CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It’s the next morning, but the sunny sky hasn’t offered clarity.
If anything, my mood is full of storm clouds.
The man to my left scooted his stool away the instant I barged into The Paddock.
I must reek of a frigid chill and frustration.
That’s probably why Byron left a note on the fridge, telling me to take the day off. He couldn’t even face me.
“The audacity of that man,” I grumble into my mimosa.
Paisley lifts her glass in solidarity. “Screw him.”
“Good for nothing but heartache,” Gemma adds.
This is my first attempt at leaning on others. I’ve heard it can be therapeutic. As it turns out, I got a two-for-one special. The Keaton sisters arrived as a dynamic duo now that Gemma moved back to town. They’re off to an impressive start, but we just sat down.
Paisley gives me a heavy dose of eye contact. “How did Byron fuck up this time?”
A long exhale delays the gratification. “He hugged me.”
“He… hugged you,” she repeats.
“After he shot me down.”
Her lips part. “He what?”
“Can you believe that? Could’ve had a sure thing.” I gesture at my goodies that are stuck on the shelf.
Paisley shakes her head as if to clear it. “Why did he hug you?”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“Was he trying to comfort you?”
“How should I know?”
“You spend a lot of time together.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s not like we really communicate openly. That’s a foreign concept for me.” One of many. But I’m not trying to tally my insecurities. “The point is he’s not willing to give me what I want.”
“Which is casual sex.”
“Don’t be so condescending. You make me sound like the wicked witch in this scenario.”
“If the ruby slipper fits…” she mutters under her breath.
“Hey!” My palm slaps the wood bar top. “I didn’t invite you to boozy brunch to criticize me. You need to blindly support me like a best friend. Aren’t you in my corner?”
Her eyes are wide and unblinking. “Um, yes?”
I huff at her blatant uncertainty. “He crossed a line. We don’t hug. It was too warm and fuzzy.”
“You’re just not comfortable with that level of intimacy,” Paisley counters.
“I don’t need that kind of intimacy.”
Which is the lie I’m telling myself and anyone who will listen. In truth, I’d never felt more cherished. The tears were unexpected. It freaked me out and I overreacted. But damn, Byron shouldn’t test me while I’m in such a vulnerable state.
His woodsy scent still burns in my lungs. I wonder if my perfume is clinging to him. My eyes squeeze shut. No, it doesn’t matter. I’m just the nanny. Ronnie is the only commitment I can manage and that’s already costing more than I can afford.
Paisley hasn’t moved a muscle during my internal crisis. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Pissed me off more than anything.” I roll my shoulders back. “Do you know what I need?”
She winces. “I’m honestly afraid to suggest anything.”
“Why?”
“You’re kinda scary,” she mumbles.
“Really? Awww, I’m honored.” And she hasn’t even seen my knife collection.
Paisley snorts. “Because that’s the correct response for a sane person.”
“Oh, hush. I never claimed to be mentally stable.”
“Is that on your resume?”
I lift my arms and spread them as if unrolling a banner. “I’ve got issues.”
Gemma scoffs. “Don’t we all?”
“Mine are toxic.”
The sisters exchanged a weighted look. Paisley clears her throat. “Have you ever talked to someone about that?”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I motion between them.
She laughs. “We aren’t professionals.”
“I don’t need a shrink to psychoanalyze me. The thought alone is fifty times worse than anything I’ve survived. Big shocker here: I’m fucked up. That’s not going to change. I’ve learned to deal with it just fine.” When they just stare at me, I roll my eyes. “Mostly.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Gemma croons.
“See? She gets it,” I chastise Paisley. “As I was saying, I need to get laid.”
Mimosa shoots from her mouth when she sputters. “Is that the best solution for your emotional state?”
I glare daggers at her, but she presses on.
“I’m just saying. If a hug set you off like this, something more… sensual could really trigger you.”
“It depends on the type of contact. A hug from Byron is too personal. Sex with a stranger is strictly for pleasure. I don’t do strings or attachments of any kind.”
She makes another face. “Never?”
“That’s it, you’re fired. Swap seats with your sister.” I make a weaving motion between the two blondes.
But Gemma is distracted. Her shrewd blue eyes sweep the interior of The Paddock like she’s a security guard.
I quirk an eyebrow at her oh-so-subtle tactics. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”
“Me?” A bright scarlet blooms across her exquisite bone structure. “Ah, nope? Not at all.”
Dry laughter flakes from me when she sucks down her drink to seal her lips from spilling the truth.
“Have fun with those evasive maneuvers.” I slip off the stool and stretch my back. “Welp, you know what they say.”
Paisley listens dutifully as my spine cracks in several places. “You’ll catch more bees with honey?”
I give her a blank look. “Uh, good guess. But if you want someone done right, you gotta do them yourselves.”
Her features screw into utter confusion. “That’s not how it goes.”
“Which is why you’re staying behind.” I tap her on the nose and whirl to survey the weekend crowd.
My hunt begins with a scenic route to the bathroom. Several men glance at me, but quickly avert their stares. I’d be at risk of developing a complex, but my reflection in the mirror clearly reveals I’m in fuckable form.
On my second lap around, I spot a guy who’s practically drooling at me. That’s more like it. I plaster on a coy grin and add more swivel to my strut. He fidgets as I approach, which is endearing. Making people nervous is a guilty pleasure.
I blink at him from hooded eyes, adding a smoky rasp to my voice. “You look lonely.”
He shifts his stance. “Is your name Frankie?”
The seductive pretense drains from my expression. “Have we met?”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” is his muttered reply.
He appears crestfallen, which doesn’t make a lick of sense. I’m practically throwing myself on his lap.
My finger twirls around a curled section of hair. “Is there a problem?”
The guy gives me a lingering once-over. “When you’re available, come find me.” Before I can argue, his towering height disappears in the throng.
A similar pattern forms from that point forward. Whenever I get near someone, they skitter off in a hurry. It’s as if there’s a warning label stuck to my ass. That biker gang might be more problematic than I pegged them for.
The fifth rejection raises a red flag I can’t deny. I tap the closest man on the shoulder. His blatant lust eye-fucks my curves, coasting along my snatched waist and boobs. But the hunger fizzles when his gaze reaches my face.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He stumbles backward.
“Why are you sorry?” I park my hands on my hips.
“You’re not mine to look at. I’m attached to my eyes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The guy takes another step away. “I’ve already done enough.”
Such as test the possessive streak of a certain grumpy cowboy who has no right to make such a claim.
Before he can flee, I snatch his shirt sleeve. “Did Byron Benson tell you to leave me alone?”
His gulp is audible. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”
I release him, getting the dirt I need. That traitor thinks he can put a chastity belt on me. If he believes that’s wise for our revenge plot, he’s got another thing coming.
My boots cut a direct path to where Paisley and Gemma are watching me strike out. “This place is a bust. Let’s go to the next town over.”
“Why?” But Paisley is already grabbing her stuff to dutifully follow my lead.
“I’m revved up and he’s pressing all the wrong buttons.”
Gemma tips her head at an angle that reminds me of Ronnie. “Huh?”
But now isn’t the time to get distracted.
“Change of scenery. Fresh meat. Escape the rumor mill.” And Byron’s jurisdiction.
I keep that last one to myself. Don’t need anyone else fleeing the scene. Not until the deed is done.
Soon enough, Byron will realize this bitch always gets her itch scratched.