9. Rosie
This bar is always too crowded, and the smell of cigarette smoke makes it one of my least favorite places to spend a Friday night. There are several reasons why I don’t normally frequent this place, but with Dolly’s recent confession and Holden’s sudden release from prison, I’m in the mood to drink a little too much in a sketchy place. She picked this spot, and tonight, I’d rather be anywhere than the ranch, where there’s a high chance of running into Holden like I did last Friday. I haven’t seen him since that night, and I hope my luck doesn’t run out while I’m inebriated yet again. The tension between us is becoming unbearable. He leaves every room once I enter, like he can’t tolerate being near me.
I’m not exactly sure what to make of our little exchange in the pantry or if my imagination was playing tricks on me. It’s been running through my head on repeat, which is driving me effectively mad. This is the type of thing I would normally confide in Dolly about, but she’s made it abundantly clear that she’s sick of feeling used by the women who are obsessed with Holden. Madi’s betrayal is fresh. I would never hurt my best friend, so the inconvenience of my attraction and contrary strong distaste for her brother are going to have to remain a silent suffering.
There’s an abundance of testosterone at Old Harry’s. There’s maybe one woman for every ten men. I’m wary of drinking too much more, although Duke agreed to stick to water and be our designated driver. I’m glad he’s here with us. I look down at my plain white shirt, hoping there are no mystery stains from all the tobacco spit I can smell going around. Thankfully, it’s still clean, and everyone seems a little too drunk to notice I’m not wearing a bra underneath.
“I can’t believe we’re having braless Friday here of all places,” I lean in to yell into Dolly’s ear over the music.
She giggles, shimmying her chest at me. We started the night off at the ranch—our usual spot for the tradition that we had kicked off in tenth grade. After we each drank our own bottle of wine, we were bored and tipsy, begging Duke to drive us to Old Harry’s. He only agreed because he was bored too. The rest of the Redford brothers hadn’t been around since I’d arrived today. I forced myself not to inquire about their whereabouts.
“Oh shit, it’s the third Friday of the month.” Dolly’s eyes widen. She looks around the bar that’s packed with people.
I follow her gaze, trying to see whatever it is she’s seeing. The few women in the bar are all wearing white T-shirts, just like me.
I tilt my head to the side. “What’s the third Friday?”
She points up to the stage, where a live Texas country band is playing. I look up, still confused.
One of the regular waitresses comes up beside us, ushering me toward the stage, where the other women are congregating.
“Let’s go, girls! It’s starting!”
I have no idea what the woman is talking about, resisting her efforts to usher me toward the front.
“What’s starting? Dolly, what’s the third Friday?”
Dolly starts giggling, covering her mouth as she lets go of my hand. “Go on! Maybe you’ll win! We could go on a shopping spree.”
I gawk at her, my head swimming with rosé and confusion. “Win what?”
The waitress shoves me harder this time, clearly annoyed with my lack of cooperation. I finally relent, shaking her off of me.
“All right, all right, I get it. I’m going.”
Maybe it’s karaoke night. I’m tipsy enough to shamelessly belt out a George Strait or Dixie Chicks song to this crowd. Who knows? Maybe I will win whatever is up for grabs.
“It’d better be a cash prize,” I grumble under my breath.
A blonde in front of me, standing in what appears to be a line forming to walk up the stage, turns around with puffy lips and a big smile. “It is! One thousand dollars to the winner!”
I perk up at that sum. “Oh, damn. Count me in.”
I make decent money working for the Redfords, but any extra cash I earn for my nursing-school fund isn’t something I’m in a state to turn down. “It’s every third Friday?” I ask her.
She nods, turning back around as she starts walking up the stairs, hips swaying dramatically. I follow her up, nearly tripping on the last one before finally reaching the top of the wooden stage. My scuffed white sneakers are out of place among the other girls, who are all wearing bedazzled leather cowgirl boots with Daisy Dukes or denim miniskirts. I seem to be the only one in black leggings, although strangely enough, we’re all wearing a white T-shirt. I’m the only one with a hoodie tied around my waist. It’s cold outside, but the bar itself feels like a sauna.
“Look at us, all matching. Ha-ha,” I joke.
The blond girl giggles before facing the crowd, pushing her chest out proudly. I face the drunken group as well, getting more confused with each passing moment.
Are we singing in a line? Is it a line dance?
I find Dolly almost instantly, who’s laughing and waving her hands supportively.
“Yeah, Rosie! You got this, babe!”
I wave at her, grinning widely as Duke gapes at me from behind her. I’m still not one hundred percent sure what we’re doing, but I’m guessing it’s either karaoke, a line dance, or some kind of trivia night. Either way, I’m ready to bring my A game and win.
“Woo!” I hoot from the stage. The cheer dies in my throat as the older Redford brothers appear behind my best friend and ex-boyfriend.
Cash’s and Sterling’s expressions are emotionless until they see me. Their eyebrows rise simultaneously with surprise. They look at each other before facing forward again, a subtle smirk on both their faces.
Before I have time to process the reaction, the oldest Redford is glaring at me, a dark scowl on his ruggedly handsome face. He’s very displeased. His expression is beyond annoyance, frustration, or even anger.
He’s enraged, vibrating with negative energy I can feel from over thirty feet away. He scowls, jaw flexing as he turns to say something to Duke. I force myself to look away. Whatever toxic family drama he’s wrapped up in is none of my concern.
“All right, gentlemen, after four long weeks, it’s the night you’ve all been impatiently anticipating! We love bringing you this incredible lineup of young ladies each third Friday of the month here at Old Harry’s, and as usual, only looking is permitted!”
I look around for where the voice is coming from, still completely in the dark about what kind of competition this is. A stage light shines in my face, and I raise my hand to block it.
“On the count of three! One, two, three!” the voice booms.
The girls next to me all suck in a breath, seeming to hold it.
“What is he?—”
Without warning, a bucket of ice-cold water is dumped on my head, causing me to inhale sharply. My body freezes up as my lungs stop working and my ability to breathe suddenly escapes me, the shock to my system blocking out all my logical thoughts.
“Let the wet T-shirt contest begin!”
My mind is scrambling to make sense of what is happening as I continue to gasp for breath. I grasp the girl’s arm next to me, feeling my nipples pucker up and harden as the cold water drenches the front of my shirt.
My chest is freezing cold, but the girls around me don’t seem to be fazed one bit.
The blonde grabs for my hand, raising my arm up with a holler into the crowd. “Yeah, baby!”
I glance over at her with my mouth wide open before turning my face toward the crowd, my limbs beginning to tremble.
An abundance of male eyes with leering gazes is focused on us—well, on our chests. I frantically search for Dolly’s face in the sea of hungry expressions.
“Dixon.” A deep, commanding voice demands my attention from the right, down at the front of the stage.
I look down, meeting the dark, unflinching gaze of Holden. His jaw tics, even as he keeps his line of sight trained on my face, never dipping lower than my eyes.
“Get the fuck off that stage,” he growls.
For a brief, fleeting moment, I almost listen to him. I do want off this stage. It’s way too damn cold for this, and when it comes to cold water, my feelings are similar to a house cat. Absolutely not a fan of this.
“Or what?” The words leave my mouth before I even have a chance to think it through.
I don’t want to be up here. I didn’t even know what kind of contest this was, but now that I do know, it’s certainly not worth the money to me, personally.
But if he would just fucking ask nicely.
If anyone else had come to demand I get down from this stage, I would have gladly relented and thanked them for the rescue.
But fuck him. Fuck him for telling me what to do or having the audacity to act like he hates me one hundred percent of the time then suddenly come to the rescue.
He grits his teeth, taking a visible deep breath before speaking again, his dark eyes glinting with rage. “Get the fuck down, or you’re done working at the ranch.” His hard gaze is unflinching.
“Is that a threat?” I bite back.
I’m sure he’d love to get rid of me. It’s clear as day that he hates me for what my father and my uncle did even though his entire family—including Dolly—don’t blame me at all.
Holden was locked up in prison while the rest of them gave me a shot at proving I’m not the same as the rest of the Dixons.
He’s stuck in the past, stuck where everything first went up in flames.
Then, it hits me.
He blames me.
I can see it etched on his face. He blames me, the daughter of the man who put him behind bars.
His voice is cold. “It’s a promise, Dixon.”