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She sees him doing just that and sighs. “You’re good, right?”
“I will be, thanks to you.”
She looks me over before turning on her heel and heading back to our group, leaving me to make my decision.
The only way I’m going to figure this shit out is to talk to her, to apologize, and hope she accepts it. That’s all I have. The only problem is that the bar doesn’t open for hours, and I have no idea if she’s even working today. I’m kicking myself for not getting her number when I put mine in her phone. It would’ve made this so much easier than just showing up and pissing her off even more, but the only option I have is to sit and wait for the bar to open.
CORA
Climbing out of the shower,I send a wish out into the universe for the night off, but I know it’s useless. Besides, when was the last time I got my way?
Why do you even care, Cora? He’s just another asshole biker that’ll be gone in a few days. What’s the big deal?
But that’s the big question, isn’t it? TK was nothing to me in the grand scheme of things, so why did his words make me want to put on my baggiest sweater and comfiest jogging pants to wear to work tonight? Something that would cover my body, shielding it from the judgmental eyes of everyone that comes into the Moose Knuckle.
But jogging pants aren’t exactly bartender attire. And besides… fuck TK.
Forty-five minutes later, my hair hangs down my back in soft, loose curls. My make-up is done, and I’d even pulled out that new contouring palette I’d bought months ago and never used.
I slide on my ripped, high-rise jeans, the ones that make my ass look like a round, juicy apple. And when I pull out the bright red halter top, I realize I’ve done this on purpose.
I know TK is going to be there tonight, and I know that son of a bitch is going to come up with some bullshit excuse about why he said what he did, and try to cram some pitiful apology down my throat. But I’m not having it. I’m going to look hot as fuck while he tries, though.
I walk into the living room and plant a kiss on the top of my son’s head.
“Wow, Momma. You look pretty.”
“Thank you, baby.”
My father eyes me from the couch. “You do look pretty. Who’s the guy?”
“Oh, Dad. You know you’re the only man for me.”
“Hey!” Harrison cries, a frown creasing the smooth skin between his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“You’re the only man for me too,” I assure him.
“You can’t have two mans.”
My father sits back and crosses his ankle over his knee before taking a sip of his beer. “You’d be surprised, champ. Girls as pretty as your momma can have as many mans as they want.”
“Dad!” I gasp, picking up a decorative pillow and chucking it at him.
He laughs, catching it midair, then stuffs it behind his head, as if he’d been hoping I’d throw it all along. He and Harrison go back to watching the ball game on TV, and I make my way into the kitchen to grab my purse.
“Who’s the guy?” my mom asks, stepping out of the pantry, scaring the shit out of me.
“God, Mom, don’t do that,” I wheeze out, clutching my hand to my chest. “And what do you mean, ‘who’s the guy’?”
Placing a can of peaches on the counter, she gives me a knowing look. “You put more effort into your appearance than you usually do. And that top shows a lot more of your ladies than we usually see.”
My cheeks heat as I look down at the very prominent line of cleavage I’m sporting. With a heavy sigh, I plop down onto the stool across from her and place my forehead on the cool countertop. “It’s not a guy. Well, I mean, not really.” I raise my head and look at her. “I heard someone say something about my weight last night, and I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter, but I guess it does. I just want to show him that I may be a little bigger than some, but I’m still a desirable woman.”
My mother frowns. “Desirable? Cora, you’re beautiful.”
I snort. “All mothers think their kids are beautiful.”
“Yes, that’s true, but it’s different in this case. Honey, look in a damn mirror. You’re not some rail thin, overdone Barbie doll like that Rachel girl you still talk to. You’re soft and feminine. You have big, beautiful brown eyes, and your skin is like silk.” Reaching out, she grabs my hands and squeezes them in hers. “Why do you care what this guy says, anyway? You never usually pay any mind to that stuff.”
