5. Piper
Piper
It’s only been a month since I started dating Travis, and in that time, I’ve seen Christian once. It’s like he’s vanished—poof, gone, like someone flipped a switch and snuffed out the sun.
Gone are those nights at the bar where he’d make me forget time existed.
Now all I get is a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes before he bolts like I’m carrying the plague.
Something’s changed, and it knots my stomach in a way I can’t ignore.
I hate how the bar feels too quiet without his voice and the way my nights drag without those conversations that make me feel seen in ways Travis hasn’t yet managed.
I assumed I’d see more of Christian now that I’m with his son, but I learned fast that Travis has no time for his father.
It’s a grudge I can’t wrap my head around because the Christian Travis describes isn’t the Christian I know.
I won’t be judging the man who made me feel more at home in five minutes than Travis has in a few weeks, based on some family drama I don’t understand.
I picked up an extra shift at the bar tonight. I’ve got to go to some fancy birthday thing for Travis’s grandfather this weekend, and he’s already told me I need to find something that looks expensive because I’ll be meeting his mom for the first time.
So basically, I need money for an outfit that’ll help me blend into their world long enough to get through the night without embarrassing myself.
Which means I’m here, elbow-deep in the beautiful chaos of the bar, trading extra hours for extra cash all for a dress I don’t even want, to survive a night I’m dreading, in a world I don’t think I’m meant to fit into.
I’m stacking glasses fresh from the dishwasher when I hear the door swing open, and when I look up at the mirror behind the bar, I see that hot daddy cowboy, and my insides twist like I have no control over my body.
I set the last glass down as he heads straight for me, and before I turn, I take a quick look at myself because, you know… it’s Christian, and I’m apparently the kind of girl who still wants to impress her boyfriend’s father.
“Hey, stranger. What can I get you?” I throw on the smile that comes with the job, but he just blinks at me like he wasn’t expecting me to be here.
“You don’t usually work on a Wednesday.”
So it’s like that.
He comes in when I’m not here.
“Callan gave me a few extra shifts,” I say with a shrug, trying to keep it breezy, like that realization doesn’t sting a little more than it should.
He nods, and we’re both just standing there a little too long, caught in a silence that feels heavier than it has any right to.
Eventually, I clear my throat. “So… what’ll it be? ”
“Bourbon, please.”
I force a smile, even though I wish I understood why everything suddenly feels different between us.
I turn to make his drink, letting my hands stay busy while my thoughts spiral.
As I tuck my hair behind my ear, I lift my gaze just enough to catch a glimpse of the mirror behind the bar.
Christian’s gaze burns into my back as he drags a hand along his jaw.
The heat spikes up my spine, and with it comes a rush of guilt.
I shouldn’t still be this responsive to him.
I finish making the drink and slide the bourbon across the bar. He nods once, turns, and starts to walk away without saying a word, and something inside me snaps.
“Do you really hate my company that much?” I laugh, like it’s playful, but we both know I mean it.
Christian stops mid-step and turns back toward me, resting his forearms on the bar like he’s bracing himself.
“I don’t hate your company, Piper, not even close. ”
“Then prove it,” I challenge, folding my arms across my chest. “Sit. Stay and talk to me like you used to.”
The hesitation in his eyes says everything before his mouth ever moves.
He won’t.
We both know he won’t.
“Is it because I’m with Travis?” I ask, pushing past the fear curling in my chest. “Is that what this is about?”
Screw it, I said it.
“Are you happy with him?” he finally asks, and I nod because I’m not unhappy. I’m just… not burning. “Then no, I don’t have a problem.”
The jukebox shifts to a slower song behind us. Laughter echoes near the pool table, while someone else is hollering from the back corner. The bar is noisy, but none of it really registers when he’s looking at me like that.
“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I have been.” His honesty lands hard between us. “But I’m sorry if it made you feel like it was something you did.”
“So it wasn’t?”
“It was,” he admits. “But not because you’re dating my son.” He knocks back the rest of his drink in one smooth motion and sets the glass down with a soft clink. “It’s because you started dating anyone.”
My heart stumbles in my chest.
He was into me, and I missed it.
What the hell do I even do with that?
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says, shrugging like he hasn’t just shifted my entire world off its axis. “As long as Travis treats you right, that’s all I care about.”
“Well, will you start coming back to the bar more? It hasn’t been the same here without you.”
He looks at me for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry. I’ll be around. Everything will be fine from here on out.”
But it doesn’t feel fine. It feels like I just found something I didn’t know I’d lost, only to realize I can’t keep it.
I think about that night more often than I should.
The way Christian looked me dead in the eye, admitting, in his own roundabout way, that he was attracted to me before slamming the door on it like he hadn’t just rearranged my entire brain.
He lit the match, watched me catch fire, and then handed me a bucket of ice water with a pat on the head.
But staying with Travis—hell, even starting something with Travis—was probably my first mistake in a long list of them.
I don’t know what kind of shit I pulled in a past life to earn this karmic lesson, but clearly, I pissed off the universe’s pettiest gods because this is the kind of punishment that shows you exactly what you could’ve had, just in time to remind you you’ll never, ever get it.
Because now that I’ve had the son, there’s no way I’m ever getting the daddy.
And now here I am, stuck listening to Travis complain again while I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at a pile of clothes I haven’t even touched.
“Do you really need all this, Piper?”
Do I really need you, Travis?
No. A thousand times, no.
But if putting up with Travis’s dull, lifeless personality and endless manipulative bullshit means I get to spend two weeks staring at his dad, who is undoubtedly the hottest piece of cowboy ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of objectifying, then I’ll grit my teeth, nod, and pretend to care because Christian Crawford is worth every second of this misery.
I try to talk about him in a way that doesn’t give me away or force me to admit what my heart is screaming at me—that my attraction to him runs deeper than the physical.
It’s not just his body, though that alone is enough to keep me up at night.
It’s him. It’s his whole energy and the way he carries himself.
And what did I do? I went and dated his son like the dumbass I am.
I promised to help up the mountain while Christian was busy with Christmas tree preparations and farm work, and I refuse to be the woman who backs out and becomes another complication in their already complicated family dynamic.
I know it’s dangerous territory, but I’m walking right into this with my eyes wide open, knowing that all I’ll ever get to do islookat that mountain of a man.
But honestly, I did this to myself when I friend-zoned us both before I even realized there was more on the table, all because I said yes to the wrong Crawford.
Travis and I have reached a point where everything he does irritates me.
Even the way he stands there staring at my half-packed bags is enough to piss me off, and after last night’s charming little performance where he demanded a blow job like I should be grateful for the privilege of having him in my bed?
Yeah, that was the final nail in this relationship’s coffin.
I’m sure Travis thinks he’s doing me a favor by bringing me along to the family farm, but I’m not going for him.
I’ll be there for the cowboy with the arms that look like they could lift entire tractors—arms that could pin me to a wall just as easily as they could pull me close.
I’m going for the way he looks at me when Travis isn’t paying attention and the way he listens when I talk, making me feel like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
I want to trace that cowboy’s jaw with my tongue, not just my lips. I want to feel the burn of his stubble against my skin and find out if he tastes as good as he looks.
I have no idea what kind of magical cowboy genetics created that walking wet dream, but whatever they are, I’m feral for him. I already know I’ll be burying my face in my pillow tonight, biting down hard just to keep from moaning his name.
Jesus Christ, my poor little bullet vibrator better be fully charged because it’s about to put in some serious fucking overtime while I’m under Christian’s roof.
Travis’s bedroom skills are those of a fumbling teen who doesn’t know how to touch a girl.
It’s like he learned female anatomy from a badly drawn stick figure and decided enthusiasm might somehow compensate for total incompetence.
By the time he’s finished rubbing one side of my pussy, the other side is practically jealous, even though it knows it’s never going to enjoy it.
The sadist.
His touch is so spectacularly misguided, so monumentally inept, that I’m pretty sure my vagina has developed PTSD.
Bless. His. Fucking. Heart.
Bless. My. Neglected. Vagina.
I’ve reached the point where I’m in a long-term, deeply committed love affair with six different sex toys and the filthiest thoughts about another man.