
Then the world goes dark, and the last thing I remember is a soft, warm blanket against my cheek.
