Page 109 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

“Pretty sure she meant it as an insult.”

He doesn’t hear me. Or chooses not to. He raises his glass in Iris’s direction, though she isn’t paying him the slightest bit of attention. I shake my head and leave him to it. Don’t have it in me to even attempt to tame his expectations tonight, not when every bit of the energy I’ve got is being spent being here and pretending that I’m fine. I’m not fine.

Jae is working the stage end to end like it's some rodeo fashion show. The cocky bastard. He rakes his fingers through that pitch-black hair of his, that somehow always looks clean and sleek even after getting off a bull. His Korean genes gave him sharp cheekbones and dark eyes, making him look more delicate than the rest of us cowboys. The crowd seems to love it though, as he drops a wink toward the women at the front, making them lose their minds. Jae is eating up every goddamn moment. Thumbs now hooked in his belt loops, turning around and looking back over his shoulder with a grin. Poser.

Bids are climbing faster now, women talking over each other, all eager for a chance to win a date with the next bull riding champion. Gina just lets it run, standing there in her sky-high heels, all dressed up in a little black dress that shows off her long legs. Making her mark as the new owner of The Lone Coyote.

The rumour mill had been running for days, whispers in town about a new owner taking over from Tess, who has packed up to go see if country bars are wanted in the cities. I didn’t know the new owner was her until Naomi announced it. “Business venture”, that's what she said at the rodeo. I’d assumed she meant the trailer park out back that nobody bothers with anymore, considering that’s all she’s been left with. Never thought it would be this place, and as much as I hate to say it, it looks great. She’s done something really good here.

Which means I’d better brace myself for Gino showing his face. He has always had a way of sniffing out where the money is. I’ve been on the lookout since the rodeo show, scanning crowds wherever I go, waiting for him to show his face. I just know it’s going to be soon. But that’s a problem for another day. I’ve got enough to get through this coming week without adding that bastard in the mix.

“Do I hear one-eighty? Come on ladies, look at him—”

The bids climb. Two hundred. Two-twenty. Two-fifty from a woman near the stage who looks like she'll fight someone over it.

“Two-seventy-five!” Gina raises her arm in the air. Half the room turns, confused. And that half a second of hesitation is all she needs to close the bid. Making her the winner.

“Sorry, girls.” Sounding anything but. “This one's mine.” There’s a smile that crosses her face, aimed at Jae with a flirtatious fire behind it.

The crowd groans and laughs in equal measures. Jae is beaming. Absolutely stunned, looking at Gina like she is some sort of goddess that has blessed his existence. Don't think he knows what he is getting himself into, in my opinion. But that’snone of my business.

Gina waves him off the stage with a flick of her wrist. He obeys without a second thought.

She shuffles the papers in her hands, scans the bar for the next name on her list. “Next up,” she starts, an amused smirk forming. Her eyes land on me, “is Wade Carter. Your stereotype of a cowboy dream, ladies.”

The bar erupts.

What. The. Fuck.

How the hell did my name get put down for this shit? My brain is rattling, ears ringing from the cheers, when my eyes cut straight to Maeve.

She’s already looking at me. Both hands covering her mouth, eyes wide. She drops her hands, her plump lips now on show, moving so clearly that I can practically hear her from across the room.

Sorry.

This woman. This mischievous, impossible, fucking beautiful angel.

I set my glass down very slowly. Practically everyone has now found me, turning one by one. If I sit here a second longer, I'm going to be a world's class dickhead. So, I go.

Push back from the bar, roll my shoulders, and walk up to that stage like it was always the plan.

I stand there, and the noise hits me different from up here. Louder. More of it. Women hollering from every corner of the room. I keep my face neutral because that's all I know how to do, arms loose at my sides, jaw set. I feel like a fence post someone's shoved into the middle of a dance floor.

My eyes find Maeve.

She's got both hands over her mouth now. Shoulders shaking. She's laughing. And Naomi's right there beside her doing the same. Despite every reasonable feeling I ought to be having right now—embarrassment, irritation, the strong desire to have a very particular conversation with Maeve about the meaning of being sorry—I feel that familiar pull that comes when I see her happy.

Gina’s saying something, causing me to force my attention away from Maeve. Several eyes are staring at me, and I give them a slow half-smile that probably looks more like I am constipated than anything charming, but the bids come from all corners of the room. Clearly, they don’t care for my stiff and constipated-looking performance.

The idea of going on a date with any of these women makes my blood boil. It should be her. It should be my angel.

But it can’t.

My eyes find their way back to her, like they always tend to do. Then, a number cuts through the room so loudly that the bidding chatter dies instantly, heads turning to see who came with such a big purse.

I look up.

Blonde hair. Bob cut. The shape of a face I know better than I ever wanted to, gaunt in a way it wasn't before, makeup laid on thick over hollowed cheeks.