Ray
Jack’s was a hustle and bustle of activity as we pulled open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.
Every corner of the run-down bar was filled with cowboys and cowgirls celebrating their last weekend of freedom before they needed to buckle down on training for the December National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas.
I didn’t wait for Wade to follow me, my footsteps echoing across the sticky floors. I walked with confident strides, the polished wood of the bar cool beneath my hands as I leaned over to catch Hayes, the longtime bartender’s, attention.
I felt the stares of drunken cowboys on my skin, their shameless perusal of my body a welcome distraction from the one person’s stare I wanted and didn’t have.
Wade had acted like I didn’t exist from the moment we stepped out of the truck. If I was donning a mask of enjoyment, he was donning a mask of indifference.
I leaned over the bar, holding down the back of my dress, and grinned at the rugged bartender pouring shots.
“No funny business tonight, Ray,” he grumbled in my direction, pouring what looked like bourbon into a rocks glass and adding two small ice cubes.
He slid the glass across the bar to the patron, a tall man with a fitted grey tee, black cowboy hat, and a thick but neatly trimmed chestnut-brown beard.
I raked my eyes over the tattoos that trailed across his arms, swirling over every inch of visible skin.
The man nodded his thanks and headed over to a four-top table that was occupied by a few other men of his same stature.
He looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I knew him from. I knew he must have been part of the rodeo circuit because Wade walked right up and slapped him on the shoulder, garnering a firm handshake and a nod.
I turned back to Hayes, grinning as he waited for me to order.
“Oh, Hayes-y baby. I never cause funny business,” I drawled sweetly, slipping into a thick Southern accent. “I’m just a lowly Southern belle looking for a strong cowboy to sweep me off my feet.”
Hayes rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle of Jose Cuervo, my drink of choice. He poured two shots and slid one my way, picking the other up in a simple toast.
I tipped my head back and brought the cool edge of the shot glass to my lips, drinking it down as if it were nothing more than a glass of water.
Tequila and I had a volatile relationship, but the liquid courage coursed through my system, creating a warmth across my body that was welcome and relaxing.
I set the shot glass back on the bar top, signaling Hayes to pour me another. He grumbled something that sounded oddly like “fucking tequila” under his breath, but reluctantly filled the small glass to the brim.
I brazenly reached across the bar to grab a lime and a saltshaker, much to Hayes’s dismay. Righting myself back on the sticky floor of the bar, I winked in his direction and blew him an exaggerated kiss.
I laughed when he placed his fists on his hips and tilted his head back in exasperation as he did his best to act affronted.
Hayes had been the sole bartender at Jack’s for as long as I could remember. He was in his early fifties and had seen his fair share of Cortez and Daniels shenanigans over the years.
There may have been a few instances where Hayes threatened to call my father after one too many shots. Subsequently, there may also have been a night that included a weaponized pool stick, Coyote Ugly-style tabletop dancing, and bucket loads of puke all over the floor.
I twirled around and leaned against the bar top, scanning the room for our group of friends.
The bar was packed, but I couldn’t mistake Stella’s bright blonde hair and frantically waving arm flapping animatedly from across the room. My smile spread wide as I made my way over to where they had commandeered a large table for our ever-growing group.
Stella was expertly perched on Max’s lap, even though a perfectly good chair sat directly beside him. I couldn’t blame her, though; if my husband looked like he did, I’d want to touch him any chance I could get, too.
Although the conversation was loud around them, I watched as Max stared at his wife with rapt attention.
It was as if the words coming out of her mouth were something profound, instead of her chatter about the latest runway looks she was scouring for the boutique.
He looked at her with a reverence that can only be described as sheer awe and love.
A pang of jealousy coursed through my chest as I watched them, silently wishing I had what they did.
I wanted someone to look at me like their world would end if I were gone. I wanted to be the center of someone’s attention and the star of every thought in their head.
Truthfully, all I wanted was to be wanted.
Wade unceremoniously plopped down next to me; his cologne, a mix of something earthy and warm, mingled with the scent of bourbon, hung heavy in the air. I resisted leaning in to wrap myself in the intoxicating scent that was pure Wade Daniels.
His wide hand gripped a rocks glass as he lifted his drink to his plush lips. I watched from the corner of my eye as he tipped it back and took a small sip of the amber liquid, reveling in the way his throat constricted as he swallowed.
A drop remained suspended on his bottom lip, and I watched as he expertly swiped out his tongue and whisked it away.
My eyes trailed from his lips up the strong bridge of his nose, slightly crooked from too many breaks falling off the back of a horse, to the chocolate-brown eyes that stared directly into mine.
Shit.
I shot up from my seat, wiped my sweaty palms down my dress, and grabbed hold of Stella’s hand, pulling her from Max’s lap.
“Shots?” I asked, my voice an octave higher than normal. I cleared my throat and schooled my features back into neutrality as I nearly dragged Stella back to the bar.
No matter that I’d only been there a few minutes prior, I needed more alcohol to deal with the ever-growing ache thrumming through my core at the sight of the sexy cowboy I wanted to mount like a saddled bronc.
“You okay, girl? You seem a little…on edge,” Stella asked as we sidled up to the bar, and I waved in Hayes’s direction again.
He cut his eyes at me in exasperation but didn’t hesitate to pour two more shots and slide them my way.
“Yep! I’m fine, all good, nothing going on here,” I replied, the words coming far too quickly to be anything but okay as I shot back the tequila with practiced ease.
I caught the quirk of Stella’s eyebrow as she leaned her hip against the bar and kicked back her own shot.
“Cool… so, we’re going to try that again, and this time, try to pretend just a little harder.”
Hanging my head forward, I stretched myself exasperatedly over the bar, again much to Hayes’s dismay.
The tequila was starting to take effect, leaving my inhibitions and emotions on the fraying end of a very long rope. I dropped my head onto my arms and felt Stella’s warm hand as it coasted gently over my back.
It felt nice to be “mothered” in a sense and to have someone to vent to. Stella and I had fallen into an easy friendship when she arrived in Firefly Cove, but opening up about my feelings would always be somewhat foreign to me.
“Ray, I’m serious.” I turned my head, meeting her emerald gaze. Her face was a canvas of worry and concern.
I didn’t want to worry her; I just didn’t know how to explain so many years of unrequited longing to someone who hadn’t experienced it.
“I’m fine. Just dealing with some…” I struggled to find the right word for what I was experiencing.
“Emotions?” she finished for me, her lips curling into a teasing grin as she playfully bumped my shoulder.
“Yeah, those things,” I chuckled, standing upright and feeling the swirly warmth that came along with three shots of tequila in the span of about twenty minutes.
“Does it have something to do with the broody cowboy staring daggers in your direction, acting like everyone in this bar needs to scrub their eyes after they just got a good look under your dress?”
I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I realized quickly that I’d been doubled over the bar, and my dress was barely cresting the bottom of my ass. I turned around, putting my back to the bar as I surveyed the crowd.
A couple of younger guys stared unabashedly over in my direction, one even giving me an exaggerated wink. I rolled my eyes and sighed.
The last thing I needed was some young saddle bronc rider thinking I was a buckle bunny looking for a good time. My glare was enough to send him the message that I was not interested.
“You wanna talk about it?” Stella asked softly, sliding a fresh shot of tequila my way. This girl knew the key to my heart and how to loosen my lips.
“I’m just…” I started, attempting to find the right words for the emotions that were swirling through my head. I was a jumbled mix of angry, frustrated, and incomprehensibly turned on.
“Frustrated,” I settled on, not bothering to elaborate on which type. I twirled the shot of tequila around, running my finger across the rim.
“I know I haven’t been here as long as some of the other guys who saw you and Wade grow up together, but I’m sure even a blind man could see how you guys look at each other.” She chuckled.
“That’s the thing. We’ve grown up together. He’s my best friend. How do I throw away seventeen years of friendship for a relationship that will undoubtedly fail?” The words came out in a jumbled mess, flowing like a rushing stream from my lips.
Trying to suck some of the words back in, I took my shot and placed it face down on the bar, signaling to Hayes that I was done drinking. Tequila was obviously the enemy tonight, as it left me feeling far from happy or energized.
I felt Stella’s hand reach down beside me and her slender fingers interlace with mine. The sign of solidarity was warm and much needed as I grappled with the torrent of emotions flooding through me.
“I don’t think you’d be throwing anything away,” she said softly, neither of us looking anywhere but out into the crowd.
Anyone watching would just see two drunk girls standing next to a bar holding hands. They wouldn’t see or feel the raw emotion bleeding from my pores as I struggled to maintain my composure under the weight of “what ifs.”
“You and Wade have known each other since you were teens. You’ve seen each other through every stage of each other’s lives as you’ve grown, and neither of you has managed to break the bond you share.
If it were going to happen, don’t you think it would have already happened?
There’s something raw and special there, Ray. How do you know it’s destined to fail?”
Like a crashing wave of interrogation, her words drowned me as I struggled to find a reply.
How did I know we would fail? Was I just expecting the worst to happen, or was there tried-and-true evidence that Wade and I would never work out as a couple?
“Your silence speaks volumes, Ray. Just remember that nothing worth having comes easy.”
She was right. I didn’t know that Wade and I wouldn’t work out, and I could either sit back and let myself wonder, or I could do something about it and see where it goes.
With that emotional bomb detonated, Stella and I made our way back to the table and sat down. She plopped herself back down on Max’s lap like she owned it, although she did, and snagged his Stetson off his head, depositing it on her own.
I swore I heard a light growl as he leaned forward, nuzzling the space where her shoulder met her neck, and the peal of laughter that Stella let out hit me right in the chest.
I wanted that.