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The wait is torture. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, willing my phone to ring. When the screen lights up, I actually yelp in relief. However, his response just gives me a belly ache.Ridin a bull.
Riding a bull? Does he mean that literally? Oh god, I cover my mouth to hold back the vomit. Is Sophia riding him… like a bull? He’s drunk and she’s a scorned woman on the warpath. What better way to get her revenge?
This can’t be happening.
As tears prick my eyes and I slam the steering wheel in anger, a shooting star flashes across the clear sky, a sure sign from above. “Think,” I whisper to myself. Saxon would never cheat on me. I know that. But where the hell is he? And why is he riding a bull…
Another shooting star, a chaser, burns brightly, almost skywriting what I knew to be true but needed the push to unearth what was there all along.
Putting the car into gear, I tear down the driveway, thanking the universe for once again being my guiding light.
The moment I turn down the dirt road and see the glowing hue from the barn, I breathe out a sigh of relief. I made it. Saxon brought me here to Sawbuck Saloonwhen Sam and I had one of our many fights. Back then, I thought I knew what complicated meant. I now know that was a walk in the park compared to the clusterfuck I find myself in.
I park the car, not even bothering to lock it as I jump from the driver’s seat, intent on finding Saxon. The patrons outside, having a smoke, are chilled, the atmosphere calm, and if I were in a better mood, I would stop and reminisce, but I can do that after I find my man.
Once I enter, I stop in the doorway, surveying my surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of Saxon. The honky-tonk bar is in full swing. Johnny Cash plays over the speakers. The tattered cowboy boots still dangle from the ceiling. The fairy lights sparkle brightly, but it does nothing to lighten my mood.
Standing on my tippy toes, I hope I can find Saxon among the sea of nameless faces packed in this place. I peer over to the right, hoping to find him riding the mechanical bull—the one I rode and totally owned—but instead, I find some blonde living out her cowgirl dreams.
He has to be here. I clued onto his whereabouts when he mentioned the bull, and I can only hope I’m right. When we first came here, it wasn’t a date, but looking back, I suppose it was something more than just two friends hanging out and grabbing a beer. There always has been “something more” between us. I was just too stubborn and blind to see it.
“Dang it,” I mumble under my breath, moving aside when a couple pushes past me.
Reaching for my phone in my back pocket, I’m about to dial Saxon, but when I hear a mighty roar and the infamous “Chug! Chug! Chug!” chant, I suddenly get a sense of where he might be.
Excusing myself through the throngs of people, I walk to the back of the room where I see a mass of about fifteen people, milling around a barrel acting as a makeshift table. Empty glasses litter the top and standing dead center is none other than my boyfriend.
He looks like utter shit. His hair is snarled into angry peaks and the gray t-shirt he wears has spots of booze down the front where he’s missed his mouth. A glass fit for a giant rises to his lips as he does what the crowd has asked and chugs down the beer as if it’s his last meal. My attention instantly flickers to the handsy brunette by his side. Squinting, I see that she’s his ex-girlfriend, Laura Rose.
Saxon mentioned her briefly, and honestly, I don’t remember her all that much. What I do remember is her reputation, which seems to have followed her into adulthood because the pathetic excuse of a dress she’s wearing hints she’s still a promiscuous woman with her eyes set on Saxon.
Tying my hair into a top knot, ready for battle if need be, I stalk over to where Saxon stands, arms raised in triumph as he finishes his drink. Laura stands on tippy toes and kisses him on the cheek. Oh my freaking lord, forgive me, for I’m about to sin.
I look so out of place in my coverall shorts, stripy t-shirt, and Chucks, but I’m ready to kick some ass. Beefy buffoons slap Saxon on the back, egging him on to drink more, but the sway of his swagger reveals he’s had more than enough.
“Enjoying our date?” I quip, pushing through three sleazy men who almost coat me in their beers. If they so much as touch me, I will knee them where the sun don’t shine.
Saxon’s glassy eyes attempt to focus, and when they do, I stand directly in front of him, arms folded. “Luceee,” he slurs, attempting to hug me, but all he does is flop on top of me like a flailing fish.
“Let’s get you home.” I try to steady him, but he’s so damn heavy. I wrap an arm around his waist, but he almost takes me to the floor with him.
He reaches for the wall, regaining balance. God, he reeks of beer and cigarettes and nasty hooker perfume. “I missed you, baby. Come have a drink with me.”
“I think you’ve had enough,” I reply, still locked to his side.
“I didn’t realize you had a curfew, Sax. The boy I knew in high school didn’t obey any rules.” That catty voice just adds to my already frayed nerves, and I glare at Laura.
Her dress is white, but she may as well be covered in Saran Wrap. I’m pretty sure she’s naked beneath. To know her lips and hands have been all over Saxon has me wanting to give him a bath…in bleach. “Well, he’s not that boy anymore. Thankfully, he’s seen the error of his ways.” That pun is directed at her, and she knows it.
Scowling, she flicks her long hair over her shoulder. “Why are you here, anyway? Aren’t you living the perfect life with his brother?”
Saxon instantly freezes and pushes off the wall. “I need a drink.”
I grab his forearm. “Saxon, please.” I implore for him to stop whatever the hell this is and come home with me. But he doesn’t.
“Please what?” he spits, ripping his arm out from under my fingers. “I’m here to have a good time. I was supposed to be having that with you, but instead, you decide to spend the night with my fucking brother!” The crowd quiets, sensing the evolution of a full-blownJerry Springerepisode.
“It’s not like that, and you know it. I was working.”
