16. Dallas
DALLAS
“Ihave to say, I’m not the biggest fan of him asking you out while you were at work. You’re kind of trapped there. Makes it seem like you have to say yes if you want a good tip,” Rosie says, dusting blush over her cheeks.
Monroe nods in agreement. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. How old is he?”
She’s swirling a glass of prosecco around with her manicured hand. Opening night for her concert is tomorrow, so tonight, we’re all going out to the bars in Nashville. Monroe is so stunning; sometimes, it’s hard to look at her without staring. She has short, white blond hair and electric blue eyes.
“He’s, like, in his early forties. He has some gray hair, which is kind of hot.” I’m touching up my natural curls with a tiny curling wand.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to go on a few dates with him. Has he been texting you?”
My phone buzzes right then, Scott’s name lighting up the screen. Or rather, the nickname I gave him.
Oldie Oil Man
What concert are you going to?
“Yes. I told him I’m in Nashville for the weekend because he wanted to go on a date tonight.” I tap out a response, letting him know it’s for Monroe Blue’s concert.
“How does he feel about you having kids? Does he have any?” Dolly asks as she puts her earrings in.
I set the phone down and grab my glass of prosecco. “I haven’t exactly told him about the boys yet.”
She raises a brow. “Oh?”
I shrug. “I just don’t think it’s his business until I’ve decided if I even like him.”
Rosie laughs. “I love you. And you’re damn right.”
“Ladies, our ride is here.” Holden knocks on the doorframe.
“Okay, we’re ready!” Rosie says, hopping up off the sofa.
The house we’re staying in is more like a mini mansion in the heart of Nashville.
Monroe’s team had everything set up for us—stocked the kitchen with food and a new makeup line that’s sponsoring the entire weekend.
Everything is sleek and fancy, a far cry from the drugstore makeup I’ve been using since the apartment fire.
She also generously opened up her closet to us and insisted we raid it since she’d never get the chance to wear it all.
Rosie dived in headfirst, choosing an outfit for me.
I love the denim miniskirt and red fringe vest. It fits me perfectly, showing off a sliver of my stomach and making my boobs look perkier than they have in years.
She paired it with expensive, tall crimson boots with a thick heel.
I dab my lips with matching lipstick.
“Damn, girl, people aren’t going to believe you’re a twin mom when you do tell them!” Monroe says, looping her elbow through mine.
Dolly grabs Sam’s hand, and Rosie kisses Holden.
Monroe and I walk out the front door after Cash and Duke, who are dressed in their nice Wranglers, snakeskin boots, and brown Stetsons. I shiver when the cold wind hits my skin.
Duke opens the door of the black limousine before turning toward us. The smile melts off his face when he sees me. His eyes rake over my body, heating me from the inside out. His hand reaches up to grab the back of his neck, and he whistles under his breath before facing away from me.
I keep walking, sliding into the limo behind Rosie and Monroe.
They saved me a spot between them on the luxurious leather seats.
I have to keep my thighs pressed together so I don’t flash anyone.
After Duke gets in, champagne glasses are passed around.
The driver takes off, almost immediately getting stuck in traffic.
I down half the champagne, my skin feeling raw and sensitive under Duke’s steady gaze. We’re the automatic fourth couple, even though we haven’t exchanged words since the night he told Scott he and I were “just friends.”
And I’m not mad about it. Why would I be? If he wants to be friends, that’s fine by me.
I’m in my healing era. I’m not wasting time hooking up with fuckboys.
I set my jaw, looking out the window at the people on the street as we get closer to downtown. Cowboy hats, gaudy turquoise jewelry, and fringe are everywhere.
When we pull up to the first bar, the driver idles near the curb. Duke opens the door, and we all file out. Cash keeps Monroe close to him, tugging her under his arm when the first person recognizes her and the screaming starts.
I’ve heard the rumors about how wild it can get, going out with Monroe, and I imagine since she’s headlining the concert tomorrow, Nashville is packed with her superfans.
The crowd presses in around us as we make our way up to the bouncer, bypassing the line.
Duke appears next to me, out of nowhere.
He’s not looking at me. His gaze is scanning the crowd.
I notice the bulge on his hip when someone bumps me and I fall into him.
They’re probably all carrying right now.
I feel a lot safer being with the Redford brothers than I ever did with Matt.
The bouncers let us in without even checking our IDs as soon as they see Monroe.
The brush of Duke’s hand at my lower back tingles my skin.
I follow behind Dolly and Sam. They lead us through the dimly lit bar.
The loud bass music vibrates the floor as we walk up a winding staircase.
People point and gape at Monroe and Cash in front.
Someone screams her name while other people pull their phones out to record.
“Is it always like this?” I turn to ask Duke, whose face is level with mine since I’m two steps above him.
He nods. “It’ll get worse as the night goes on. Word will spread that she’s here.” He grabs my hand, as if to reassure me that we’ll be okay.
I turn around and keep climbing the stairs, hoping half the bar isn’t getting flashed by my ass cheeks. I feel a brush against the back of my upper thighs, and when I turn around, I see his cowboy hat hovering right underneath the hem of my skirt.
He winks at me as we reach the top and puts the hat back on.
“Miss Blue and friends! Welcome! What are we drinking this evening?” A man in a black velvet suit with dangling fringe is grinning at us widely with bright white veneers. His bedazzled white cowboy hat stands out boldly against his skin.
“I’m thinking we’ll start with a round of tequila shots! Thank you!” Monroe takes a seat in the center of the leather sofa, patting the spots next to her for Rosie and Dolly.
I take mine on the other side of Dolly, who is grinning brightly at me as I sit down.
She leans toward me to talk into my ear. “Girl, spill. Are you into my brother now?”
I force out a laugh, even as my stomach tightens. “What? No! Not at all.”
His statement about us being neighbors and friends pops into my head.
“We’re just friends. Really good friends.”
Dolly squints at me, playing with the end of her long braid. “I see. Well, he’s obviously still got a huge crush on you.”
I shake my head. “We’re just friends. Really good friends.” I repeat his words.
She lifts a dark brow. “Really good friends, huh? Isn’t that, like, code for something else?”
I shake my head, not answering because Duke chooses that moment to sit next to me on the leather bench.
The bottle-service girl arrives with a beaming smile and a tray full of empty shot glasses. She has a bottle of tequila in her hand, which she uses to fill each glass after she sets the tray down on the table.
She adds lime to all the rims before going around to pass them out. Duke grabs two and hands me one. He clinks them together.
“To friendship and close neighbors.” He winks at me before downing his shot.
I tip mine over my lips, letting the liquor burn down my throat.
“I wanna try the hurricane shot! Sam told me about it. Can we get a tutorial?” Dolly squeals, handing me another shot glass.
Rosie rolls her eyes, and Monroe wriggles her eyebrows.
“Oh, we already tried it. I might’ve messed it up, so please show us!”
“Yes, please, so I can stop hearing about it and do it for my husband,” Rosie says, smirking.
All the guys look around guiltily, except for Duke. He stands up and grabs an empty glass on the bar that’s set up for a bartender to come make more drinks.
My throat constricts. I look around, hoping to find someone else I could do it on besides Duke. It was way too intimate last time, and now I know what he sounds like when he comes.
I take a step toward the neighboring VIP booth with a group of men in crisp white shirts and nice suits. Surely, one of them would be willing to let me do a demonstration on him.
“Okay, let me see if I can find a willing victim.”
“No need. I’m willing.” Duke is pouring a glass of water from a water pitcher.
My chest tightens. I lick my chapped lips, looking up at him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” He drags a chair over to the bar and takes a seat.
I take a step closer, gnawing on my lower lip as my panic rises.
He pats the bar top in front of him. This bar is higher than the one at Lucky’s Pub, and the chair is shorter than the barstools there.
If I sit on it, even with how tall Duke is, my crotch will be less than a foot from his face while he’s in that chair.
“I’ve been dying to see this!” Monroe cheers me on, seeming to realize I need some encouragement.
Since he’s already sitting down, the only way I can get up on the bar top without flashing the entire crowd is to step on his leg.
His face is almost level with mine when he’s sitting down.
I place my boot on his thigh, and he grabs my hand to steady me as I lift myself up and plant my butt on the bar top.
When I look down at him, his eyes are respectfully not sliding up my thighs to sneak a peek at where I’m sure my underwear is visible. He removes his cowboy hat, placing it on the bar beside me. I grab the tequila shot, looking up at the girls.
“It’s pretty simple. You spit the liquor into his mouth, splash him with water, then slap the shit out of him.”
Rosie snickers, leaning forward. The whole group is tuned in, ready to take notes.
I guess class is in session. I tip the shot glass over my lips and hold it in my mouth.
My fingers find his jawline, pulling him toward me.
I get close enough that my lips are less than an inch from his mouth and spit it out into his. His eyes hold mind the entire time.
I lick my lips before grabbing the water. I splash his face with it and rear my hand back to slap him—hard. His head jerks to the side. I hear a collective gasp from the onlookers and the group in the VIP next to ours. I swallow, wondering if I hit him too hard.
He slowly turns back to face me, blue eyes blazing.
He rises to a standing position, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me toward him.
His lips crash against mine. He tastes like tequila and lime and bad decisions.
I instantly melt into him, grabbing the front of his shirt with both hands.
He groans, his other hand squeezing the top of my thigh.
“Damn,” I hear one of the guys say.
Duke is kissing me like I’m not the damaged single mom who doesn’t even have my own place to live and more baby-daddy drama than a reality housewives show.
I whimper when he lightly squeezes my neck. My tongue brushes against his lips, drawing a male groan from the back of his throat. I’m completely lost in this kiss, and it feels more intimate than the first one we shared in his truck that was all heat and passion.
This kiss is like a conversation between us. It’s him telling me that he’s been thinking about that kiss all this time, that we’ve both been waiting for the chance to repeat it.
Finally, we break apart. We’re both panting when he looks into my eyes and gently brushes a blond curl behind my ear.
“You’re not allowed to give those out at work anymore.”
I raise a brow. “Oh?”