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I’m lost in my thoughts, a small smile pulling across my face, when I’m ambushed.
“Brighton.”
I spin and find myself face to face with Elias.
Shit.
I nod. The less I say, the easier this will be on both of us.
“Three months, Bright. Three fucking months. You’ve acknowledged my existence once in that time, and that was yesterday. And today you’re back to the cold bitch you’ve been pretending to be since March. What the hell?”
I cross my arms, lift my chin, and hold his gaze.
“I apologized, Bright. I never meant to hurt you.” He plants his hands on his hips, eyes searching my face.
I don’t know what he’s looking for and I don’t care.
He points between the two of us, his face going hard. “So, this is it? I don’t exist and you’re in full bitch mode with no other setting?”
“I guess so.” I don’t say his name. It scrapes me raw to say it, and I need those emotions, that time in our lives, and my desire for him to stay dead.
“You guess so?”
I look him over, top to toe, pretending I find him lacking when he’s anything but.
He’s ruggedly handsome, his lean body strong. Strong enough to carry me. Strong enough to break me. His long-sleeved shirt rolled up almost to his elbows give me a glimpse at his forearms. It’s too hot for that today, but it’s tempting nonetheless. Seriously, he’s beautiful. But he looks weary. Not tired, but weary, as if he has too much weighing him down.
When my gaze returns to his face, a smirk plays on his lips. “Like what you see, darlin’?”
Fuck me with that darlin’. No clue why, but it does it for me. It’s not something he would say to multiple people. I know him too well.
I flip my open palm back and forth. “It’s fine, I guess, if that’s your thing.”
“Bright, you’ve been staring at me for a while.”
“Ego much? I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you around, okay?” I turn on my heel, only to be spun around with a hand at my upper arm.
Eli pins me with his gaze, before his face goes hard. “Always thought you’d be worth the trouble…” He never finishes his sentence, though, because he turns and stalks away having landed the death blow with seven words.
I want to shout back ‘you should’ve known better’ or ‘your loss,’ but all I can do is recognize the rightness of his statement.
I’m a hell of a woman. But, he’s right, I am trouble. He’s either not man enough to sort through the latter or not willing to discover the former.
… Or I’m not worth the effort.
I don’t have time to sift through that conundrum. I have horses to check on. The health of our herd requires my time and attention. This drought isn’t helping, and there’s always more to do than time to do it.
When that’s done, though, I have to find the bottom of a bottle. I just killed the desire of the only man I’ve ever wanted. The man I’ve loved since I came to understand what love actually means. I put the final nail in the coffin and hammered myself inside.
This calls for sad songs and lots and lots of liquor.
After work, I take advantage of my favorite room in the house and let the shower jets pound away my day. When that’s worked its magic, I throw my hair up in a twist, flick on some water proof mascara and lip gloss, and head to Crooners.
The local karaoke bar has a summer tourist crowd and maybe four or five locals. They know the drill. The tourists will just be along for the ride.
I order a vodka and Red Bull and waste no time finishing it. I’m on my third when the place starts filling up and I place my requests.
I start with “Tennessee Whiskey.” The crowd watches until several start dancing. I’ll give them a concert. I’ve got nothing but grief, disappointment, and liquor-fueled songs to offer, but I’ll lay them all out there.
