Drake appeared by the hood of the car.
“Want me to stay outside with the kid?”
“For now. Thanks, dude. How bad is it?” I asked.
“Never seen him like this. Not even close.”
I whistled.
“Any idea what's going on?”
“Yeah. We have a pretty good idea. It's a woman. Or a girl, according to him.”
That made me smile. I couldn't help it. Nick was one of the last of us to settle down, other than Drake. He was a good guy and he deserved to be happy. But like most of us, he had to ride the roller coaster of love. Which meant he probably had to be unhappy first.
I walked into a very strange scene. Donnie and some of the guys were behind the bar. It looked like Nick was ON the bar.
At least the top half of him.
“How are you doing, man?” I asked with a slap to his back.
He moaned. “Takin' a nap,” he muttered.
“Oh, really? Maybe you want to do that in the back?”
“No,” he ground out, somehow managing to hold a half-empty bottle of tequila in the air without lifting his cheek from the bar. “Need my bottle.”
“What's on your mind, my friend?” I asked.
The guys were all crowded around. I saw Molly and Janet not far away. They were talking quietly between themselves. They came over to listen when they saw me.
Even the guys who were usually chugging beer and fondling the local talent were quiet.
Nick moaned again. I leaned in, just making out his words. Jack had been right. Nick sounded bad.
“Too young.”
“What’s that?”
“Sit up when Dev is talking to you, man,” Whiskey bellowed. “Show some respect.”
Nick sat up and looked around. He was pretty wasted but not incoherent. He had apparently been taking an actual nap.
“How long has he been here?” I asked, trying to gauge the damage.
“He was already here when we opened,” Donnie said with a wary look. “He has a key.”
“Supposed to work tonight. Can’t stop thinking ’bout her,” he said mopishly.
“That’s all right, man. Take the night off. Who are you talking about?”
“Her,” he said dramatically. “She’s so pretty,” he added.
“How old is this girl?”
“Young. Her folks own Honeycutt Stables. Known her for years. Way before.”
“Before what?” I asked with a grin, having a feeling I knew the answer.
He held his hands in front of his chest, modeling some pretty big jugs.
“Before she . . . she grew up. I didn’t notice. Now she’s back, and I can’t stay away from her.” He looked at me, not nearly as bleary-eyed as he should be. “It should be illegal, the stuff I’m thinking.”
“But she’s of age, right? I mean, she’s legal?”
He nodded, looking miserable.
“Barely, man. Her parents would kill me.”
“And she likes you, too?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Nick was one of the prettiest guys in the whole club. Maybe even prettier than Callaway. He would be swimming in it if he took up any of the club girls on their near constant offers. It was funny as fuck, watching women throw themselves at him.
“I don't know, man,” came the miserable reply. “Probably not. Why would she? She’s perfect.”
“She hang around at the club?”
“Can't bring her here. Cause a stampede.”
"She's pretty, huh?"
"She's beautiful," he said dramatically. He looked absolutely awestruck. It was ridiculous to see him like this. The man barely even blinked when girls threw themselves at him.
"We have an idea," Molly said, looking around at all of us. "Bring her to us."
"We'll know if she likes him,” Janet added bluntly. "We are girls. Men can be dumb about that kind of thing."
"No offense," Molly piped in sweetly. I almost laughed out loud at the look on Janet’s face. She had no bones about offending us. But she was right.
"This is a good plan. We'll have a barbecue at the lake this weekend. Saturday work for everyone?"
Nick sat up and looked around.
“Wait. You really think you can tell? If she doesn’t think I’m a dirty old man?”
"Of course, we can tell. We're females. We all speak the same language."
The transformation in Nick's demeanor was immediate. He looked hopeful. Excited. And nervous as fuck.
"Sound good, buddy?" He nodded, looking dazed. "So, that means you have to ask her out," I prodded.
"Can you do that?" Janet asked, giving him a dubious look. She kind of looked like she didn't trust him to manage his own business. I had to say I didn't entirely blame her for that.
"I could invite her. I'll just . . . I'll go in and I'll invite her."
"Good. You do that," Jack said, landing a heavy hand on his shoulder. I saw Nick flinch a little under the sudden weight. It was hard not to laugh. Jack had no idea how big his hands really were.
"But let's get you sobered up first," Donnie said smoothly, sliding a glass of water under Nick's nose and pulling away the bottle.
“Yeah,” Nick agreed, pulling out his phone. “Good idea.”
“Maybe talk to her tomorrow,” I suggested, giving his phone a pointed look.
“Shit. Working tomorrow,” he moaned. “I don't think I'll be sober enough to go in at six like usual.”
“You could text her,” Donnie suggested.
"No texting," Janet interrupted him. "He needs to be able to see her face. He's got to have some sense of whether she wants to go or not."
"Right." I nodded. Janet was right. "So, you're going to have to hold out for another day."
"What if she makes other plans for the weekend?" Callaway said with a frown. "I mean, if she's that pretty, I'm sure she has other options."
Donnie reached across the bar and slapped him in the back of his head.
"Not. Helping."
"She doesn't have any friends," Nick said sadly. "Only horses. Hendrix loves her. She looks after him for me."
We all exchanged a look. We knew how he felt about his horse. That horse was family to him.
It was all the more reason that he couldn't fuck this up.
"Friday. You'll ask her Friday."
Everyone nodded. Mostly, I made club rules around here, but the guys tended to listen to me on just about everything. They were my brothers, just as much as my little brother, John, had been.
"I can't wait to meet her," Janet said dryly. I knew what she meant. We were all itching to meet the girl who had brought Nick to his knees.
Saturday couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter Seven
Melissa
Something came up. Give Hendrix an apple for me.
That's what the text said. That's all I'd heard from Nick since he left two days ago. I kept checking my phone and rereading it. “At least he texted,” I muttered to myself. He’d gotten my digits the last time we hung out. That had to count for something.