The Saddle Up Saloon is packed to the rafters when we arrive for drinks. What started off as dinner out for six of us turns into drinks for the entire firefighting team. Whenever that happens, half of the single ladies in town converge on the place to make goo-goo eyes with the guys. This is why going out with these guys is a bad idea to begin with. Complete strangers get to flirt with them and touch them, and I can’t even look without drawing attention to myself. It’s almost standing room only, but Rosa-Lee, Vicky and I find an empty table after an older couple finishes their meal and leave.

Our spot is far enough away from the guys for us to talk without being heard over the country western music blaring through the sound system.

Vicky and Rosa-Lee do the talking.

Rosa-Lee and I do the drinking.

And I more or less do all the blushing and averting my eyes.

Heat has permanently risen to my cheeks for one reason. Whenever Rosa-Lee and Vicky get together, trouble follows. At the moment, they’re going back and forth with the firefighter innuendo while smiling innocently at the very same firefighters they’re making fun of.

“Hose before bros,” Vicky chortles.

“Come slide down my pole,” Rosa-Lee retorts.

Vicky comes back with, “I’d prefer to climb down your ladder, babe.”

“He found me hot and he left me wet.”

“For his full-frontal assault!” Vicky giggles. “Cuz pappy can’t control the hose on his own!”

“That’s one hell of a pumper.”

“Scream for me, baby. Just like the siren.”

“Oh girl, you’re hotter than a five-alarm fire. I’ve got just the thing to hose you down.”

I’m all but ready to lift my hands to my ears to block them out when they start to sing the firefighter version of ‘Do your ears hang low’, which goes like:

Does your hose hang low?

Do you swing it to and fro?

Can you twist it in a knot?

Can you wrap it like a bow?

Do you hang it over your shoulder?

Can it wrap around a boulder?

Does your hose hang low?

Does your hose rise high?

Can it raise up to the sky?

Does it shrivel when it's wet?

Does it harden when it's dry?

Can you wave it at your neighbor?

Do you use it as a saber?

Does your hose rise high?

By the third verse, they hit bottom and replace the word ‘hose’ with ‘junk’. I decide it’s time to extricate myself from our table. Thank God my bladder has a limit on how much beer it can hold.

“Health break! Be back in a minute,” I announce and slide out of my chair to go to the restroom.

“I’ll come with you,” Vicky says, bringing their merriment to an abrupt end.

“You’re both brave, leaving me with all these men,” Rosa-Lee replies. It sounds a hundred miles away, though. In just a few seconds I make it all the way to the back hallway. I push the bathroom’s swinging door open and drop my purse on the counter. Vicky bursts in behind me, her eyes wide.

“Come on. It’s confession time.”

I look at her in the mirror. “Sorry, what?”

Her eyes narrow and she takes a step toward me. “Something’s going on with you and Hammer…or you and Deuce. I want details.”

I turn from the mirror to look straight at her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Her lips twist up into a cunning smile. “Are two of you a thing? You can tell me if you’re seeing one of them.”

“I’m not, Vicky. Honestly.”

I haven’t lied so far. Not really. All my answers are accurate, more or less. I’m not seeing either of them. We’re not a thing. She doesn’t have to know that I’ve been with both of them. At the same time.

But if I stick around long enough, either she’ll figure it out by herself, or Rosa-Lee will have too much alcohol in her to deny what she knows. Either way, it’s time for me to leave.

She rests a hand on her hip. “Okay. I don’t believe you, but okay.”

“Why would you think I’d sneak around with either of them?”

She lifts a shoulder. “It’s the way you get whenever either of them looks over at our table.” She grins. “Like you can’t wait to get out of here and rip each other’s clothes off.”

I turn back towards the mirror and dig my lip gloss out of my purse. It’s a good excuse for avoiding Vicky’s gaze. She’s dead right, and if I give her any more time to read my body language, she’ll probably hit a second bullseye without meaning to.

She turns and leans against the sink next to me. “Give it time. My money’s on the two of them duking it out over you.”

I can’t stop my eyes from whipping up to meet hers, but I keep my mouth shut and focus on my reflection again as I apply my pink gloss.

“You’re such a good girl,” she sighs, deflated that I won’t encourage her.

I nod. “Yeah.” Dropping the lip gloss back in my purse, I zip it shut with more force than necessary. “I can’t be any other way with my dad’s men.”

“Which one would you try out if you had the chance?”

Answering that question would be walking into a trap. Since I have no future with either one of these guys, I’m not going to bother. I’ve already done too much damage tonight. I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve without knowing it. I’m not going to sabotage myself and admit anything.

I shrug, and she pushes herself off the sink. “I’m going back out there. You coming?”

“In a second. I want to touch up my mascara.”

“Okay, doll.” She glides through the door and out into the hallway. I’m left staring at the mirror, wondering why I bothered coming out.

“God,” I hiss.

I clutch the edges of the sink and chew on my lip. The situation is painfully ironic. There are thousands of people in this city, and yet the two hottest men are living and working close enough to touch every goddamned day—and they’re completely off-limits.

Snatching up my purse, I push the bathroom door open and head straight for the exit. Once I’m in my car, I start to write a text to Rosa-Lee, letting her know it’s time to go. She knocks on the passenger window before I can hit send, and jumps inside.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before the three of you start dry-humping each other.”

“Was I that obvious?”

“God, yes.”

I smile and start the car. That’s what besties are for.