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“Of course you can. Stop hiding, Claire Bear.” Georgia picked up her punch and headed toward the kitchen to start washing the clear plates Claire had stacked on the stainless-steel counter.
Claire watched her go, a frown gathered between her pretty hazel eyes. Georgia just smiled, giving her friend her patented determined look.
Needless to say, when all the ladies made a grand entrance into the honky-tonk located just outside Holly Hills city limits, Claire reluctantly rocked a tight silver Lycra top Georgia had found at Saks for a song, painted-on jeans loaned to her by MC and red lipstick Georgia had insisted she wear. She looked not so much like lovable Claire Bear. She looked pretty awesome.
Georgia had donned a tight, black dress that ended midthigh, pairing it with soft suede boots that came over her knee. No jewelry save a pair of silver dangling earrings that brushed her neck.
MC had taken one look at her and declared, “This is Texas, George, not New York City.”
“Oh,” Georgia replied dangling a pair of flip-flops MC had kicked off in the corner. “Should I borrow your shoes?”
“Smartass.”
“Better than being a dumbass.”
Mary Catherine grabbed the flip-flops and tossed them. “No flip-flops tonight. I’m rocking my kick-ass cowboy boots. Now grab some cash and plan on buying lots of drinks. Tonight is mine.”
The Thirsty Cowboy was always busy on a Friday night. Ranch hands had paychecks burning holes in their pockets, farmers needed to shake off the dust, and local girls came to drink for free and size up potential mates. The zoo had nothing on the rustic, tin-roofed watering hole.
Catcalls and whistles erupted as the women entered, so Georgia curtseyed before heading to the bar. “Let’s get drinks and make ourselves available.”
Claire swallowed, looking around at the guys as if she were a rump roast and they hadn’t seen food in days. “I thought you weren’t into cowboys anymore.”
MC snorted. “You know Georgia says that, but we all know she can’t help herself. Wrangler butts drive her nuts.”
Georgia stilled inside at her friend’s offhanded comment. MC wasn’t far from the truth. She’d ridden many a cowboy in those reckless days before the pregnancy scare of ’01 and the intervention MC and Claire had given her. She’d grown up without a mother, seeking approval any way she could get it. Cowboys were good at approval... and shucking her out of her clothes. She’d taken a hard look at herself and discovered she had to make herself feel good rather than relying on cowboys.
Um, not make herself feel good that way... though she didn’t mind solo sex at times. But rather she had to find her happiness through her own accomplishments.
And that she’d done, moving far away from her Podunk Texas town, playing back row setter for UT, achieving All-American status, going professional in Spain, and starring in commercials and ads across Europe. She’d even done some runway work in Barcelona. Georgia had found what made her happy—kicking ass wherever she went.
Or so she told herself.
“Crown and Coke, Jimbo.”
“Name’s not Jimbo,” the bartender said, grinning, “but you look so good, I’ll let it pass.”
“Rusty?”
“Naw.”
“Bubba?” Georgia teased, picking up the tumbler of amber liquid and tossing back a gulp.
“Plain ol’ Johnny.”
Georgia gave him her best smile. “Well, then, plain ol’ Johnny, tonight’s my friend’s bachelorette party. Her last night to live it up before she’s shackled to Mr. Perfect. She’s gonna need a cowboy to be a little bad with, know what I mean?”
About ten men leaned toward her. Mary Catherine poked her in the back. “Jesus, Georgia. We have to go to Dallas tomorrow for fittings. I want to have fun, not wake up in my own vomit.”
Georgia turned and looped her arms around Mary Catherine, pulling her into a hug. “I love you, friend.”
Mary Catherine hugged her back.
“Well, awwwwwright. Girl on girl. That’s what I’m talking about,” the cowboy next to them drawled.
Mary Catherine laughed, pulling back. “Sorry, cowboy, we don’t let dudes watch.”
“Awww,” the young guy in a felt cowboy hat groaned good-naturedly.
