Chapter 3 COWGIRLS AND COCKTAILS
JADE
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I BARELY HAVE a chance to step through the door, and Josie’s hand shoves my back, sending me stumbling into the Kiwi’s Bar.
The air is thick with the scent of whiskey, leather, cloves, and burnt tobacco—Kiwi’s signature scent.
Before I can even straighten, the dim lights flicker on, and an explosion of confetti bursts into my face.
I jump, and blink, and scream, all at the same time.
“Happy Birthday!”
My sisters and cousins leap out from behind booths, tables, and the bar, ambushing me in a party I would never want.
“Surprise!!” Their screams are deafening, and echo off the exposed metal pipes running above the green walls.
Hannah drapes a glittery sash over my shoulder, the bright pink blinding against my usual neutrally hued wardrobe.
Hope thrusts a bouquet of helium balloons into my hand. The giant three and zero in rose gold foil twinkle off the pendant lights along the ceiling, surrounded by enough latex balloons that I’m surprised I don’t float away. All zipping upward from the strings I grip.
The balloons? Fine.
The sash? Whatever.
But when Natalie takes my hat? That’s where I draw the line.
I reach for it. “Wait, I want that—”
A ridiculous, oversized glittery tiara is placed on my head. Its gaudy jewels spell out “Happy Birthday” in bold, flashy letters.
I’m so not impressed.
My hair pulls when Josie loosens and tightens my ponytail, dragging it upward to the middle of my head.
I hit her hands away and rub my scalp. “Stop.” My brain scrambles to catch up. “Good Lord, why?”
“The big 3-0!” Hope blows a party horn so loud it blares over the country song blasting from the jukebox. “Since we’re going to be at the rodeo on your birthday, we thought we’d celebrate before we go.”
I’d rather have a quiet night in with sweatpants, watching the nature channel, and a bowl of queso I don’t have to share.
I glance down at the pink sash that reads “I’m a Wild One.”
I get what they’ve done here.
The words scream their intention, and the “wild” part is a little too on-the-nose. I’d rip it off, but I let them have their moment. Let them think their little wink toward Hart Wilde is so clever.
If only they realized how off the mark they are.
We fight out of pure hatred, not some hidden attraction.
That’s how we were raised, and my sister marrying his brother doesn’t just erase years of built-up anger.
But that’s just scratching the surface. And even I can’t hide from my own lie.
No wonder I’ve never been able to convince them otherwise.
Josie straightens the sash. “You like it?” The wicked little smile that creeps up her lips gives her away.
Before I can cuss her out, my cousins Daisy and Celi wrap me in a big hug, nearly suffocating me in the process.
“Happy Birthday, Cuz.”
My sisters join in this group hug that feels like it’s never going to end, much like the glittery confetti still floating in the air.
I’m grateful when I spot Kiwi round the counter with a tray of drinks. Alcohol has never called my name the way it does right now.
That’s saying something, considering I’m Celi’s taste tester. My cousin works at the main bar at The Fox Lodge and is a master at mixing unusual cocktails, famous for her fun, seasonal drinks.
St. Patrick’s Day was this month, and she served green cotton candy-topped mojitos, shamrock-flavored snow cones with a shot of whiskey, and a Guinness float that had everyone talking—including me.
I like a stiff drink at the end of a long day and today is not the exception.
Kiwi hums and moves with the music, her bony hips rolling with each stride, as if she’s not in her eighties. No one knows for sure. She refuses to reveal her age and will most likely take the number to her grave.
“Where’s our birthday girl?” Her voice is a husky rasp, courtesy of the cigarettes she’s always puffing on.
She rocks biker-chic like it’s her second nature. Leather jacket scuffed with years of stories, cherry red hair woven into a messy bun tucked under a perfectly tied bandana. Plus, a hole in the arm of the jacket where she always displays her heart tattoo.
Finally, the girls release me from their deadly grasp, clearing the way for Kiwi to step into our circle with the drinks.
“First round of birthday martinis is on the house.” Kiwi shifts the weight of the tray, balancing it on one hand like a seasoned pro.
Until a slight tremor passes through her, making the glasses clink together.
We all hold our breath, but none of us dares point it out or reach to steady the tray. No one would if they knew what was best for them. Kiwi’s got a temper that’d knock a person sideways.
“Ain’t every day I let anyone get near my bottles, but today’s an exception. Celi’s mixed up something special for the birthday girl.”
Each martini glass rimmed with a rainbow of sprinkles.
“If she’s not dancing on the table in twenty minutes, you’ve failed the assignment.” Josie tugs at the sleeve of Celi’s band tee, sliding the wide neckline off one shoulder.
Our cousin has this habit of butchering her t-shirts, but somehow, they always suit her.
“You’ll be lucky to be standing in twenty minutes,” she shoots back at Josie. “You’re a lightweight.”
“I’m not a lightweight.”
“You’re a lightweight,” all my sisters say at the same time, then burst into laughter.
“Aw, a synchronized teasing session. How cute.” Josie snatches a second glass, this time teetering the tray.
Kiwi catches the wooden edge, pulling it into alignment as her glare burns through Josie.
“What? They started it.”
“A virgin birthday cake margarita for the mama-to-be.” Kiwi hands Hope the glass with a pineapple wedge on the side.
“Thanks, Kiwi.” There’s a luminous glow to Hope’s cheeks, like her pregnancy is lighting her from the inside out.
I’d never admit it to her Wilde husband, but it looks good on her.
Josie raises her glass. “We all know Jade is hating every minute of this, while secretly loving it.”
“I’m not secretly loving it.” But a smile lifts the corner of my mouth.
“She is. Just a little.” Josie pinches her fingers close together.
My sister Natalie wraps her arm around my shoulder and squeezes.
“For real though.” A ripple of intent washes over Josie’s face. “We’ve been lucky to have you as our oldest sister. You are the perfect combination of awesome and annoying.”
It’s a rare moment when our youngest sister is this serious and sincere. I don’t take it lightly.
“You’ve always been the sister who knew what I was thinking, even before I knew myself. Whether it was staying up late to help with school projects, or holding hands through heartbreak.”
Hannah tilts her head. “Do you know heartbreak, Josie?”
“Shut up. I was referring to your heartbreak.”
“I don’t have heartbreak.” Hannah’s defense rolls in strong.
Josie arches her brow at the evidence. “I guess if you’re lying, I can lie.”
Hope clears her throat, rubbing her protruding belly with one hand. “What she’s trying to say is you’ve always been our rock, the sister we can lean on.”
“But now, it’s your turn.” Natalie’s fingertips press into my arms with a silent reassurance. “Take these thirties to chase your dreams and do the things you’ve put off. Live for you.”
“You’ve more than earned it,” Hannah agrees. “And we’ve got your back. Always.”
If anyone could make me teary-eyed, it would be my sisters, but then Josie opens her mouth and ruins it all.
“Which means sleep with Hart Wilde.”
We all groan.
“She is a ‘wild’ one.” Josie tugs on the sash. “It’s time to take action.”
“I knew we shouldn’t have put her in charge of anything custom.” Hannah straightens the sash. “She has no limits.”
“You should have seen the tension between them tonight.” Josie whistles. “Even Faye and Wilma jumped on the Jart boat.”
Natalie shakes her head. “That’s a terrible couple’s name.”
“Harde?” Josie offers. “Since he’s always hard when she’s around.”
“Can we not make couple names for a couple that doesn’t exist?” I’m losing interest in this party at a rapid rate.
“Jade’s right. Despite the sash.” Hope leans forward. “Which I give you full permission to take off.”
It won’t matter. Hart doesn’t do bars. The man rarely leaves his parents’ ranch except to argue with me at a town meeting or growl in the corner of an event he’s been dragged to.
Hope holds her glass toward the center of our circle. “To getting older and not giving a damn about anyone but yourself.”
“Cheers to that.”
Everyone chimes in happily, and our glasses clink together before we take sips. The sweet and smooth creaminess coats my mouth, like frosting on a cake.
“They were rubbing arms and legs.” Josie’s grin stretches wide behind her margarita glass.
Kiwi tsks at my sister. “We don’t need another Fox falling for a Wilde.” Her high-heeled boots click on the floor as she storms off, muttering all the reasons why the resolve was wrong.
I agree.
Our family feud has been ongoing for so long that, before Hope and Levi got married last year, even the town was divided.
Kiwi was team Fox while the bar next to her, Bucky’s Bar, was team Wilde. And the businesses used to be separated by a brick wall. Now, there’s a giant hole opening from an escalated argument.
“The way they eye-fucked—”
“Alright.” Celi grasps my hand and drags me away from Josie. “This is Jade’s night, and there will be no mention of her nemesis.”
Celi has a knack for de-escalating a situation in record time, learned after years working behind a bar.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“I agree with her, but it is your night, and everything is about you and how wonderful you are.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “So take advantage of the attention. Your sisters rarely make anything about anyone but themselves.”
“We heard that,” Hope says behind us.
Celi laughs and spins away from me, her cowboy boots clapping the floor.
She points at Hope. “Point proven. It’s been ‘baby Fox-Wilde’ this and ‘baby Fox-Wilde’ that for months. Today is Jade this and Jade that.”
Hope presses her palm on the edge of a corner booth draped in blush pink fringe, twinkle lights, and a tower of shot glasses.
She blows out a breath. “I get it. No baby talk.”
She waves for Daisy to climb into the booth first, claiming the outside seat. I think I’ll follow suit. I step aside.
“Cowgirls and cocktails.” Josie slaps my ass before hopping to her feet on the leather seat and waving at Kiwi. “Another round of drinks for the birthday girl! And none of that polite pour. Give her the Texas-sized regret.”
She’s starting to make me regret agreeing to this.
“Get down.” Hannah swats her leg.
Josie spreads her arms wide. “Yeehaw! Thirty!”
She drops, sliding into the seat and meeting Daisy in the middle. The rest of them slide in before I take one end, and Hope takes the other.
Josie dishes out shots from a tower of cocktails in the center of the table. When she reaches me, I slide her a second glass while holding a second for myself.
Our eyes lock in a silent dare to do them both together.
“Tonight is bad decisions with glitter.”
We clink glasses and throw back the first shot in sync. It hits my tongue with a sharp, fiery bite. A quick blaze spreads down my throat like liquid fire.
I catch a flicker of hesitation in Josie’s eyes as she swallows hers. Then a flash of surprise.
“That claws.” Josie coughs into her elbow.
She’s known to be the life of the party, the one with a drink in hand, but really, she rides her own natural high, barely finishing the glasses she starts.
Now, she’s head-on with me, and I don’t give her time to hesitate.
The second glass presses my lips, and we do it simultaneously.
This one stings worse, hotter, but I swallow again, refusing to show how much it burns.
She doesn’t hide her wince, but she also refuses to back down.
For now.
Daisy slides a third shot in front of me. “Thirty is the sweet spot. Still old enough to know better, but young enough to still ignore it.” She raises her glass to me.
Out of all of us, Daisy’s the one who can outdrink me. She’s on the circuit. A big-time barrel racing champ with a taste for adrenaline and an even bigger rush for a wild after-party.
The third shot goes down rougher than the first two, scraping heat all the way to my belly.
We grin at each other.
Josie hiccups.
Lightweight.
“To cowgirl grit and glitter. Thirty, flirty, and”—Josie hiccups again—“what’s the third thing?”
I grin. “Exhausted. The third thing is always exhausted.”
“No.” Josie screeches, appalled. “You’re thirty, not eighty.”
“I heard that,” Kiwi shouts at us.
Laughter spills out as we lean in, murmuring about how she could’ve possibly heard.
“Mildly unhinged.” Hope takes off the pineapple slice and nibbles on it.
“Horny,” Josie hurls. “The answer is horny. Thirty, flirty, and horny.”
“Eighty-year-olds are horny!” Kiwi shouts back.
“Why? How?” I mouth, and we’re laughing again.
The table comes alive with energy, laughter, and chatter. Hope moves a cowgirl cutout aside for the platter of Pimento cheese dip with crackers and chips that Kiwi slides on the table.
After we’ve stuffed ourselves full, we push the empty plates aside, and Josie announces a surprise.
“Not from us.” Natalie points at our youngest sister. “Don’t drag us into whatever you’ve planned.”
“We said no strippers.” Hannah is full-on mom-facing her right now.
“It’s not strippers.” Josie sounds offended, but also like she might’ve hired a stripper.
I groan. “No. I don’t like surprises, and I guarantee I won’t like one Josie has planned.”
“You’re gonna love this one.” She hands me a wrapped present. “It’s a game.”
I arch an eyebrow. “A game?”
She nods, but her smirk says this isn’t just a game of pin the tail on the donkey.
“Unwrap it.”
“We also agreed you can’t hire a guy to play pin the tail on the dick.” Hope traces slow circles over the swell of her stomach. “I’m a married woman now.”
“Just for the record, I did vote for that game.” Daisy throws back a shot.
“You know what?” Josie glares at everyone. “Y’all made it almost impossible to create a fun game.”
By fun, she means inappropriate and raunchy.
“I figured if real humans weren’t involved, it would be doable.”
“Doable?” Celi quirks an eyebrow.
“Wrong word.” Josie slaps my hand. “Just open your gift.”
I unwrap a book: Mature & Responsible at 30.
“Is this a self-help book?”
“It’s beneficial. Open it.” Josie looks like a kid on Christmas morning.
It makes me nervous.
I sigh and open the book. Inside is hollowed out and holding a dildo. And not just any dildo, but one shaped like an actual penis with veins, head, and even testicles.
The note inside says: Page 30 holds your destiny.
I slowly raise my head. “Wow. This is something.”
“And now that she’s armed and educated”—Josie taps a beat on the table—“let the hunt for the hidden dicks begin! And I may or may not have hid some around the pool table on Bucky’s side near those hot bikers.”