“MOM, YOU’RE SURE YOU don’t want me to hang out here tonight? I can just stay in my room. I won’t interfere in spa night. Though I have been told I do a mean facial.”
My mother shook her head. “Ew, and I don’t even want to know who would’ve told you that. No, you’re out of here. Go have fun with Alex. See some of the guys. Bridget’s fine with us. Right, darlin’?”
“Right.” My daughter turned from the kitchen table, where she was helping my mom mix up some kind of hair conditioner goop. “No boys allowed tonight. It’s girls’ night.”
“Fine, fine. I can see where I’m not wanted.” I stood up, pushed in my chair and tugged on one of Bridget’s braids. “I’ll get changed. Alex is picking me up in twenty minutes.”
I passed Reenie coming down the steps as I was going up. She carried a stack of towels and shot me a wide smile. “Getting your cowboy on tonight¸ Flynnigan?”
I stopped, my hand gripping the bannister. “What did you call me?”
Maureen turned to look back at me. “Flynnigan. Why?”
“No one ever called me that but Dad.” I almost whispered the words.
“Oh.” She nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . step on anything there. I didn’t even think of it.”
“It’s okay.” I shrugged it off. “Just took me by surprise.”
“I miss him, too.” She hugged the towels to her chest. “So much has been happening the last few months, but every now and again, I swear I hear him singing, or smell his aftershave.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my jaw. “Think he’s hanging around to make sure we’re behaving?”
“Knowing Dad, probably the opposite. Hoping we won’t behave.” She grinned. “So I stand by my original sentiment: go get your cowboy on tonight, Flynnigan.”
I changed into a faded white and blue cotton dress shirt and rolled the sleeves to just below my elbows. Opening my closet door, I looked at my beat up old boots, the ones Ali had given me for Christmas in our junior year of high school. I’d left them behind when I fled Burton, not wanting any reminders of Georgia or the girl I’d loved.
But tonight, I was feeling the need to go old-school. I reached for the boots and sat down to pull them on, feeling them mold to my feet again, just as comfortable and perfect as they’d been a decade before.
Back downstairs, I kissed Bridget good-bye and teased all the girls about sneaking back to take pictures of them in their clay face masks. I heard the purr of Alex’s Porsche as he turned into the driveway.
“Behave yourself!” My mother had to get in last word. “But have fun.”
I stood in the open doorway and winked at her. “No promises.” Closing the door behind me, I slid into the passenger seat of my friend’s fine machine.
“Check you out.” I slammed the car door and tugged my seatbelt across my lap. “Business must be good.”
“No complaints.” Alex turned in the driver’s seat to back out, and the scent of his very expensive cologne drifted my way.
“Hey, do guys really dig that smelly stuff?” I stretched out my legs.
Alex glanced at me. “Why do you ask? You looking to change teams?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. Just curious.”
“Well, then, in my experience, yes, they do. At least some. But it’s just like with girls. There’s no one size fits all.”
I grunted. “If it’s just like with women, I don’t see the point. I mean, I hang out with dudes because chicks are confusing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the same the world around, buddy. Sorry to burst your bubble.” He sped up as we left the town limits, turning onto the county highway. “Is there any one chick who’s particularly confusing to you?”
“I live in a household of women. They’re all that way.”
“I thought maybe you were thinking of one who doesn’t live with you.”
Alex was about as subtle as a freight train. “Why don’t you just come out and ask me how things are going with Ali?”
“I would, but I saw her this afternoon and got the scoop. She thinks you’re messing with her.”
I frowned, my forehead drawing together. “Messing with her? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“She thinks you’re just interested in her because she’s here, she’s part of your past, and you’re being nostalgic. Or some shit like that.” He slowed as we approached a huge building with bright neon letters on the side. “I know the truth, though. She’s scared. She doesn’t remember how to trust, and she’s afraid you’ll hurt her again.”
“I’ll hurt her?” A pinprick of guilt pierced my chest. “The fuck? Who’s the one who changed the plan at the last fucking minute? Who’s the one who decided I wasn’t important enough to leave her precious farm?”
“Whoa there, dude. Don’t kill the therapist. I’m just telling you what I think. Maybe if you understand where she’s coming from, you two can figure out where to go from here.”
“We don’t go anywhere from here. Except we’re both Bridget’s parents. She’s the only thing we’ve done well together, and even then, we almost screwed up. Ali told me today that we need to stick to being parents only, for Bridget’s sake. Maybe she’s right.”
Alex found a parking spot in the back. I checked out the small groups of girls who clumped together around the lot, dressed in short skirts, tight tops and boots. Then there were the guys who were checking out the girls, tipping back longnecks and slapping each other on the shoulder.
Oh, yeah, I was back in Georgia.
Alex and I made our way inside, waving to a few people who shouted out greetings to us as we passed. I noticed more than one girl flash an invitation to me with her eyes, and one who was either braver or drunker flashed more than an invitation.
“Now that’s class.” There was laughter in Alex’s voice. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Thanks. But no thanks. I’m just here to let off some steam and hang out with you. And maybe get a little wasted.”
The atmosphere inside was surprisingly upscale for Burton, Georgia. The circular bar dominated the huge room and was already surrounded by people ordering or waiting to order. To the left of the bar, tables circled by chairs filled the space, and to the right was the dance floor. A band was setting up on the stage that ran along the back wall.
Alex and I pushed through to the bar. A tall guy with black hair and a shorter, bald man were waiting on patrons, moving with between the people and the liquor with relaxed grins that belied their speed. I was impressed by how laid-back they both seemed to be, considering how many people were calling out, demanding attention and booze.
“Hey, Mason!” Alex cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. “How’s it hanging, dude?”
The black-haired man turned, and catching sight of Alex, grinned. “You son of a bitch, you back in town again? You sure you really live in Atlanta? I’m thinking of calling bullshit on that.”
Alex spread out his hands. “What can I say? The charms of Burton keep luring me home.” He hooked a thumb in my direction. “Mason, do you remember Flynn Evans? He’s back in town, too.”
“Evans.” Mason extended an arm over the bar, and I shook his hand. “Long time, no see. Heard you got out of Dodge, too. What brought you back?”
I laughed. “Too much to get into with this many people around. Let’s just say, a death brought me back and a birth kept me in town. For now.” I waved my hand in a circle between us. “Great place you have here. Seems like you’re packing them in.”
“Every weekend, bro.” Mason nodded. “We bring in some hot new music acts, serve good liquor at decent prices, give ’em a place to dance.” He leaned closer to be heard when he lowered his voice. “Dance floor is for the ladies, of course. All of them told me they had no place to dance until we opened. They come and they bring their boyfriends, or they come here to hook up, so plenty of guys want to be here, too. It’s a win-win.”
“Works for those of us not looking for ladies, too. Some of us come to dance and pick up hot dudes.” Alex wiggled his eyebrows, and I was happy to see Mason throw back his head and laugh. Most people in Burton accepted Alex as he was, but there were always a few rednecks ready to give him shit. Nice to see Mason wasn’t one of them.
“Touché, dude. Absolutely, we don’t discriminate on the basis of sex, race, coolness or who finds who attractive.” He glanced over his shoulder at the other bartender. “So what do you guys want to drink? First round’s on the house.”
“Hey, you don’t have to do that. But thanks.” Alex cast his eyes upward, thinking. “I’ll have boilermaker.”
“Make it two. Thanks.”
Mason pulled our beers, poured the shots and slid them all across the bar to us. “Bottoms up, guys. Have a good time tonight.” He started to turn away and then stopped, staring over my shoulder with big eyes and whistling low. “Holy shit. Check out the legs that just walked in.”
I followed the direction of his gaze, grinning when I spotted what he saw. Yeah, he wasn’t wrong. The platform just inside the door was raised above the rest of the floor, so her face was hidden by all the people between us, but those legs . . . fuck. Her feet and ankles were covered by heavily overstitched black cowboy boots, but the expanse of skin between the top of the leather and the hem of her very short flowered dress was smokin.’ Lightly tanned, ultra-toned and . . . bare. I poked Alex in the ribs, but the look on his face stopped me from saying anything.
“God almighty. Shit just got interesting.” A broad smile spread over his mouth, but he was still looking at the legs. No, he was looking at the body that went with the legs. The crowd had parted just enough for us to see the rest of her, and my heart thudded deep into my stomach when I saw the face.
“What the hell’s she doing here?”
Alex shrugged. “Looks to me like she’s getting her party on.” He wagged his head, grin still in place. “Damn, I forgot how good our girl cleans up.”
He wasn’t wrong. Her light brown hair was down, falling in fat curls over her shoulders. That was about all that covered her shoulders; the little dress she wore had the tiniest straps, making me wonder how it was staying up, because her tits were definitely on display.
I’d always been a boob guy, and Ali’s were my favorite. The first boobs a guy gets to touch always stay in his mind. Since being back in town, I hadn’t had the chance to really appreciate her rack, but now there it was, for all the world to see. I shifted on my bar stool, because suddenly my jeans were tight in the crotch.
The dress dipped low to give a tantalizing view of her cleavage, clung to her figure and then ended just about an inch below her ass. The fabric fluttered, giving the illusion that it might offer a better view yet, should just the right breeze come along.
Ali flipped her hair back, her smile huge as she spoke to someone behind her. Sam. Okay, so she was here with her brother. That was okay, right? And then I spied a redhead and realized Meghan, Sam’s girlfriend, was here, too. As I watched, another guy, in jeans, a black T-shirt and a cowboy hat approached her and laid his hand on her bare shoulder.
I was on my feet before I knew it, and if it hadn’t been for Alex’s hand on my arm, I might’ve bolted through the crowd and slugged the guy. But he held me back.
“Don’t do it.” His words were low, but I could hear them well enough. “At least, don’t do it if you’re not ready to follow through.”
“Follow through? What’s that supposed to mean?” I growled, still on my feet.
“I mean, if you’re going to punch that guy for touching your woman, you better make damn sure she is your woman, and that you’re willing to throw her over your shoulder and haul her out of here. Not just for tonight, not just for this month . . . for good.”
I swallowed hard. Alex was right. The fury that pounded in my veins and in my head was still pushing me to rip that douchebag’s hand of Ali and knock him flat to the floor, but what would I do after that? Bow to Ali and walk away? Grab her and kiss her crazy? I didn’t know. And if I didn’t know, I needed to back down.
I swung back to the bar, dumped the shot of whisky into the beer and slammed it down. Mason had moved to the other side of the bar to attend to other customers, but I caught the attention of the shorter man.
“Tequila shots. Double and keep them coming, okay?”
The bartender flicked a glance at me, over my shoulder and then back to my face. Whatever was there must’ve told him I was serious, because he pulled out the bottle and set me up.
Alex met my eyes. “So we’re doing this?”
“Fuck, yeah.” I poured the first shot down my throat and without pausing, followed it with a second. “We’re doing it.”
Across the room, the band began to tune up, and the crowd roared in anticipation. Baldy, the bartender, set up me up again while I leaned against the wooden bar, scanning the crowd, seeking out one light brown head. I spied her in the middle of a group of men. One of them handed her a shot—I was pretty sure it was whiskey—and like any good Georgia woman, she tossed it back without hesitation and with nary a grimace. Another guy supplied her with a second.
The DJ who was playing the music before the band kicked off started another song—I was pretty sure it was Luke Bryan. Ali grabbed the hand of the nearest man and hauled him onto the dance floor. She danced with the same abandon I remembered from our high school dances, tossing her head, gyrating her hips and running her hands over the back of her neck, lifting her hair. She used to do that when we were making love, too—a sudden, vivid memory flashed across my mind of her straddling my body, grinding herself against me, fingers dug into her hair to get it away from her sweaty neck. Her eyes were closed and her lips just slightly parted as pleasure washed over both of us . . .
Fuck. I wasn’t near drunk enough yet if I could still remember that. I reached for the shot glasses again and began to remedy that situation.
“Hey. Aren’t you Flynn Evans?”
I glanced to my left. A pretty blonde with wide brown eyes and a tight tank top over a denim skirt that barely hid her bikini line was smiling at me.
“Yeah, so I hear. Do I know you?”
She giggled, and it went up my spine, until I had to grit my teeth to stop from wincing. “You were three years ahead of me in school. I’m Shayna Parkins.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, but I smiled and nodded. “Sure. Good to see you again.”
Whether or not Shayna bought my line didn’t seem to matter. She clutched at my arm, rubbing her tits into the side of my body. Shit. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I waited for the same reaction from my body that the memory of Ali had evoked, but there was nothing. Absolutely frickin’ nothing.
She was holding a beer in her free hand. Draining it, she set the empty glass on the bar and leaned into me. “Want to dance?”
I didn’t. I wanted to stay on this bar stool and brood about Ali, but since the girl in question was currently on the middle of the dance floor, grinding against the guy who stood behind her with his hands way too close to her breasts, I nodded and stood up. “Sure.”
Alex shook his head. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He shouted it into my ear.
“Maybe you should be asking your other best friend that question.” I jerked my head toward Ali.
“I’m not here with Ali. I’m here with you.” His fingers curled around an empty shot glass. “Sam and Meghan are in charge of Ali tonight. I just want to make sure you don’t do anything you regret.”
“Way too late for that one, buddy.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to dance. Keep my spot warm, okay?”
There were so many bodies undulating on the wooden floor that at first I wasn’t sure there’d be room for Shayna and me. But I’d underestimated her determination. She dragged me through a couple of groups and between a few couples until we found a space big enough for the both of us . . . providing we stood very close together.
I dropped my hands to her hips as she linked her hands behind my neck. The front of her body pressed into mine, swaying side to side. Gazing over her head, I tried to look for Ali without being obvious about it. Her back was to me, as she faced her partner, who I realized with dawning horror was Trent Wagner.
“What the fuck is she thinking?” I spoke out loud without realizing it.
“What’d you say?” Shayna stood on her toes and shouted over the classic Garth Brooks song playing.
“Nothing. Sorry.” I wracked my brain for any kind of conversation I could possibly have with the girl in my arms. “So, uh, you still live in Burton?”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “I work at the Piggly Wiggly. You left town for a while, didn’t you?”
For a while. Like, nine years. “Yeah, I did. I’m a photojournalist.” I didn’t play the status card often, if ever, but what the hell. I wasn’t sure this chick even knew what a photojournalist was.
“A photowhat?” Her pretty brow wrinkled in confusion.
Nailed it. “Photojournalist. Ah, I take pictures of news stories for different magazines and newspapers. A few TV news shows, too, now and then.”
“Oh, awesome! So do you, like, cover the People’s Choice? Do you get to take pictures of all the celebrities?”
I lowered my hands to her ass, just to remind myself that conversation wasn’t all she had to offer. “Uh, no. I don’t cover any of the award shows. Mostly I do political news.”
“Oh.” Clearly I was a disappointment. “Are you living back here now?”
“For a while. Hey, do you know that guy over there?” The crowd had parted enough that we had a perfect view of Ali and company. Shayna followed my gaze.
“Oh, yeah. Trent. He was in your class, wasn’t he?”
“Mmmhmm. Haven’t seen him since I’ve been back in town. What’s he up to?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not much. He’s here every weekend, picking up a different girl. Works out on the Benningers’ farm during the week.”
“Huh. Doesn’t sound like you think much of him.”
“Well, he’s hot, no question, but he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”
I bit in the inside of my lips to keep from laughing. Takes one to know one. And then I felt guilty, because I didn’t know this girl. She might’ve been perfectly nice. A perfectly nice girl who picked up guys in bars.
“I was so excited to see you here tonight.” She gazed up at me through her lashes. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I had the biggest crush on you when we were in high school.”
“You did?” Now I felt even worse that I couldn’t remember her at all.
“Yup. Not that I ever did anything about it, because you didn’t see any other girl but . . . what was her name? Amy? Addy? It was like the rest of us were invisible.”
“Ali.” I said her name softly, but almost as though she could hear me over the ear-splitting volume of the music, her eyes met mine across the dance floor. They flickered to Shayna’s face, down to my hands on the other girl’s ass and then back to me. Although she was still smiling at Trent, it didn’t reach her eyes, which were solemn and almost sad.
“That’s right. She got married right after graduation, didn’t she? To some other guy in your class. I remember we were all shocked. Like, we all totally thought you guys were going to end up together, and then you’re gone and she’s married to someone else. Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?”
Truer words. “Yeah, it is. Hey, you want another drink? All this dancing’s making me thirsty.”
Shayna beamed up at me. “I’d love that.” She clung to my arm as we pushed back toward the bar. “This is just a dream come true. It’s like in a book, you know? When the girl finally gets to hook up with the guy she’s crushed on for years?”
Shit. I plunged ahead, my focus on the bar. Once we reached it, I ordered Shayna another beer. “And another double of tequila for me.” I searched for any sign of Alex, guilty that I’d abandoned him. Finally I spied him at a table with Meghan and Sam. Well, at least he wasn’t alone. They seemed to be absorbed in their conversation, though I noticed Sam never looked away from his sister, who was still dancing with Trent.
Shayna maneuvered herself to stand between my knees, and halfway through her beer, she tilted her face to mine, clearly waiting for me to kiss her. I closed my eyes and sighed.
“Shayna, look. You’re a nice person, and really pretty, but I’m just not in a place where I can, uh, pursue anything with you. I’m sorry. But I had a good time dancing.” It was the classic rejection sandwich my dad had taught me: let girls down easy by hiding it between two sets of compliments.
Apparently, though, it was too complicated for this girl. She frowned as though trying to figure out what I meant.
“You don’t have to pursue me. I’m right here.” She moved in a second time for a kiss.
I gently pushed her back. “No, what I meant was—well, I have a daughter, and right now, she’s got to be my priority. I came out tonight just to hang with my friend.” Alex, bless his perceptive heart, was wending his way back toward me. “And here he comes, so I’d better say good night and let you go have fun with someone who can really appreciate you.”
“You’re turning me down?” Disbelief colored her face. “Guys don’t turn me down.”
“Sorry.” I realized that nothing I said was going to change anything for her at this point.
“You’re an asshole.” Shayna slammed her still half-full beer onto the bar so that it sloshed over the sides and stormed away.
“Nice to see you’re still making friends and spreading sunshine.” Alex reached the bar, smirking at me. “So what’s it gonna be? Are we going to be grown-ups and head home now, at a sensible hour, when we still have at least some of our hearing? Or are we diving back into the tequila and getting stupid?”
I raised my shot. “Alex, my friend, we may be older and wiser, but we ain’t dead yet. We’re staying. Night is young, and . . .” I looked over his shoulder in Ali’s direction. She’d stopped dancing and was leaning over the table, talking to Meghan. While I watched, she skimmed one hand down her side, smoothing her dress, and then lifted that same hand to rake through her hair. I was pretty certain all the men in a twenty-foot radius were now drooling.
Ali picked up a drink from the table and drained it before she went back to the dance floor. Meghan stopped her with a hand on her arm, and I saw Ali shake it off. The room went dark, except for a spotlight on the stage as Mason introduced tonight’s act. The music started, and everyone in the bar went crazy.
“And what?” Alex poked my arm. “You were in the middle of saying something about the night being young.”
“Yeah, you know what? Doesn’t matter. We’re going to shut them down tonight. We’re going to shoot tequila until I don’t remember my name. Until I don’t remember her name.”
Alex stared at me. “Masochist much?” When I didn’t respond, he lifted his shoulders. “Fine. Your funeral, buddy. I’ll hang around for the ride. I just hope you’re prepared for the crash landing.”