Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Duke chuckles. “No reason.”
“You got somethin’ you wanna say, brother?”
“Not at all, brother. Just haven’t seen you this keyed up about a girl in a while.”
“It ain’t about a girl.”
Wyatt’s turn to snicker. “Sure it isn’t.”
“Y’all want me to turn around? Because I will.”
Ryder holds up his hands. “Let’s just go get some drinks, all right? Nothing is gonna happen.”
“Thank you,” I reply, even as I have the very distinct feeling that something is, in fact, going to happen tonight.
Or maybe I just want it to happen, because I’m sick of feeling so…tight. Wound up. Hopeful.
I hold my breath every time I turn a corner now, hoping I’ll run into Mollie. I can hardly sleep because I want to know what witty, pervy things she’ll say to me over coffee the next morning. And at night, after supper, I think about her in the tub. The one in the New House has a Jacuzzi setting. She turn it on, get herself off?
She think about me while she does it? Or she think about the prick who drives the Denali instead?
I’m vibrating by the time we roll up to The Rattler. I stalk inside and look around. Mollie is nowhere in sight.
I tell myself I’m relieved as I belly up to the bar. Tallulah pops the top off a Shiner Bock and slides it across the counter.
“Thank you,” I say. “Can I get a shot of tequila too?”
Tallulah raises a brow. “Bad day?”
“No.” I tip back the longneck. “Yes. Kind of.”
She wordlessly pours me a shot of Casamigos Añejo, which I swallow in a single gulp.
The burn feels good.
The band starts. A Johnny Cash cover, which has the already-crowded bar hollering and stomping their feet. Everyone is smiling. Everyone is dancing, having a good time.
Except me.
“Wanna talk about it?”
I glance to my right and see Wyatt standing at the bar. “Talk about what?”
“Dude, don’t play dumb with me. You like Mollie.”
I could deny it. I should deny it.
Instead, I sip my beer. Most people are on the dance floor anyway. No one’s paying us any mind.
“Something happen between y’all when you took her to your cabin earlier this week?”
I run a hand over the back of my neck. “How do you know about that?”
“Duke can’t keep a secret to save his life.”
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
“That’s good.”
“Trust me, no one knows better than I do how bad me sleeping with Mollie would be.”
“But something did happen.”
“We talked.”
“About?”
I tilt back my head, the tequila making my skin feel buzzy and warm. “Nothing. Everything. Garrett, mostly. Mom and Dad.”
His eyebrows pop up. “You talked about Mom and Dad with Mollie?”
“What? She asked, so I told her.”
“You opened up to her. The girl you hated so much, you could barely stand to look at her.”
I glance toward the door. “I did, yeah.”
Wyatt leans his elbows on the bar. “I take back what I said. I kinda like this for you. You’ve been in an awful good mood lately, and now I know why.”
Shaking my head, I hold up my hand for another beer. “Doesn’t matter. She’s Garrett’s daughter. Our boss.”
“Bet she wants you to boss her around, don’t she?”
I slam my beer down on the bar. “Wyatt.”
“Fine, fine.” He holds up his hands. “But now that I’m thinkin’ about it, would it be so bad if y’all joined forces? If things worked out between the two of you, that could be good for us, brother.”
“Or it could mean losing everything we’ve worked so hard for.”
Wyatt tilts his head. “I think you need to give yourself more credit. You’re not young anymore—”
“Shut up.”
“You know what I mean. You’re not stupid. Or reckless. I don’t know.” He shrugs, drinking his beer. “Maybe it’s your time.”
“My time?”
“To settle down. Find your person. Be happy, for Christ’s sake.”
The idea sends a burst of something…not unpleasant through my bloodstream.
What if Wyatt’s right? It’s crazy, yeah. But crazier shit’s happened.
“Didn’t Tim McGraw and Faith Hill first meet because they were working together?” he continues. “Now look at ’em. They’ve built a goddamn empire together. Could be you and Mollie.”
I smile, unable to help myself. “But I’m better-looking than Tim, right?”
“Dude, no one’s better-looking than Tim. Have you seen him lately? The man is a fuckin’ ripped, music-making machine. My point is, maybe…well, who knows what the future holds? But it’d be a cool thing if you and Mollie got together and made some—”
“Wyatt.”
“Good business decisions.” He flashes me a wolfish smile. “That’s what I was gonna say.”
“Sure you were.” I glance toward the door again. My heart dips when it opens.
My heart full-on falls a hundred stories when Mollie walks in, followed by a guy with slicked-back hair. He’s wearing dark jeans and a button-up shirt.
Fucker is way overdressed for The Rattler. He sticks out like a sore thumb. But Mollie—