“Shorter the woman, closer to hell,” I mumble, finding my eyes drawn to Kacy. I can’t stop staring at her. I’d love to chalk it up to not having had sex in a long fucking time, but it’s more than that.
“Must be. She’s mean as shit all the time.”
“Or maybe because you’re you, and you cheated on your wife with her.”
“We’re separated.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Fuck you. What’s with you and California?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh,” he mocks, walking away. “I better not have to drag your ass out of bed in the morning.”
I check on the girls, find Sev asleep on Jace’s lap as he sits in a booth chewing on memories he won’t talk about. He’s lost in thought, whiskey in one hand, his phone in the other. I’m curious if he’s going to call Abbi, but doubtful he will.
Camdyn is with my dad, lost in an intense game of poker, and looks like she might be winning.
There’s another Gretchen Wilson song playing when Kacy returns to the table. She’s dancing her way back to the table, glossy-eyed and sexy as fucking sin. I want to grab her, throw her on this table and show her exactly what she’s been missing with a country boy.
I’m slouched to the side, with my leg kicked out in front of me. I smile at her, and Kacy winks at me. “Christ, boy. Could you look any sexier?”
I smirk. “You’re drunk.”
She trips and catches herself on the table. “True. So… this wife of yours. She’s a loser if you ask me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Leave a guy like you? Must’ve been fucked in the head.”
“Or tired of this life.” I lean in, my elbows on the table. “Sure. It’s fun here because you’re new in town. You’re not used to the drama or the rumors. Everybody knows your business.”
Reaching for her purse, she takes out what looks to be Chapstick and sweeps it over her lips. “You mean like Morgan and Lillian?”
“Yes, exactly. When Tara left, I was the talk of the town. That shit gets old real fast.”
“So is that why she left? Rumors?”
“Fuck if I know. She…” I sigh, thinking of Tara, someone I actively try not to think about. “She was destined for a bigger life than what Amarillo had to offer.”
“And you?”
“I was a temporary setback.”
Kacy’s eyes flutter. “She’s a bitch.”
“You know her?” I tease. “You are from California?”
Her eyes widen, her mouth gaping open. “I… don’t think so.”
I reach for my beer. “I’m just fuckin’ with you.” I take a drink, wishing we weren’t talking about Tara. And I definitely don’t want to think about the fact that we got married in this bar, and the only girl I ever danced with, until tonight, had been her. “Anyways, I haven’t seen her in three years. And I don’t miss her. She can have her wandering ways. I’ll take little girl giggles any day,” I tell her, my eyes on Camdyn hustling for her college fund.
“You’re quite the poet.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Have you heard from her since she left?” she asks, her gaze on her drink.
“She called once to yell at me for sending the divorce papers back.”
Her expression is completely void of emotion when she asks, “Why did you?”
I draw in a heavy breath. “She won’t give me what I want, and until that happens, she’s staying legally married to me.”
Lillian approaches the table, rolling her eyes at me and nodding to Kacy. “You stayin’ with me, girl?”
I snap my eyes to Kacy.
“Actually, no.” She smiles at me. “Barron’s couch is too good to pass up.”
So is my bed. I fight the urge to stick my tongue out. I don’t say anything, but you can bet your ass Kacy’s thinking about my bed. Look at her. Flushed cheeks, eyeing me like she wants to fuck my brains out. I may have been out of the game a while, but I know this look.
“Suit yourself.” Lillian looks to me, her expression flat but eyes glossed over. “See you Monday.”
I kick her leg. “Have Morgan drive you.”
“He’s done enough driving.”
Before she can leave, I rip her keys from her hand. “And I’m not scraping you off the highway later.” I toss them at Morgan, and he catches them.
Lillian points her finger in his chest again. I bet he has a bruise there by now. “Hands to yourself, cowboy.”
He snorts, pushing her forward but doesn’t say anything.
Kacy cranes her neck forward. “I don’t know his wife, but he and Lillian, so cute together.”
“And very dramatic,” I add, watching them fight the entire way out of the bar with her trying to get her keys back.
Somehow more shots are ordered, and our conversation takes a turn. There’s another Pam Tillis song playing, “Shake the Sugar Tree,” and Kacy’s swaying to the beat in her seat across from me. “I should have known,” she begins, but then doesn’t continue.
I raise an eyebrow as I set my empty shot glass down. “What?”
“The motherfucker that fucked my mom. I should have known he’d pull that crap on me. Billionaires. They always lie.”
“Oh, right. That guy. I forgot about him already.” Billionaire? Jesus. Where’d this girl come from? I’m out of my league here.
“He sucked. And not in the good way, if ya know what I mean.” To clearly point out what she’s talking about, she literally jabs a finger between her legs. Yep. Jealous of her finger. “He was a shitty fuck so I don’t even get why my mom wanted him. Probably because she wanted what she couldn’t have, but could have, whatever. Anyways”—she leans in, her tone hushed and shaky. I have trouble keeping up with what she’s talking about but am completely enthralled at every word that leaves her lips—“when we fucked, he had the audacity to ask me if I came after jackhammering the shit out of me. Did I come?” she mocks. “Ha. Bitch, ya, I came. To the wrong fuckin’ house.”
I think I’m in love. Swallowing, I lean in and brush my knuckles to hers when I set my shot down. “See, that’s where country boys have the advantage.” I swallow over the tightness in my chest.
“How’s that?”
With a sigh, my elbows on the table. I wait for her eyes to meet mine, and when they do, I push a little more of that Texas drawl into my tone with I tell her, “We might talk slower, but we never leave ya hanging.”
She sets her drink down so fast it splashes out of her glass and onto the table. Her tongue peeks out, wetting her bottom lip. “I think I’d like to find out.”
Contagious laughter, fucking crazy, blue eyes… I’ll do the math for you. It equals fucked.
I’ll tell you something though. This girl across from me, she’s like a shot of top-shelf whiskey. Packaged well. Strong. But never underestimate the kick because it’ll hit ya quickly.
How’s that for a fucking poem?
Another time in my life when I think about my life decisions and regret them.