14. Madison
Liane pulledour rental car onto the shoulder of the road and turned it off. “Here we go,” she said brightly.
Too brightly.
“Here we go what?” I asked. “I thought we were going to an engagement party.”
“We are.” Her smile was a little too chipper.
I leaned far enough over to see where this event might be taking place, but the only thing I could see from my vantage point was a one-story ramshackle building with stained, vertical wood siding, two faded red doors, and windows with frames that were no longer what I’d call square. A neon sign in one window announced that one could find Budweiser inside, while the second window advertised Natural Light, whatever that was. Large black light-up letters marched across the roof line proclaiming it to be Roosters Tavern, while a giant, brightly colored rooster rose above the two words, looking sturdier than the building itself.
The parking lot was crammed full of pickup trucks of every make, model, and vintage. A few strands of colored flags and one of those creepy inflatable tube men that bend and whip around in the breeze, and it could have doubled as a used car lot.
“Where?”
“There,” she said less chipper.
“There?” I gaped. “Beau Edward Taylor, one of country music’s hottest stars, a man worth millions many times over, is hosting his engagement party there? A good stiff breeze and the place would fall down. It should be condemned.” I’d never in my life set foot in such a place, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“Of course not. His fiancée’s father and aunt are hosting.” She swung her door open. Mine remained closed. She snapped her fingers at me. “Let’s go.”
“Pass.”
“Madison.”
“Liane.”
With one leg out of the car, she twisted toward me. “We came all this way so that you could see if Ian is your baby daddy.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“Fine. Now pull yourself together.”
I peered around her and took in the venue again. It appeared to be leaning to the right. I cocked my head. “No, thank you. If that’s the kind of place the father of my child frequents, it’s best we just go now. I’m no longer interested in confronting him.”
Liane closed her door and inhaled deeply. But instead of starting the car and driving us back to the municipal airport where my plane waited, she turned and spoke to me the same way she addressed her most difficult clients.
“The people who own that bar and each one of those guests inside are good, kind, and decent people who take care of their own.”
“And that’s the beauty of it. When you have as much money as I do, you don’t need people like that to take care of you. You can just hire them. Okay? Now let’s go.”
Liane took my hand. “That bar is owned by two generous people who stepped up to help a friend and neighbor in need. I know this isn’t the kind of community you grew up in, but these are good people. I know this is difficult, but you can handle it. Just shake off all of those preconceived notions—like I had to do—and let’s go make nice and see if your baby da—father?—”
“Nice save,” I muttered.
She grinned. “—and see if your baby’s father is Ian Donohue.”
I glared at her, but she was right. If the situation were reversed, and I was a guy who’d accidentally impregnated some woman, I’d want to know. I didn’t need or want him in my life, but it was the right thing to do for my child.
I straightened my spine, dropped my hands to my side, and shook them out. With my body tingling and my mind at ease—more or less—I opened the door and put my Manolo-clad feet on uneven, broken asphalt, grabbed my clutch, and threw my shoulders back.
Liane stepped out of the car and looked at me over the roof of the economy car we’d been forced to rent at the airport. “Are you ready?”
Chin up. Shoulders back. Manufactured smile. I met her on the other side of the car.
“No, but let’s go anyway.”
As expected, the inside of Roosters Tavern was dark and dismal, but lively and jammed full of bodies. A country rock band performed on a tiny stage, and food was lined up buffet style across the length of one wall. A larger room in the back held the overflow from the main bar.
I held tight to Liane as she led me to a bar-height two-top table in the center of the room that must have been rented for the party since it looked as out of place as I did.
“Here, sit,” she ordered. “What do you want to drink?”
I gaped at her, horrified. “There’s no waitstaff?”
“Doubtful. Besides, I can carry two glasses without needing assistance.” She leaned in closer, not that anyone could overhear what she had to say between the band and the din of too many voices. I couldn’t hear myself think, let alone a whispered conversation.
“And you’re going to need to dial down your privilege, princess. Yes, half this place is more than likely farmers and blue-collar workers, but the other half is probably industry professionals, from record execs to high-grossing performers. Think of this as a business meeting. Who knows? You might walk out of here with a baby daddy and a new client or two.”
“Stop saying baby daddy,” I hissed. “It’s trashy.”
With a shake of her head and a frown, she asked me again what I wanted to drink. I was going to say nothing, as I was concerned about the cleanliness of the barware, but I did as she asked and toned down my privilege, opting for club soda with a twist of lemon.
I lifted myself up onto the stool and set my clutch in my lap. The elevated seat gave me a better vantage point to scan the room. The first person my eyes landed on was a woman in a white designer dress who I assumed was the bride-to-be. She was stunning. Her long, chestnut hair was styled into beachy waves and she wore the biggest smile and a diamond to match.
Well done, Beau. I knew he was engaged to his high school sweetheart, but other than her friendly smile and sense of ease, I wouldn’t have guessed she was from around here.
Dial it down. Dial it down. A man with slicked back hair wearing a plaid shirt with snaps for buttons bumped into my chair.
I was ready with my go-to glare, but schooled my features before I could eviscerate him for his clumsiness. He blushed and gave me a gap-toothed smile. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to jostle you like that.” He put the man beside him in a headlock. “Bubba here had too many Natty Lights and don’t know where he’s walkin’.” The friend gave him a shove to escape the headlock, but then leaned heavily on the first man and gave me a onceover.
“Hey there, darlin’.”
The first man spun the second—Bubba—and shoved him into the crowd. I watched as he pinballed his way across the room, bumping into guests, none of whom seemed to mind. Most gave him a friendly smile and tried to keep him upright as he stumbled toward what I assumed was the men’s room, given the sign that hung on the door denoting it was for COWBOYS. A door nearby claimed it was for COWGIRLS, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the toilets were fashioned to look like saddles?
“I’m Ray,” the first man said, holding out a large, callused hand. “And who might you be, pretty lady?”
I took his hand to shake, letting go as quickly as I could. “Madison,” I answered, not that I had any interest in making his acquaintance, but I wouldn’t be rude either.
He plopped his elbows onto the table top. “You here all alone?”
“I’m with my friend. She’ll be right back.” I looked over at the bar, hoping to see Liane making her way back, but she was still in line, chatting with two younger women beside her. I still couldn’t believe there was no wait service. Clearly, it was necessary.
“I can grab my friend Bubba on his way back, and we can make this a double-date. You in?”
My hackles rose and I pulled to my full height as if a cable dropped from the ceiling and lifted my shoulders.
“Am I in?” My voice was etched with acid. “Do I look like I’d be in? As I told you, I’m here with a friend. This is an engagement party, not a singles club. I’m not looking for a meet-up or a hook-up with you or anyone else.” I made a shooing motion with my fingers in case he had trouble understanding my words. “Now if you’ll just run along like a good little cowboy, that would be lovely. Thank you very much.” I huffed and turned my head, hoping he’d realize that he’d been dismissed.
“Jeez, no need to get all tore up. Just tryin’ to be friendly is all.”
I was tempted to shoo him again, but instead, held my posture and refused to acknowledge him.
“No need to be a bitch,” he grumbled.
A bitch? If he thought that was me being a bitch, he’d be in for a treat if he didn’t walk away. My nostrils flared and I cocked an eyebrow. Turning, I was about to let him have it when a flash of dark auburn hair caught my eye over his shoulder.
“Move,” I demanded.
He raised his hands in supplication. “Gladly,” he muttered as he disappeared into the crowd, giving me a clear vision across the room.
There he stood, taller than most of those around him. His auburn hair was shaved on the sides and long enough on top to flop over one eye. My thighs automatically clenched at the sight of his full, silky beard. I crossed my legs, which only made it worse, despite being aggravated at the jerk who’d left me a thank you card after the best sex of my life.
Thanks were probably in order, but he shouldn’t hold his breath.
More of the crowd shifted out of the way and I noticed that he was talking with an attractive woman. I recognized that smile. He was flirting, and for some reason, it made me angry. While I’d spent the better part of the last three months with my head in a toilet, this clown was living his best life. When he reached out and ran his fingers over a strand of her hair, I’d seen enough. I grabbed my clutch, dug out what I needed, and slammed it onto the table. Then I hopped off my stool and stalked across the room.
I was a woman on a mission, and when he saw me coming, his eyes narrowed like he knew me, but couldn’t quite place me. That angered me even more. After Liane figured out my baby’s father might be Ian Donohue, I’d done my research. It was him all right. If he lived up to even half of his reputation, he’d most likely fucked any memory of me out of his system long ago.
When I reached him, he gave me that sexy little smile that had charmed me back at the Four Seasons, completely forgetting the girl he’d been talking to, who was now shooting daggers at me. Too. Freaking. Bad.
Before he could speak, I jammed the positive pregnancy test stick into his stomach as hard as I could. “It’s yours, asshole,” I snarled before storming off and heading toward the ladies room to calm myself down.
I might not be a cowgirl, but I was about ready to cause a stampede.