Chapter 2
Ginny Stone was all for people taking charge and going after what they needed. Especially her best friend, Dare, who more than deserved to be a little wild and outrageous if it soothed the demons that rode her every February tenth.
Okay, Ginny also had demons on this anniversary day, but she’d had her brothers to turn to. Dare had lost everyone.
But the night was not going as planned.
They hadn’t set out to do anything illegal, and hoped to stay on the correct side of immoral, but now the aforementioned wild and outrageous from Dare was tilting hard toward trouble.
Which was to say Dare wasn’t up on the bar dancing. Yet.
It had started simply. They were both old enough to be in the pub, even though the owner and bartender, Rex Matter, had given them both the evil eye for a few minutes.
Did he think they were simply going to dance and not drink? What did it matter? The more ladies out on the floor, the greater the chances some of the cowboys would stick around in the hopes of a dance, drinking as they waited.
Ginny slid up to the bar, hauled there by Dare, and once again wondered if Rex had been on the receiving end of a series of lectures to watch out for my sisters or else from the Stone patriarchy.
“Evening, Rex,” Ginny said with a bright smile.
Rex didn’t pause in drying the glass in his hands but dipped his chin politely. “Ladies. Your brothers lurking nearby?”
Ginny forced the smile to stick. “Just us. We’d like to start a tab.”
He eyed them before bestowing another nod. “What’ll it be tonight? Iced tea? Pop?”
“Whiskey.” The word shot out of Dare like a warning shot across a ship’s bow. Quick, with attitude.
Ginny didn’t blame her friend. The bartender had seemed one step away from suggesting Shirley Temples.
Rex raised a brow, meeting Ginny’s gaze. “You?”
“The same.” Although whiskey wasn’t her favourite, she’d do one shot then redirect the party in a safer direction. For the sake of her pocketbook if nothing else.
Dare waited until they both held tumblers of the amber liquid before raising hers in the air toward Ginny. “Tonight we toast our families. Starting with your mom.”
Oh God. Ginny’s throat tightened.
Her friend’s gaze locked on hers. “She always told us to do the next thing. I remembered that so often in the days after the accident when I wasn’t sure how to get out of bed. I still wake up thinking it at times.”
Memories threatened to take Ginny out at the knees. Deb Stone offering that all-knowing smile to the girls as they tried to jump ahead faster than they should. “One step at a time,” Ginny gave back to Dare.
They clinked glasses, then Dare upended hers. The liquid seemed to vanish from sight, and suddenly the tumbler was on the counter and Dare was looking at her expectantly.
Ginny lifted the glass and sipped.
Fire rolled over her tongue and down her throat, but the burn was good and eased the hurt of memory. Still, she took her time, making a face at Dare when her friend crossed her arms over her chest.
“You plan on being like this all night?” Dare demanded.
“You plan on being like this all night?” Ginny offered back with a wink as she took another sip.
Dare’s eye roll was epic, but she tilted her head toward the side of the room where a high-top had just opened up. “Get us two more. I’ll nab the table.”
Which gave Ginny the opportunity to put her remaining finger of whiskey down on the nearest table before heading back to the bar.
“Another round, please, Rex.” Ginny debated. “Can you put ice in them this time?”
He nodded then moved without further comment, the lineup of people waiting for their drinks growing busy enough to make him not interrogate her.
Ginny accepted the drinks he pushed across the bar then glanced toward the high-top.
Dare offered the tall cowboy leaning against the support post beside her a polite smile—one that didn’t even try to touch her eyes. Her ass stayed firmly planted on her stool, not budging an inch.
Ginny took advantage of the distraction, quickly tipping half of each drink into an abandoned glass on a side table.
Here’s hoping Dare wouldn’t notice the huge drop in alcohol this go-round.
Ginny marched over to her friend, depositing the glasses on the tabletop. “Noisy tonight.”
“Great music, though.” The cowboy’s gaze drifted from Dare to Ginny, his expression brightening with a little too much confidence. “Hey, sweet curves,” he said, smiling. “Want to dance?”
Ginny didn’t bother smiling. She waved a hand between them, gesturing to her admittedly ample chest, then up to her face. “My eyes are up here, hoss.”
Dare snorted, clearly used to Ginny taking the lead when things got awkward. “Mattias here says he’s an excellent dancer,” she said, tone dry as dust.
Dancing was a viable out from the drinking, but not with this fine example of manhood. Ginny had a strict one strike, and you’re out policy. “Fantastic,” Ginny said. “But Dare and I have plans tonight that don’t involve entertaining cowboys.”
“Just you two, eh?” His smirk widened. “I’d love to watch.”
The braying laugh that escaped Ginny was far from attractive, but the suddenness of it made him lean back far enough that when she picked up her stool and swung it to a new position closer to Dare, the legs only grazed Mattias’s shins.
He cursed and straightened, the sleaze vanishing as his expression turned ugly. “Goddamn cock teases.”
The small group of men at the table to their right froze instantly, tension radiating from them like a beacon. Two of them slid off their stools and rose to form a barrier between the unwanted cowboy and Dare and Ginny.
“You want to move along,” one of the deep-voiced men suggested.
Mattias sized up the situation then smartly beat a hasty retreat.
The table was full of Silver Stone ranch hands. Paul, one of the older men who’d been around for long enough to work for their fathers, turned to Ginny.
“Pleasant sort,” he offered mildly.
She snorted. “Thanks for the intercept. Sorry to interrupt your night.”
“No problem.” He considered for a moment. “You gals want company?”
“Love some,” Dare offered instantly. “Only Ginny and I have a toast to make every now and then. If that’s okay with you.”
“You call ‘em,” Paul returned. He tilted his head toward his table. “Grab the open chairs. We’ll find more if we need them. Most of the guys are up and down dancing anyway.”
Dare flashed him a thumbs up then picked up her new glass and eyed it suspiciously before giving Ginny the stink eye. “Whiskey neat, you jerk.”
“Whatever.” Ginny took control and raised her glass. “To your mom. Who made the inside of your cabin feel like it was a palace, a cozy retreat, and always, always a home.”
Tears shone in Dare’s eyes as they clinked glasses. “To Mom.”
The ice had partially melted, making it easier to drink the shot in one go. They both put down their empties, then Ginny was enveloped in a tight, needy hug.
She squeezed her friend back just as intensely.
“I miss her.” Dare’s words came out shaky.
“I know,” Ginny offered.
When they pulled apart, Ginny was hopeful the evening was back on track. Sad, but a way to deal with enough emotional baggage to create their own personal Mount Everest.
Sitting with the Silver Stone crew meant they were safe, and Ginny relaxed a touch. The table was covered with a layer of empty beer bottles and glasses, making it easier for her to discard most of the new drinks after a single sip without Dare noticing.
And there were new drinks. The next two times, Dare asked a different ranch hand to grab them their drinks. The tab was still under Dare’s name, but it meant whiskeys arrived every ten minutes or so.
“Wait,” Ginny interrupted after the fourth shot, desperate to regain control. “We need something special this time.”
Dare raised a brow.
It wasn’t only an attempt to slow her friend down. Inspiration hit, and with it, tears nearly burst free. “We need a drink in honour of Shayla.”
Dare’s little sister who had also lost her life in the accident. So young, so much future in front of her, gone—
Across from Ginny, Dare’s lips quivered. Then she nodded, hard. “I’m getting these for us.”
She rose from the table and headed for the bar like a bull on a mission. A slightly tipsy bull, considering the crooked path she wove.
“Ginny.” Paul leaned into her right shoulder. “You doing okay?”
“Mostly. It’s a tough day,” Ginny admitted.
He nodded his understanding. “Your daddy was a good man. I’m sorry he’s gone.” He cleared his throat. “I’m heading out in about half an hour because I have a shift at four a.m. Some of the others will stay for a bit, but are you two going to be all right?”
“Absolutely,” Ginny insisted. “You’re not expected to babysit us. Although I do appreciate the save earlier.”
“You would have hit him with your purse if he’d taken half a step forward,” Paul drawled. “Yeah?”
She patted her bag, enjoying the reassuring heavy weight of it. “I have a brick in here.”
He laughed before eyeing her closer. “You’re not drinking. Not really, are you?”
She shook her head. “I’m clear headed and in control. I have family on speed dial. So you go ahead and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He tipped his hat then moved back to the lively discussion on the far side of the table.
Dare reappeared, tall drinks in her hands and a grin on her slightly inebriated face. “For Shayla. She would have adored these.”
The drink presented to Ginny was a Shirley Temple. “I bet Rex was over the moon.”
Dare snorted as she sat. “He liked the drink order, not the special order.”
She pointed, so Ginny took a closer look.
The drink was tall and very pink. The skewer across the top held three maraschino cherries, glowing in that classic, over-the-top, unearthly red. Like ticking sugar bombs waiting to explode.
Ginny reached for her glass and hoped her liver was up to the food colouring overload.