The First One

by Tawdra Kandle

  “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.”

  THE SUNSHINE POURING INTO my room was going to burn me alive from the inside out. I was sure of it. Groaning, I rolled over and tried to yank the blanket up higher, to cover my head.

  “Morning, glory.” Meghan sang off-key as she opened my door. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

  “Oh, God, no. Never. I don’t want to think about food for the rest of my life. And maybe even longer.”

  “You’ll probably feel better with a little something in your stomach. And you need to eat before you can take the ibu, which I have a feeling you’re going to need sooner rather than later.”

  “Just put me out of my misery. Smother me. Hell, shoot me for all I care. Just do it fast.”

  “Sorry, sweetie, you don’t get out of it like that. You danced, now it’s time to pay the fiddler. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” The bed dipped a little as she sat on the edge. “Hangover queen right here. Or used to be. I’m reformed now, but I remember what it felt like.”

  “What was I thinking?” I moaned. “I’m too old for this shit. I’m a mom, for criminey’s sake. How can I tell Bridget not to get drunk if I can’t even do it?”

  “Ali, she’s eight years old. I think you’ve g
ot some time.”

  “Yeah, but still. I’m not a teenager anymore. I need to remember that.”

  “You’re not exactly ancient either. It’s okay to get a little crazy now and then, if you’re smart and responsible about it, which you were. So stop beating yourself up.”

  “Is Sam pissed at me?” I might’ve been almost twenty-seven, but I still hated disappointing my big brother.

  “Not at all. He’s already out in the fields¸ but he said to tell you to rest this morning and feel better.”

  I buried my face in the pillow. “Have I told you how glad I am that you’re dating my brother? He’s much nicer now that you’re around.”

  “Happy to be of service. Now I’m going to leave this tray right here, and you eat some of it, okay?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Don’t be a smartass, or I’ll put you in timeout.”

  “Hey, Meghan?” I lifted my head from the pillow just enough to call to her. “Did I dream it or . . . was Flynn singing on the bar last night?”

  Meghan paused in the doorway of my room. “Not a dream. Sadly. Bet he’s waking up in the same shape you’re in this morning. Only Sam and I kept you from making a fool out of yourself.”

  “Huh. Did he sing . . .”

  “Elvis, Tim McGraw and Hank Williams.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “You know, I was going to let you rest a little before I asked you about this, but you brought it up. Why do you think Flynn got so wasted last night?”

  I shook my head and regretted it immediately, wincing. “I don’t know. Because he could? Because Alex is in town and he wanted to hang with his friend?”

  “Because you were there, looking damn hot and dirty dancing with other guys. Alex said they’d planned just to grab a couple of drinks and have some fun, but that all went out the door—when you came in the door.”