by Louise Bay
“What were you expecting?” I asked. “Neon and cocktails? I’ll get the drinks. You find a seat.”
Some sad country song played in the background as I made my way to the bar.
Most of the stools by the L-shaped bar were taken, but I squeezed between two men and tried to get the bartender’s attention. I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself and order a cosmo, but I wasn’t sure what would be acceptable. I glanced over at Kennedy and Rose. Perhaps I should have left the drink buying to someone else. There were a million types of whiskey lined up on the wooden shelves behind the bar. I stood on tiptoes, trying to see if there were any fridges with wine in them below the rows of whiskey.
I’d have thought a place like this would have a gray-haired guy in a plaid shirt who’d eaten too many steaks serving behind the bar, but the girl was in her thirties, hot, in an androgynous kind of way, and wore a surly expression. I smiled when I caught her eye but she ignored me and continued to chat to one of the customers nearer the door. Maybe there was table service?
“Excuse me, sir,” I said to the older gentleman with a huge moustache next to me. “Is there table service, or should I just wait here?”
“Gillian!” he bellowed. “The lady wants a drink. Would you do your damn job?”
Gillian wandered over. “Calm down, Jed. I’m not taking the blame if you have another heart attack.” Gillian tucked her cloth into her apron and turned to me. “Hi,” she said, as she started lining up shot glasses in front of me.
“Hi. Do you have any white wine?” I asked, half expecting her to toss me out on my ass.
“Nope,” she said. “Whiskey. There are three of you?”
“Yes, three.” Apparently you got what you were given in this bar.
She poured out six shots of whiskey and placed them on a round metal tray. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever tasted the stuff, let alone done shots.
“Sure you can manage in those shoes?” Gillian asked, her eyebrows raised, looking like she wouldn’t mind if I fell flat on my face. She had no idea I considered these flats. I could climb the Grand Canyon in these babies.
“Thanks for your concern. I have it covered.” I picked up the tray and headed toward the pool table. At the end of the bar, Barrett slapped the guy next to him on the back and chuckled. Kennedy would be delighted that he’d had a change of heart and come back for a drink. I paused and looked more closely at his profile—his jaw, the dark stubble—my eyes tried to focus in the fuzzy light.
It wasn’t Barrett.
The jet-black hair poking out from under his cap was the same but this guy looked taller, bigger in every way. My gaze was drawn to him as if he sat in a spotlight. It wasn’t just his lack of cowboy hat that made him stand out, or his T-shirt rather than the plaid shirts filling the bar. I squinted, trying to memorize every detail of his bronzed skin, the grip of his strong hands wrapped around his beer bottle and the knowing smile that seemed to stretch statewide. He took up space, occupying a small part of this world that was made just for him, as if he was nothing like any of the other patrons of this bar, and everyone knew it. He blinked long and slow, his dark lashes framing deep brown eyes, and my tray wobbled and I glanced down to ensure the drinks were still upright. When I looked back up, the stranger nodded at whatever the person next to him had just said. He seemed confident and relaxed and so out of place at the same time.
I shivered and gripped the tray tighter. Wow, there were some good-looking men in this town.
“Over here,” Rose shouted and it shook me out of my fascination. I turned, got my bearings and strode toward my friends, trying to shake off the feeling that maybe the guy at the bar was watching me and that perhaps I wanted him to be.
We raised our glasses and threw back our shots. The whiskey was bitter and soft at the same time. I screwed up my face like I was sucking on a lemon.
“Wow, that’s strong,” Rose said. I nodded, the taste still in my mouth. “But we need to get a little drunk to get a little laid.”
I shook my head. “I’m not getting a little or a lot laid.” I glanced back at the bar, drawn to the profile of the tall, dark stranger. “You know that’s not my M.O.”
“And how’s that M.O. working out for you, Mac?” Kennedy asked. “Isn’t that the whole reason you’re here? To switch things up?”
“Yes and I’m sure to be learning a lot in the next few days.” I wondered what exactly we would be doing. Brianna was a psychologist, so maybe there would be classes?
“Nothing to stop you from starting now.” Kennedy handed me my second shot. “You’re in the middle of nowhere. This is the perfect place for a one-night stand. We’re here for five days and we’ll never be back. You’ll never run into them again and your mom will never know.” She glanced over my shoulder and winked. I turned and saw the object of her attention. A tall, blond guy holding a pool cue. I wasn’t sure if it was the man or the pool she was interested in. Everything was just so easy for Kennedy. She wanted sex so she found a man and fucked him. I’d had a couple of casual relationships in college, but since then I had a boyfriend-only policy when it came to sex.
“You are single,” Rose said. “And it might help you get over Phil. It’s been weeks.”
I glanced at the bar again. There was something about the stranger I’d seen that meant I wasn’t dismissing the possibility of a one-night stand, despite what I was saying to my friends. I wanted to know more about him, hear his voice, feel his breath on my neck. Could it be good for me? Could I justify it as therapy? The start of Love Rehab?
I threw back my second shot; it went down more smoothly than the first. “How about I try to change the music, get us some more shots and scan the bar for a possibility of talking to a man? It’s my final offer.” I tilted my head to one side.
“Jeez, you drive a hard bargain,” Kennedy said. “But okay. And in the meantime, I’ll introduce us to these guys, get us playing some pool and see which one you’re going to hook up with.” Kennedy was the most tenacious person I met. But she also made a lot of sense. If I wanted a one-night stand, this was the place to do it. In the middle of nowhere, where I had no expectation about what would happen afterward and where no one knew me. And that guy at the bar . . . A conversation with him wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Three
Blake
Christie, Oklahoma. It was always where I ended up. Though I grew up here, and my parents and brothers still lived here, it didn’t feel like home anymore. My life now was so removed from the ranch that every now and then I found it difficult to remember my childhood—at least until I came back. And I always came back. Sometimes it was for celebrations—birthdays and the holidays. Other times to heal—from a broken heart or when my grandma died. This time it was because I had a decision to make.
I breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of wood and stale beer as I entered Jimmy’s to meet my brother. The bar hadn’t changed in the slightest since my mother had sent us here as kids to collect our Dad on Sunday nights—a day consisting of the holy trinity of church, family and friends. The faces got a little more ragged and new ones appeared every year, but coming back always felt like slipping on an old pair of boots I’d found at the back of the closet.
I slid onto the worn barstool next to Bentley, picked up the beer my brother had ordered for me and tapped the bottle against his. “Thanks, little brother.”
“You’re welcome. You being in town’s a special occasion.”
When I’d first moved to Oklahoma City after college, I’d always assumed I’d come back most weekends, but these days work was demanding, I had a social life and, until recently, a girlfriend who kept me busy. So I spent less and less time in Christie. Being back here was comforting, despite the ribbing from Bentley.
“So what brings you home? You break up with that hot piece of ass again?” Bentley asked.
“Jesus, Bentley. Don’t refer to my ex-girlfriend as a piece of ass.”
“I didn’t. I said she was a hot pie
ce of ass.” As he spoke to me, he winked at someone across the room. No doubt at a hot piece of ass.
“I have no idea how any girl is fool enough to date you.” My brother had always had plenty of female attention. Frankly, none of the McKenna boys did badly. We’d done well in the genetic lottery, or so I’d been told.
“I don’t date women. I show them a good time. Anyway, this isn’t about me. Talk to your little brother. Is this trip about a woman?”
“I don’t just come home when I break up with someone.”
“No, you also come home on the holidays. It’s not Christmas, so it must be about a girl.”
I took a swig of my beer. “Just got things on my mind, decisions to make. I needed a bit of Christie air.”
“A bit of Christie ass wouldn’t go amiss, I bet.” Bentley scanned the bar. “What about Julie?”
“I didn’t come here to hook up.” I had a decision to make between work and family, reality and a possibility—between Oklahoma and Boston. Back home, where every ambition I’d ever had took root, seemed to be the right place to come.
But Bentley was right, my dick was in need of attention. I’d fucked a couple of women since Stacey, and it just hadn’t been enough. Maybe I had a low boredom threshold, but I wasn’t looking for another faceless fuck. I had too much career stuff to start thinking about women. But it would probably mean I’d end up with callouses on my right hand the way I was going.
“So confide in your little brother. It’s not just Brianna that dishes out life advice around here.” Bentley twisted in his seat so he was almost facing me.
I drew circles on the bar with my beer bottle, the drag of glass against woodgrain almost soothing. “Just had a job offer is all. Need to do some thinking.”
“An offer here in Christie?” His eyes shot up.
Why would he think that I’d been offered a job here in Christie? Christie was many things, but a center of biochemistry it wasn’t. “No, not in Christie. A food company wants to fund my start-up—my own business.”
“Hell, that sounds impressive. So, if it’s your own business then you can run it from where you like, so you could come back home.”
I sighed, held my still-cold bottle to my lips and tipped my head back. Coming back to Christie wasn’t an option for me. Bentley wasn’t the only one in my family who didn’t get that. It was why I wasn’t here to get his take on things. I just wanted a beer and to hang out with my little brother. Take the pressure off. “They want me on the East Coast. It’s their money, so they make the rules.”
“Doesn’t sound much like your own business to me,” he said as he leaned back on his stool. “Having you back here in Christie would be awesome.” I patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Think of all the tail we could chase.” I’d mistaken his sentiment and I rolled my eyes, taking another swig of my beer.
“I’m just sayin’, Oklahoma City is far enough away, why would you want to go up north?” I had just been offered a promotion at the place I’d worked since college. Choosing between Oklahoma or the start-up felt as if I would be giving up something really good either way. But a business of my own? Hadn’t that always been the dream?
“It’s a pretty sweet offer,” I replied.
“Nothing’s as sweet as this great state. I mean it. What more could you want? Bet you don’t get these big skies up north, or ass that fine.” He gestured toward a group of girls by the pool table. Didn’t he see they were city girls? I guess he’d never spent enough time in the city to realize. Bentley was the only one of us that hadn’t gone to college. He’d never wanted anything more than what Christie and our family ranch had to offer. At times, I was envious at how easy it had been for him; he’d kind of slipped into adulthood without so much as a scratch. He’d graduated from high school one day and started full time on the ranch the next morning. And he was happy as a clam.
If only my life could be that simple.
Bentley’s cell buzzed on the bar. “Speaking of a hot piece of ass.” Bentley grinned as he picked up his phone and headed outside.
“Gillian,” I called and raised up my beer bottle to get another drink. I should really keep a clear head, but I needed another beer to deal with the thought of spending the next few days being bossed around by my sister. Great with advice, Brianna’d told me that if I wanted to talk, I’d have to help out on the ranch, camping with her and some friends. That I could handle, maybe.
As the music turned to something up-tempo, I twisted in my seat to check out the reason for the change. A redhead in skin-tight jeans poured over Jimmy’s jukebox. Looking at her more closely, I could tell she was definitely part of the group of city girls by the pool table. I was sure I’d remember an ass like that, and she had a gloss about her—the shiny hair, the designer clothes—that you didn’t see much of in Christie.
Red flung her arms in the air when the next song started to play. Lady Gaga? I was going to have to have a word with Jimmy, out-of-towners or not. She threw her head back, laughing, and the curve of her neck had me mesmerized as I imagined running my hot fingers over the cool alabaster white of her skin. Her hair fell over her shoulders and I dragged my eyes down to her hips that swayed one way and then the other, almost begging me to grab on and hold tight. I took a swig of my beer in an effort to break the spell her body was casting, but I continued to watch as Red bounced over to the pool table to join her friends and threw back a shot. She licked her lips free of whiskey before I could offer to do it for her. She was in a better mood than I was, but watching her I couldn’t stop myself from grinning—like she was infecting me with her energy. I took another gulp of beer, enjoying the warmth that flooded my limbs. I should turn away, take the opportunity to mentally assess my options while Bentley was gone but I just couldn’t stop staring.
Red and her two friends chatted to some guys I recognized from two towns over, who were clearly liking their chances. Groans followed by high fives from the pool table suggested the end of a game. Would Red play next? I’d enjoy watching her bent over the table. Part of me wanted to go over and ask for a game, introduce myself, but I needed to keep my focus—I was in Christie for a reason and that reason wasn’t Red.
She took a cue from one of the guys, tightly wrapping her hand around the middle and cocking out her hip, emphasizing her small waist. Her jeans looked like they’d been sprayed on and images of me peeling them off, revealing more of that smooth white skin, flashed through my head. Some women always acted as if they had an audience—they understood the power their body had and ensured when they were in a room, everyone was looking at them. But Red wasn’t being deliberately flirtatious or sexy. She seemed not to see the attention she was attracting and that just made her all the more appealing.
Maybe a little distraction might take my mind off deciding the direction of the rest of my life.
I was about to stand when Red threw a look over her shoulder and met my stare as if she’d felt me looking at her. With that single glance, I knew I had to speak to her. I nodded, and lifted my bottle. She turned and headed toward me. Next thing I knew, I could feel the heat rolling off her hot body as she settled in next to me, smiling as she leaned over the polished-wood bar. She raised her hand to get Gillian’s attention.
“I don’t think she likes me much,” Red said, twisting to face me.
The pulse in my neck quickened and, across my body, my muscles tensed. She was gorgeous, even more so close up. Her skin was pale, as if it’d never seen the sun. Her light green eyes held a thousand secrets and I wanted to know every one. Dark red hair fell in waves across her shoulders and down her back. I gripped my beer bottle tighter to stop myself from sliding my palm under her shirt and over that perfect skin.
“Don’t take it personally,” I replied. “Gillian, can I get a drink?” I bellowed down the bar. “What can I get you?” I asked Red, trailing my gaze from those beautiful eyes to her full, pouty lips, then down to the milky white of her chest and back up.
“I’m getting a
few drinks for me and my girlfriends.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the pool table with her thumb.
“So, what can I get y’all?”
She laughed completely unselfconsciously and I felt my cheeks heat. Was she laughing at me? With a smile that pretty, I’d probably forgive her this once, perhaps make her pay when I got her naked.
“You don’t have the accent for y’all. You not from around here?”
“Born and raised. Lost my twang in college.” I’d always denied it, but after a semester at Harvard I’d buried the accent so people would stop making assumptions. Even after I’d dropped out and transferred to UT Austin, I’d never let my accent return. I hadn’t been long at Harvard but it had left its mark.
“So you’re a cowboy at heart, despite your hat?” She tugged at the bill of my cap and I caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like the city. And lilac.
“It’s in my blood.” That’s what Barrett kept telling me anyway. He’d never understood why I hadn’t moved back to Christie after college. My siblings would probably spend the rest of their days in this town. After college I’d had job offers all over the country, including Massachusetts, despite not graduating from Harvard. The Northeast was full of companies wanting to employ biochemistry graduates, but a job in Oklahoma City had kept me closer to home.
“More whiskey?” Gillian asked. Red nodded and held up six fingers.
“Put that on my tab,” I said as Gillian lined up shot glasses on a tray.
“I’m Blake,” I said, as Gillian filled the last glass. I wasn’t quite ready for Red to wander off with her tray and back to the Langley guys. I wanted to look at her some more, talk to her some more, maybe lick some whiskey off those full red lips. Yup, there was a definite reaction in my pants to that mouth.
She smiled and cocked her head. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Uncowboy. I’m Mackenzie.”
