Chapter 20 Penny
20
PENNY
PRESENT DAY
Aspen: The Tequila Cowboy tonight?
Penny: You think I’d say no?
Penny: Do you even know who I am?
Theo: I’m gonna skip out. Rhodes and I are hooked on this show and have to watch to see how it ends
Ellie: I’m in! I’ll come by after closing the stand!
Ibolted straight home after work, practically peeling off my modest dress and diving into my closet. Ellie and Aspen were already waiting at the bar for our long-overdue girls’ night out, even though we were missing Theo.
Cowboy boots on? Check.
Low-cut top? Hell yes.
Mini skirt? Obviously.
Clutching my cow-print purse like a statement, I strutted down Main Street from my apartment, one foot in front of the other, toward The Tequila Cowboy. The night air kissed my skin, and the hum of small-town Friday night wrapped around me like a promise.
A low, nagging guilt tugged at the edges of my excitement. None of them knew about Mac. Not the sweet beginnings, not the explosive fallout. Not the long silences or the way he was now, trying to claw his way out of the doghouse. And with everything that happened the last week, I didn’t know how well I’d be able to hold it together.
It wasn’t like me to not tell my friends what was going on in the world of Penny. I was always the oversharer—the first to admit my intrusive thoughts, the one who never hesitated to say the quiet parts out loud. But this? What happened with Mac? It was still too raw. The pain too real. The words too tangled to unravel just yet.
Maybe once the dust settled, I’d open up. Maybe when or if things got repaired, I’d explain it all to them. But not tonight.
Tonight, I’d dance until my feet ached and my head spun. I’d laugh too loud, toss my hair just right, and pretend like nothing in the world was weighing on me.
Music would be my armor.
I smiled, lips curling at the edges as the stars shimmered above me.
I’d give Mac a run for his money. Let him watch from the bar while I flirted just enough to keep him guessing. Just enough to remind him what he stood to lose.
And no one would question a thing—because the best way to keep a secret… is to put on a show.
Deep down, I knew it wasn’t a complete show. There was a genuine need for this man that still simmered underneath. The more he came around, the more I’d been easing up.
The bass could be heard from the sidewalk outside. I gripped the cool metal handle, and I flung the bar door open. Instantly, I was swallowed by a wave of chatter, the low hum of conversation mixing with moody neon lights that painted everything in hues of red and violet.
I scanned the room quickly, my eyes landing on two familiar heads of blond hair, backs turned to me. A smile tugged at my lips.
Skipping over, I landed behind them, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders and leaning in between.
“Can I buy you two pretty ladies a drink?” I purred in my best imitation of a guy trying way too hard.
Their heads snapped toward me, recognition lighting their faces just before the laughter came. Ellie grinned and pulled her purse off the stool she’d been saving.
“I’d never say no to that,” she said with a wink.
“Thank God!” Aspen added. “We’ve been dying for a drink. We waited for you, but now I’m thirsty.”
“I know, I know,” I said, throwing my hands up dramatically. “I’m here now! What’s it gonna be?”
“Tequila!” they chorused like it was rehearsed.
I raised a hand in the air, lifting slightly on my stool as I tried to catch Jolie’s attention behind the bar.
She was working with him tonight.
Mac was on the other side, towel slung casually from the back pocket of his jeans, leaning on his forearms as he talked to a couple of locals. His body language screamed effortless ease.
My gaze trailed over him, soaking in the way his arms flexed with just the slightest movement, how the soft mess of his hair curled at the nape of his neck.
Tendrils of smoke curled around him—of course, he had a cigarette clenched between his lips.
My chest tightened, a heat creeping up my neck. Just looking at him was like flipping a switch I swore I’d turned off.
Jolie finally looked up and spotted me, her full lips curling into a soft smile, and she nodded, which made her curls bounce. She was effortlessly stunning—rich brown skin, striking green eyes, curves that made every girl just a little jealous. With three bottles in one hand, she tapped Mac on the shoulder to get his attention.
He turned toward her, cigarette still hanging by a thread from his lips. Jolie pointed our way, and then his eyes landed on me.
His smirk was subtle—just a twitch on one side of his mouth—but it shot straight to my core. He reached up, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, and started walking toward us, hips moving with that easy, unbothered saunter that was my personal brand of kryptonite.
I bit my bottom lip before I could stop myself.
There was a full-on war going on inside me—heart screaming caution, body ready to toss every damn rule out the window. If he asked me to go upstairs right now, I couldn’t promise I’d say no.
Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d even try to deny it.
“What can I get ya?”
Mac’s voice rumbled low as he leaned forward, both hands braced on the edge of the bar. His gaze moved from Aspen, to Ellie, and finally—hot and heavy—landed on me.
“Three shots of tequila and three sunrises,” I said, breaking the stare as I rummaged through my purse, trying to fish out my wallet.
Mac knocked twice on the wood in acknowledgment, then straightened to his full height.
With the easy grace that always got to me, he grabbed three shot glasses and three short tumblers. The bottle gleamed under the bar lights as he tipped it, the pour spout gliding like second nature. His forearms flexed with every movement, tattoos shifting with muscle as he moved glass to glass, pouring with perfect precision—no measuring, no hesitation. Just muscle memory and charm.
He returned with the drinks a moment later, setting them down in front of us like an offering. I found my card, sliding it toward him, but he only shook his head and flashed that cocky grin.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, plucking the cigarette from his lips to ash it. “I got it covered.”
Then the bastard winked.
“You can’t,” Aspen cut in, tilting her head with a laugh. “Lizzie’s gonna have your head on a stick, parading it up and down Main Street.”
Mac sighed dramatically, folding his tattooed arms across his chest, the sleeves of his black T-shirt bunching around his biceps. “Come on. You know me by now.”
Aspen threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying it’s a bold move.”
“Is giving away drinks something you do often?” Ellie asked, sipping slowly from her glass, all cool curiosity while enjoying that free drink.
He shrugged, nonchalant. “Lately, yeah.”
It was typical Mac—pushing buttons just to see if they’d push back. Especially when it came to his sister. Since Lizzie’s return to Faircloud, it had been one battle after another. I hadn’t known Mac before she came back, but I’d heard enough to understand they didn’t exactly play nice.
He’d confided in me that it still stung, the way their dad left the bar to Lizzie after he passed. All the years Mac had invested into the place—his time, sweat, and frustration—felt like they hadn’t meant a damn thing. I’d gently encouraged him to talk to her, to say what he was really feeling, but he always brushed it off with a wave of his hand and that same old line: “It’ll work itself out.”
Sounded familiar…
He used to talk about his dad late at night, in between sips of his whiskey and my wine. The stories weren’t good ones. And while I didn’t know the man well, the few times I had seen him, he wasn’t hard to remember. Scruffy beard, long hair in a thick braid, and never once sober.
I didn’t have much ground to stand on when it came to family advice. I’d let go of that fantasy a long time ago. These days, I built my own kind of family. People I chose. People who stayed.
Still, sometimes, I missed my mom. Watching Aspen, Theo, even Ellie with their moms—it hit me in quiet moments, a soft ache I rarely let linger. My own mother hadn’t been around in over a year. Usually, she’d breeze through town in the summer just long enough to say she still hadn’t given up on me completely.
Mac and I had that in common, too—our family ties were dressed in different clothes, but the fabric felt the same.
“Pen?”
A hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked up at Aspen, who was now standing beside me.
“I said we’re going to the dance floor,” she said with a teasing smile. “You coming?”
I glanced around. Mac was already back at the far end of the bar, pouring drinks and talking to someone I didn’t recognize.
“Ugh, yes,” I said, grabbing my shot glass. Without a second thought, I tipped it back, the tequila burning smooth and sharp down my throat.
We moved to the dance floor, music vibrating through the floorboards, laughter curling around us like smoke. But I couldn’t help it—I glanced over my shoulder.
And there he was.
Mac was pouring a drink, but his eyes? They were on me.
I smiled, flipping my hair over my shoulder with purpose, and threw him a wink before turning away again.
Every step I took after was deliberate. My hips swayed just a little more than usual, teasing and hypnotic—because I knew he was watching.
And I wanted him to feel it. Every. Damn. Step.
This was my payback.
I could’ve thrown a drink in Mac Ridley’s face, God knows I’d fantasized about it more than once. Or spat the sharp words I’d whispered to myself during sleepless nights, curled up and aching from the weight of wanting someone who had given up so quickly.
But no.
That wasn’t how you got to Mac.
Not really.
If I wanted to rattle him, truly rattle him, I had to hit where it hurt.
And Mac? He was a jealous creature.
And me? That was my weakness. My favorite non-sexual kink was a man who couldn’t hide it when he wanted me.
So tonight, I was going to make damn sure he remembered exactly what he pushed away.
The bar was alive with music, bodies moving under low lights, the scent of liquor and sweat and temptation thick in the air. Tequila burned in my chest and the beat in my bones as I moved to the edge of the dance floor.
I didn’t even have to look to know where he was. I felt him watching me from behind the bar like he always did. That unreadable expression, that tight jaw, those sharp, whiskey-colored eyes that followed my every move.
Good.
Let him watch.
My hips found the rhythm easily, swaying to the slow, sultry beat. I let my body move with the music, fluid and effortless.
I turned away from him, keeping my back to the bar, letting him see the curve of my spine, the way my skirt hugged me tight. I slid my fingers into my hair, tousling it as I tilted my head back and pretended to laugh at something no one said, just for show.
Just for him.
Someone behind me brushed a little too close, but I didn’t step away. I let it happen. Let the illusion bloom. I arched slightly, shifting my weight like I might press into someone. Like I was open to the idea. Like I wasn’t thinking of him.
But I was.
Every single move I made was for him.
I knew what he looked like when he was about to break—when his knuckles went white on the edge of the bar, when his eyes narrowed and that little muscle in his jaw ticked because someone else had the nerve to look at me the way he did.
So I kept dancing. Just long enough to make him burn. Just long enough to stir that possessive part of him I knew too well.
And when I finally looked over my shoulder, when our eyes locked through the low light and thick air, I smiled.
Slow. Knowing. Dangerous.
Checkmate.