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“And then other times, I see a mother struggling with a toddler throwing a fit in one hand and a stroller in the other while she tries to open the door to Starbucks and think,Thank god that isn’t me. Do you know how many times I’ve seen a mother struggling in public just to have not a single person help her, even though a dozen walk by?”
Too many to count, I’m sure.
“You could still have all of that,” I tell her, kissing the side of her head. “You could scale back, try to meet the right person and settle down. You don’t have to have kids to have a full life. But if you want a partner, make it happen.”
She turns around in my arms to look up at me. I wonder for a second if she’s going to say something about us. But just as she’s about to say something, the bouncer calls us forward. We jump apart like we’ve been caught doing something illegal, but she just laughs it off and chats up the guy as she shows him her ID.
I don’t know if it’s just who she is or if it’s from having to work with so many people over the years in the company, but she can make small talk with anyone. She knows how to make friends wherever she goes.
Once we’re inside, the music is impossibly loud, and it’s so full of people that I grab hold of her hand and make her hold on to my back pocket. I lead the way, fighting through the people to try and get to the bar. If I’m going to be forced to listen to country music all night, I’m going to need a few drinks in me.
“What’ll it be?” The bartender yells in our direction once he finally makes his way over to us.
“Kentucky is known for its bourbon. Tennessee is known for, what? Whiskey? Should we get whiskey?” she asks, shouting over the music.
“Or moonshine,” the bartender offers, smiling at her.
It plants a seed of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. She isn’t mine. I do not own her. I do not have any type of claim to her whatsoever. But to see other men openly taking an interest makes me go a little crazy on the inside.
She used to love that about me—my possessive streak. Anytime we were in public, and I showed my ass because someone got a little too close or stared a little too long, she’d always drag me home to fuck for the entire night.
“Moonshine!” she cheers, her eyes lighting up. “Two shots each and a couple Coronas.”
I lean in close, letting my lips brush against her ear. “Two shots each? Do you know what you’re getting into with moonshine?”
Her head swivels toward me, and our mouths almost touch. Her pretty blue eyes dip to my lips, and she bites her own before looking back up at me. There’s a crackle of electricity between us.
Our bodies are pushed close together with people on either side. Her chest is pressed up against mine, and her hand slides around my hips to settle inside my back pocket. That fucking smile she wears promises nothing but trouble.
“Never had it,” she admits with a shrug. “But something tells me we might need it tonight.”
The bartender comes back and sets everything down on the bar. She never takes her eyes off me as she holds a credit card out toward him between two fingers. I have no idea where she pulled that from, but the asshole inside of me is thrilled that she hasn’t even looked in his direction.
There may be fifty other men in this bar that would crawl on their fucking knees to have a chance with her. But I already have.
We both grab a shot off the sticky bar and hold each other’s eyes as we throw back the first shot. It burns the entire fucking way down, and I cringe when it hits my stomach and sets it on fire. When I breathe out, it lights up my entire fucking face.
And it must do the same to her because her face turns a deep red before she breaks eye contact and half laughs, half coughs, into her arm.
“Holy shit!” she says before picking up the second shot. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
She hands me mine, and we down the second shot. I don’t know about her, but I have to fight the urge to let it all come back up. I’m not used to this shit. It’s like drinking rubbing alcohol.
I cough once and reach out to grab the beer, hoping it’ll dull the burn in my stomach. She’s bent over in laughter, probably at how fucking red my entire face is as I desperately drink the beer to cool off.
“You should see your face!” she shouts over the noise.
“You don’t look much better!”
“Dance with me!”
I groan and roll my eyes, but when the bartender shows back up, card in hand, I’m suddenly very eager to get her away from the bar.
“Alright, then,” I concede, grabbing the Corona off the bar and holding out my hand. “Show me how it’s done, country girl.”
CHAPTERFOUR
She takes my hand and pulls me to the middle of the dance floor. I feel incredibly out of place here. While I’ve been to a lot of different bars and clubs in my life, I’ve never been surrounded by so many people in cowboy boots.
