Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92779 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
“I’m good. You? Sorry, didn’t mean to make you lose your dance partner. You mind?” Marshall offers his hand.
I hesitate for a split second, thinking.
One, Marshall was a decent guy in high school, and while I have no interest in him, it’s nice to catch up with an old friend. And two, there is no good reason why I shouldn’t dance with him given the fact Dalton’s probably done hooking up with Blondie and moving on to her friend by now. Or having a threesome with both of them, given his reputation.
So I slip my hand into Marshall’s and let him guide me around the dance floor.
He’s a great dancer who makes me look better than I am, spinning me and shooting around my back only to join me right in step. All the while, he easily carries on a conversation. “I hear your dream came true—sports on the local news?”
I nod, not having to count the way I usually do with his strong lead. “What about you?”
“Home visiting for the week,” he says as we cut to the right, “but living in Wyoming now. Welding for the coal mine.”
I smile up at him. “I can see you doing that.” Marshall was a quiet guy in school, often keeping to himself, so working long hours inside a helmet where he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone sounds right up his alley. “It seems to suit you.”
He’s obviously a hard worker. His hands are rough and calloused where he’s gently holding mine, and he’s solid beside me.
Not like Dalton, who’s monstrous.
And that doesn’t matter, I remind myself, because he’s off with someone else and whatever we’re doing is casual. Suuuper casual and meaningless.
“Thanks. I like it up there,” Marshall says before clearing his throat. “Met a guy in the mine, and we’re saving up to buy land.”
I smile widely and swat his rock-hard shoulder. “Marshall! Good for you!” I exclaim, happy for him, and he ducks his head, hiding his answering smile.
“Thanks.”
We dance the rest of the song plus one more, catching up on the old days and current events around town. At one point, I spy Dalton stalking around the edge of the floor, and when we get close, I boldly meet his eye.
He looks ready to spit nails. Or beat the shit out of Marshall.
I toss him a cavalier wink, letting my internal pettiness loose.
Payback’s a bitch. And so am I.
Chapter 14
Dalton
Where the fuck is she?
I was watching Joy and some asshole dance around the floor, and she winked at me, and then I lost sight of them. I’ve stalked the perimeter of the floor three times, checked the bar, and scanned the picnic tables where people rest and talk. I don’t see her anywhere.
What’s worse? I don’t see the asshole dude-bro in a red flannel either.
She didn’t leave with him, did she? No way. She wouldn’t have done that. Right?
I replay that wink, the fire in my gut burning hotter and higher than the bonfire.
“Hey, man! Whatcha doing?” Shepherd asks as he comes up with a bottle of hard cider.
It takes effort, but I force myself to calm, or at least to appear that way. In fact, I stretch my arms overhead and fake a yawn. “Think I’m heading out,” I tell him.
“Already?” He balks as he throws an arm over my shoulders like he’s gonna keep me here by force. But then he grins evilly and looks around. “Where’d Everly go? She waiting on you somewhere?”
“Who?”
My brow furrows in confusion and Shep chuckles. “Not a love connection with the blonde, then, I take it.”
Oh yeah, the picture girl . . . Everly. I shake my head. “Nah, not feeling it.”
Don’t ask questions. Don’t ask questions. For the love of fuck, don’t ask me anything. I send the prayer up to the moon high in the sky, hoping Shepherd doesn’t pry into my personal life right now. But one way to ensure he doesn’t is to take a play from his book and go on the offensive instead of waiting and playing defense the way I typically do.
“What about you? You hunt down Joy’s friend?” I thread a heavy dose of teasing into the question to lighten the mood.
“Jealous?” he replies.
I chuckle, pushing his shoulder. “The only thing I’m jealous of is your heart because it’s pounding inside you and I’m not.”
“Aw, love you, too, bro,” he drawls, shoving me back. “See you next week then?”
I nod, mentally checking my schedule for the next few days. “Yeah, I fly home Wednesday and back on Sunday. I’ll tell Mom you said hi.”
We high-five and I escape, still searching for Joy as I get to my truck.
By the time I get to Joy’s apartment, I’ve mentally psyched myself up and am 100 percent certain I’m gonna end up grabbing Flannel Guy by his too-long hair and shoving him out the door in his underwear.