18. Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Laiken
I nervously bite my lip as I check my outfit in the mirror.
It’s simple. Like me. Jeans, my favorite off-the-shoulder purple sweater I never really wear, and my go-to gold cowgirl boots that have seen better days.
I added some waves in my hair with a curling iron and even attempted lip liner as per Dakota’s suggestion.
I actually look like a woman. Not just a mom on the verge of losing her sanity.
“Are you sure you’re okay to watch him?” I ask Ari, who’s sprawled across Dakota’s bed.
“Totes.” Ari flicks her dark hair over her shoulder. “We got big plans.”
I snort a laugh, imagining where Dakota and Cooper stood just a few months ago. Unmarried. No dependents. Just two best friends harboring feelings for each other for years. Now they’re hitched and raising Dakota’s teenage sister she didn’t even know existed until last fall.
It’s wild. But she’s the best and Trace has become highly fond of the emo adolescent.
“Big plans?” I ask as Dakota curses from her bathroom.
She and Ivy insisted we get ready together like it’s junior prom. Which is fine. I’m currently kicked out of my own house anyway.
“Yep. Texas Hold ’Em, and then Ryder is taking us night fishing at the tank.” She glances at her black-painted nails. “I mean, Ryder doesn’t know that yet, but we’ve kind of bonded lately.”
A laugh bubbles from my chest. “Bonded? With Ryder Mayson?”
“Weird, right? We oddly vibe.” She shrugs.
Who knew it took a thirteen-year-old girl with zero filter to remove the stick from Ryder’s jean-clad behind.
“Okay, I’m ready!” Ivy barges in, hair in a mountain of blonde curls.
“Me too.” Dakota steps from the bathroom, clasping on her gold hoops.
“I guess I am too.” I hold out my hands. “This okay?”
“Perfect.” Ivy beams.
“Hottie.” Dakota scoots next to me and whispers low in my ear, “Maybe you’ll get to wrap those gold boots around a bull rider tonight.” She winks. “Think you can hold on for eight seconds?”
Blushing, I reach for my purse. “I’m not riding anything.”
Except the denial train.
“Are you having a good time?” Micky leans in, his breath fanning along my neck, which sparks another round of irritation.
It’s not him, it’s me. I thought it would be a great idea to scroll social media while we waited for the guys.
Big mistake. The first post I saw was a media outlet with an update on the world champion from none other than Tori Jackson, gushing at how Parker’s recovery is going well and he’s getting stronger every day.
I easily morphed into the darkest shade of green while reading her words.
So he’s here, dropping hints like he still actually cares, while he still reports everything to her.
Consider my night out ruined.
Which is why I don’t even flinch when Micky Mack spots me across the bar, slides onto the stool next to me, and decides to stick to me like a used elementary glue stick.
“Yep.” I force a smile, leaning away as Ivy waves from across the room, my brother’s arm slung over her shoulder.
Parker is nowhere to be found at the moment, so I wave back, glancing at Micky, who starts up another conversation about the logistics of PVC piping with Arnold, the hardware store owner.
“I’ll be back,” I lie before sliding off my stool and blending in with the crowd.
When I make it to my brother and Ivy, she waggles her brows. “How’s that going?”
My brother frowns. “How’s what going?” He surveys the room, a scowl in place.
“Micky Mack,” Ivy offers. “You two looked cozy.”
“The plumber boy?” Maddox asks.
“He’s twenty-seven, Maddox.” I roll my eyes. “He’s a grown man.”
Who apparently only cares about everyone else’s plumbing but his own.
“He’s…” Maddox trails off.
“What?” I cross my arms.
He shrugs. “Not good enough.”
“And who is?” I ask, tilting my head.
I’m annoyed. Again.
“No one.”
“Agreed.” The word is rumbled from behind me.
I tense, the hairs on my neck rising at that familiar rasp.
I hate that it still affects me. Still makes me remember.
I turn to glare at Parker, who casually leans against a wooden beam next to a high-top table.
His eyes never leave my face, his gaze forcing my cheeks to flame.
Thankfully, Dakota picks the perfect time to approach, a tray of green Jell-O shots in hand.
“Who’s doing shots?!” She grins.
I don’t do shots. I don’t do nights out. I don’t do any of this. But tonight…
Parker waits for my response, his eyes still assessing, seeing if I’ll decline as I usually would. Play it safe. My fingers pluck a plastic container from the tray before I down the contents, never losing eye contact.
Dakota whoops before her laughter follows.
“That a girl, Red.” She tosses me a wink. “Have another.”
I guess I am doing shots tonight.