Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Glancing over at me, she asks, “You’ve already decided? Doesn’t matter if Chris Hemsworth walks into Whiskey’s, you’ll say no, sorry, I made my best friend a promise she hopes I don’t keep?”
How can I not laugh? “You’re ridiculous, you know that? Anyway, he’s married with a gaggle of kids. So no, I won’t be hooking up with Chris Hemsworth if he walks into Whiskey’s.”
“Ooh, what about Brad Pitt? He’s on the market.”
“How many kids does he have again?” I’m already talking myself out of him before counting. “Nah, he’s got that amazing face, but I’m looking to forget my troubles, not get into more with a celebrity.”
“I’d get into trouble with him.”
“You get first dibs then,” I say, wondering why we’re having to talk over the music. Turning the volume down, I add, “You’re free to do as you please. I’ll happily be your wingwoman.”
“You say that now, but I know you get lonely.” She smirks. “And horny. Not that I can blame you.” When her eyes return to the road, she asks, “What’s the latest with Tagger? He’s still in town, right?”
“He’s still here. He was back out at the ranch today filling in for Davey, but I only saw him from a distance.”
“On purpose or?”
Lauralee has known me too long and doesn’t let me get away with anything. “Do you have to see right through me every time?” Grinning, I laugh enough to be heard, but I can’t say it goes deep. It’s just all I can muster when thinking about Tag. His rejection still stings. “I wanted to go out to forget about him, quite honestly.”
“We can do that right after you fill me in.”
Here’s the thing with my friend—she doesn’t push to get the gossip. She keeps at it to make sure I’m okay. But getting into the weeds about what happened at the river doesn’t sound like a fun way to kick off a night on the town. I angle toward her and rest my head back. “I promise to share the details soon, but I don’t want to think about him at all tonight. Is that okay?”
She reaches over and rubs my arm. “Of course.” Pulling into the lot, she parks in the field next to the bar since there are no closer spots. We do last-minute lip gloss touch-ups in the mirror before stepping out. Hooking her arm in mine, I walk with her toward the front door. She pulls it open but turns back to say, “And don’t worry, we are Tagger Grange–free tonight.”
“I appreciate it.”
She’s holding the door for me, so I walk in but stop just inside to wait for her. “Beer?” I ask. “It’s on me.”
“Shiner, please.”
I turn around, but I can’t force my feet to move forward the moment my eyes lock on those greens set on me from the other side of the bar. Damn him . . .
Why is the universe so cruel to me?
I turn in a rush to push Lauralee back out the door, but she’s been working out and holds her own against my tackle. “What the hell, Chris?”
Stepping back, I realize I just made a minor scene he most definitely caught. “Can we go?”
“We just got he—oh!” Her gaze hangs over my shoulder as her jaw drops open. “Wow. Um . . .”
My heart thumps, my breathing comes in rapid-fire from my chest, and my thoughts scramble as I try to figure out how to handle this situation. I freeze, pretending nothing is out of the norm.
She whispers, “He’s behind you.”
“Walking or standing?”
“He can hear everything you’re saying, Pris,” he says. Crap. His voice doesn’t hold the humor that he usually carries around me, but more the same tone by the river.
I lock eyes on Lauralee as panic overtakes me. She wraps her hands around mine. “I think you should talk to him,” she whispers, “and put whatever has you so twisted behind you.”
“Sure, why don’t I do that, Benedict Arnold.” Through clenched lips, I mouth, “What happened to us . . .” I signal behind me with a nod. “Being Tagger Grange–free tonight? That sure flew out the window fast.”
“I can still hear you,” he says, his dulcet tone slinking under the chip on my shoulder and begging me to turn around.
I cross my arms in defiance. “Maybe you should stop eavesdropping then?” I say loud enough for him to hear.
“I’m sorry, Pris.”
Turning just slightly to the side, I steal a peek at him from my periphery. “For?”
“For hurting your feelings. It wasn’t my intention.”
Call me a sucker, but an apology gets me every time. I don’t know why I find people who own their mistakes so heartening, but it’s something I value in a person. So it would be hypocritical to hold Tagger to a different standard. I turn all the way around with my arms still crossed and question him under a perfectly styled arched eyebrow. I made the effort tonight before I knew I’d be running into him. I see Benedict has left me unsupervised, which could be bad for Tagger. “What was your intention, then?”