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“I have no idea, Momma. It just feels different this time, more personal somehow.”
Releasing my hands, she cups my face. “Personal or not, if this guy made you feel poorly about yourself for even a fraction of a second, he’s not worth the time or effort you put into your appearance today. Forget him, Cora.” Her lips turn up in a wicked grin. “But since you’re looking like a million bucks tonight, you go to work, and you make that asshole see just what he’s missing out on.”
TWATKNOT
I’ve been sittingin the parking lot outside the Moose Knuckle all day under the sweltering sun, watching for her to pull up. As soon as the open sign clicks on, and the early crowd starts funneling into the bar for karaoke night, I waste zero time and head inside, making a beeline straight to the bar, but my heart sinks to the floor when I see a man setting up the glasses, and Cora nowhere in sight.
“Cora here?” I ask the guy.
“She’s in the back.” Drying a glass, he rests his hip against the waist-high beer cooler and studies me. “Are you a friend or something?”
“Or something,” I mutter. Before I’d opened my big mouth, I would’ve been happy to answer that question with a yes.
“Want a beer while you wait?”
Fuck yeah, I’ll take anything to calm my racing heart. But then again, beer is what got me into this mess in the first place. Deciding it’s the last thing I need right now, I decline and pretend not to notice when the guy continues to eye me with suspicion before moving on down the bar to take orders.
With nothing else to do, I take a seat on the barstool and I wait, and wait. I wait long enough that I’m starting to think this asshole lied to me about her being here at all. But as soon as karaoke starts up, she finally appears.
Her eyes are dull, like the light behind them has dimmed. Her cocky smile has been replaced with a deep-set frown. Guilt punches me in the gut, because I’m fairly certain I’m the reason she looks like this.
But the rest of her… Fuck, the rest of her looks incredible with those soft curves and ample cleavage. Her silky hair shines in the fluorescent lights, making her look like a damn angel from above. I’d always found Cora to be attractive, but I’d never reallylookedat her before right now.
She’s much more than attractive, she’s ethereal.
I watch her take orders at the opposite end of the bar, marveling at the poise and confidence she has when dealing with a rowdy group. The woman is fearless.
A friendly smile adorns her lips as she shoots the shit with the customers, but the instant her eyes land on me, her smile damn near shatters.
“Cora, I’m—”
“Get the fuck out of my bar,” she orders, pointing to the doors.
“Cora, please,” I try again, but she’s ignoring me now. When she takes the drink order from the guy sitting to my left, she gives him a wide smile while pretending I’m not even there.
Goddammit.
“Cora.” This time, her name comes out as more of a command, and the people sitting around lower their voices, wondering what the hell’s going on.
“Get out,” she repeats, not once looking at me.
“Not until we talk.”
“I have zero interest in talking to you.”
“Come on, Cora,” I plead, my voice sounding more like a whine at this point. “I waited in the fucking parking lot all day to talk to you.”
Snagging a glass from the bar, she rolls her eyes.
I rake my hand over my face and growl. Is it always this hard to apologize to a woman? If it is, then it’s no damn wonder men surrender the second they fuck up.
“Why are you acting like this? I’m trying to apologize to you.”
She halts mid-stride and pivots, glaring coldly at me. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you used to bimbos who fall at your feet whenever you grace them with your presence?”
I frown, taken aback. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Why won’t she give me a chance to explain? She’s mad, furious, even, and I get it, but I came here to try to make amends. I just need her to listen to me.
“I’m just a fat, mouthy bartender, remember? I don’t exactly fit into the mold of whores and porn stars that you normally slum around with.” Her words hit me like an arrow to the chest. I deserve that. Hell, I more than deserve that. “Now, if you’ll fucking leave,” she continues, “I have a job to do.”
