Tequila & Tailgates (A Country Road Novel - Book 2)

by Andrea Johnston

  “Nothing, maybe low blood sugar or something.”

  For the next few minutes I listen as Ashton blatantly ignores my question and tells me about shopping with Piper all afternoon. I’m able to listen to her and calm down my dick that, by the way it’s reacting to Ashton, is a teenager again. Once my food is ready, I take the seat next to Ashton at the island.

  “I get now why my brother said she was driving him nuts. Fourteen different shades of cream, J. Fourteen. Did you have any idea that was possible? I certainly didn’t. “

  A few grunts in response and Ashton continues to vent about Piper’s inability to choose fixtures. We both finish our food and she stands to take my plate for me.

  “Thanks. So, you never answered my question earlier.”

  Ashton twists her face, obviously attempting to figure out which question I’m referring to. Resuming her spot next to me, she rests her head on her hand, winding a strand of hair from her ponytail around her finger while looking at me. She’s assessing as if the question is written somewhere on my face.

  “Help me out. What question?”

  “Where are you going tonight?”

  Instantly sitting up straight, she turns so she’s no longer facing me. I note the rigid form she’s taken. Brr, it’s suddenly dropped a few degrees in this room.

  “Out. And wouldn’t you know it, I’m running late,” she rushes as she stands, almost knocking the stool over. Righting the stool, Ashton walks out of the room. Oh hell no. What was that about?

  “Hey,” I call after her as she reaches to open the front door, purse on her shoulder and key in hand. “I don’t have anything going on. How about I come with?”

  “I don’t think so. Why don’t you call the guys and head out to the Road? I’ll see ya.”

  Choosing to not follow her, I let Ashton walk out the door. Standing there like some lovelorn teenager, I watch her reverse out of the driveway, her headlights shining into the house.

  Fuck that. Without a second thought, I grab my keys, close the door, and hop in my truck.

  Yep, I’m officially a stalker. And I think I’m okay with that.

  When I received the call from Ben that a tree had fallen onto his parents’ house, my first instinct was to ask about Ashton. Not the house. Not his parents. Nope, Ashton. I didn’t think too much about it. Maybe my reason for that was because I knew it meant something. Maybe it was because I knew if I acknowledged it then I would feel the need to talk about it. I’d need to figure out why I cared. This woman has barely tolerated me for years. Her attitude toward me and her snide comments have been almost as much a part of my life as my business, my home, or my truck.

  Contentious. That’s what people say our relationship is. We don’t get along and whether we like each other is debatable. But, we’re family. Our history bonds us. I used that history as justification for following her last week. Like some creepy dude in a really bad Lifetime movie, I followed her. Which, by the way, is really hard to do when you’re the only two cars on the road.

  Sitting in the parking lot of a bar called Doris’s Tavern for three hours, I realized she wasn’t coming out. I also knew that if she was in a place like that for hours and driving, she wasn’t drinking. What I didn’t know was why she was there. A date? A second job? The rational part of my brain convinced the irrational part to throw in the stalker towel at the top of the third hour and I went home. And, I never told Ashton I followed her.

  Now, I sit here on her next night off wondering if she’s going back. Is that where she goes? Is she so hard up to move out of here that she is working seven nights a week to make extra money? That makes me feel like shit.

  And it pisses me the fuck off. That’s some bullshit. I’ve been cool with her. Yeah, I’ve flirted a little, but that’s who I am. Plus she’s hot as fuck and gets me going. I can’t help myself. The way she prances around here in shorts. Bending over and shit. Yeah so, she’s bending over to pick up laundry or vacuum but still … bending over.

  I’ve avoided her for a week. Rising before the sun and in the office, I’ve thrown myself into work. Or avoidance. Something switched for me the night I followed Ashton. I care about this girl. I want to know where she is and who she’s with. I need to know that she’s safe, that someone is looking out for her, and, more importantly, that she’s smiling and laughing. That is always my last thought. Is Ashton laughing? That horrible laugh. Thinking of her laughing makes me laugh.

  Powering up my computer, I first check my email and note thirteen responses to the ads Ashton posted. Huh, maybe she was right. A quick glance at the clock confirms I don’t have time to begin reading these. My day is full with appraisals and walkthroughs with clients. Plus, I have to meet with the engineer at the Sullivan’s. Maybe I should invite Ashton along to see how things are going at her house.

  As I’m about to take the first sip of my third cup of coffee, Owen barrels through the door. Further assessment leads to more of a stumble than a barreling.

  “Rough night?”

  Grumbles and a few cuss words later, he sits down in the chair across from my desk as I take my own seat.

  “Man, don’t tell me we’re getting too old for this shit.”

  “What’s that? Partying on weekdays? Okay, I won’t.”

  “Nah, man, the partying isn’t the problem. It’s the fucking all night that’s the problem.”

  Sputtering my coffee, it takes me a full minute to compose myself.

  “Sorry, what? You fucked too much and now you can’t walk? What was her name?”

  “Their.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Their names. Besties!” The besties part is spoken in what is probably the most annoying high-pitched fake voice I’ve ever heard.

  “Please never speak like that again. Really, man? Two?” As he nods in confirmation I can only shake my head. Yeah, we’re too old for this shit.

  Once I’ve confirmed I have no desire to hear the in-depth replay of Owen’s night, we get some work done. After an hour or so, the door to the office opens and a pair of legs I’ve grown accustomed to thinking about step across the threshold.

  “Well, if it isn’t Miss Ashton Sullivan. What brings you out during the day? Aren’t you afraid the sun will melt you?”

  “It’s ‘turn me to dust’, asshole. Shut up, Owen.”

  “Sassy, I like it. Come on, Ash, go out with me. Ben will be fine with it, he knows I’m a good guy.”

  It’s my turn to grumble. The curses are barely heard as Ashton unleashes her sarcasm and snark that’s usually directed at me toward Owen. Poor bastard. I sit back and let these two spar. This show is better than any UFC match.

  “Ya about done, you two?”

  Nodding, Ashton steps toward my desk and punches Owen’s arm. When he reaches out and smacks her ass, I see red. Literally. I’ve always thought when rage came on it would be solid black. Nope, red.

  “Jesus, Owen, if you’re going to smack it, at least make it worth my while.”

  Ashton teases. This is how our friendships are. We argue and pick like family and then tease. I know Owen and Ashton throw jabs back and forth, hell, I’ve been that way with her for years. Only, seeing it happen this morning unleashes some sort of beastly reaction I wasn’t expecting. I could pummel Owen, one of my very best friends, and be completely fine with that.

  What the fuck is that about?

  “Anyway, like I would have said if someone wasn’t such an asshat, you left this at home.”

  Turning my gaze from murderous and directed at Owen to Ashton, I look at her extended hand. My phone.

  “Where was this?”

  “Kitchen. I’m not sure what ringtone you have for your notifications but it’s awful and should be banned from the world. Especially before nine in the morning.”

  “Sorry, I have to set the most annoying tones or I just tune them out. You didn’t have to bring this by.”

  Shrugging, she pushes Owen’s feet off the second chair across from my des
k and sits down.

  “It’s okay, I was up. Unfortunately, I was also pouring a cup of coffee when it went off and scared the shit out of me. We’re down a coffee cup.”

  “Wow.”

  Both turning to Owen, he smiles and waves his hand between Ashton and me.

  “How domestic.”

  A chorus of “screw yous” and “fuck yous” are spewed his direction, only drawing a roar of laughter from him. His laughter is contagious and it’s only seconds before Ashton and I are joining him.

  “Whatever, I was being nice,” she huffs, crossing her arms like a child, pout included.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. The notification was probably my email. I’ve got about a dozen responses to those ads you placed. Now if only I had the time to sort through them.”

  Relaxing from her current position, Ashton smiles, and if I was a sentimental guy I’d say the sun just started shining.

  Good thing I’m not that guy.

  “You are both boring me. I’m out of here, heading out for the day,” Owen declares before leaving the office.

  Seconds tick by. Neither Ashton nor I speak. It’s starting to get awkward when we both start to speak at the same time.

  “So, uh…”

  “Did you really get…”

  Laughing, I motion for her to go first.

  “Did you really get that many responses?”

  “There’s quite a few. I mean, I didn’t count them or anything. I’ll probably start sorting through them tonight.”

  “I could do it if you want.”

  “Nah, I’m sure you have shit to do. It’ll wait.”

  “Of course it will, you’ll just put it off. Come on, let me help. We’ll consider it trade in lieu of rent.”

  “You’re right, I’ll just put it off. Okay, if you’re sure.” Rising, I pull my chair out a little and motion for her to take the spot.

  “While you’re doing that, I’ll run out to your folks’ house and check on it. Unless … I mean, if you wanted to go with me first.”

  “To my house? With the tree?”

  “Well, the tree is gone but yeah. Come on.” Motioning with my head toward the door, I see the idea bounce around in her head. “Ash, it’s not a big deal. Come or don’t.”

  “If you’re sure I won’t be in the way. Do you think I can get in my room? I could go for getting a few of my things if so.”

  “We moved everything out of your room and into the garage but sure, whatever. I’ll just give you my email login information and you can look over those resumes later. Cool?”

  “Cool.” The smile she gives me in response hits me hard. It’s sincere and appreciative.

  After showing Ashton the changes we’re making to the house and how much work has been done to her room, I leave her with her belongings in the garage while I finish a few things. When I told Patty, Ashton’s mom, that we would need to add on at least four to six weeks for the additional work she requested, I was hopeful I had overestimated that. Unfortunately, I don’t think that is the case. If anything, we may be pushing it. Delays are normal in construction but this time it’s as if the cards are stacked against us. I’m just glad my second parents are the clients.

  Two hours, a box of miscellaneous items, and a large mirror later, I’m pulling up in front of my house with Ashton. She’s been talking non-stop since we left her house. I can’t even piece together half of the stuff she’s saying so silence is my best option.

  “And, then there was this bachelorette party. I mean I get it, you want the attention on you. Whatever. But, do you really have to wear a blinking tiara? Blinking, Jameson. It was ridiculous.”

  “Uh-huh.” I started to respond to her stories earlier but never managed more than a few words, so I’ve given up on the idea.

  “Why do you think my mom wants to do all of this work now? I mean, she’s never said anything. Oh, do you think it’s like a mid-life crisis thing? But it can’t be. I don’t know, I just wonder why they suddenly need a massive closet. We both know my mom isn’t exactly fashion forward or anything…”

  I’m not even going to respond with a grumble, it’ll go unheard anyway.

  Once we’ve unloaded everything and put it in her room, I follow her into the kitchen. Pulling out what she needs for sandwiches, I sit and watch as she makes us lunch, never once pausing her story. I have no idea what she’s even talking about other than how she ran into an old roommate at the store and it was awkward. Instead of listening, I’m watching.

  Ashton is dressed in her usual cut-off shorts, but when we got home she was dusty and took off the shirt she was wearing. Now she’s standing in the kitchen in cut-off shorts and a tight tank that stretches across her chest, making it difficult to read the words. If I didn’t know the Country Road logo I wouldn’t know that’s what it said. Did I mention it’s tight fitting?

  Her long hair is tossed up into a messy bun on top of her head and her face is free of any makeup. Her hands fly around as she talks, a knife in one hand and a piece of cheese in the other. The occasional snort as she laughs at herself makes me smile

  At what point in this roommate thing did I start to see her differently? Sure, I’ve always been attracted to her. We all have.

  She’s beautiful. And hilarious. Stubborn as hell. But, she’s always been Ben’s little sister and that’s a big no-no in life. Plus, the two times I’ve ignored that unspoken rule, I’ve ended up without her.

  Once she’s done with the sandwiches, we are able to sit down and have an actual conversation. Talking about more of nothing and a little of everything. It was … well, natural. And nice to be friends. To hang out with the old Ashton, the version of her before the name calling and before the secrets.

  “Thanks for making lunch. I should probably go back to the office for a few hours. I’ve been gone too long as it is,” I say, standing to take my plate to the sink.

  “Oh wow, I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry if I kept you. I’ll do that, you don’t have wash your plate.”

  “Thanks. And, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

  “I’ll start looking over those resumes while you’re gone. I’m not working tonight so I can probably get through them all.”

  I pull a can of soda from the fridge before turning back to her. “You know, if you really want to help me, you could just handle the interviews and hire someone.”

  “I could…” Stopping before she says anything else, Ashton stands tall, pushing her shoulders back. I notice a change in her expression and her voice is less happy and now laced with a bit of sadness. “I don’t think so. I’ll help sort out the candidates but that’s about it. I’ll see you later,” she says as she turns to walk out of the kitchen.

  “Okay, well I appreciate your help regardless.” I finish wiping off the counter and wonder what just happened to change the mood so quickly.

  After sitting at my desk for two hours staring at the same numbers, I realize this day is shot. My mind keeps going back to my conversation with Ashton in the kitchen. I’m not sure what is bothering me but I have a feeling we just took three huge steps backwards in the friendship status of our relationship.

  Screw that, I like being friends.

  Me: How’s it going?

  Ashton: It’s good. You agree a candidate should be able to utilize spell check, right?

  Me: I kind of assumed that was a given.

  Ashton: Apparently not.

  Me: Do you have plans tonight?

  Ashton: Just laundry and maybe a really cheesy movie. Why? Do you need me to be gone or something?

  Me: No. Want to grab some dinner out? My treat.

  Ashton: Why?

  Me: Why?

  Ashton: Why do you want to treat?

  Me: I’d like to take my friend out for dinner and whatever as a thank you. Just say yes.

  Ashton: I don’t know. Now you’ve thrown in ‘whatever’. What constitutes a whatever?

  Me: What do you want it to constitute?<
br />
  Ashton: You better not be trying to flirt with me, Manwhore.

  Me: There’s your pass. You’re all out. No more use of that name.

  Ashton: Doesn’t count. I’m not speaking. Text is a wash.

  Me: Let me guess, you’re sitting at the dining table, wearing those too short shorts, your purple knee high socks ON my table, your hair piled on your head, and actually saying the words as you type them.

  Ashton: You’re a creep if you are watching me.

  Ashton: OMG! Do you have cameras here? That’s gross. No more Manwhore status, you’re a perv!

  Me: Wow this conversation has taken a turn. How did I go from flirting to perv status in 2.2 seconds?

  Ashton: It was technically 1.9 seconds but whatever ;-)

  Me: Be ready at 7. We have a date.

  Ashton: It’s not a date.

  Me: Okay.

  Ashton: IT IS NOT A DATE!

  Me: Fine, quit shouting. 7.

  Tossing my phone on the table, I realize I have a few hours of work before I have to get home to get ready. It may not be a date but it’s something. I just need to figure out what “it” is and how I deal with it.

  “Truth or dare, Sunshine?”

  “Stop calling me that. You’re an asshole, Manwhore. Don’t even tell me I can’t say that. You started with the nickname shit. And the to-kill-ya!”

  So maybe the shots weren’t the best idea. Dinner was good and the conversation better. Normal and uncomplicated, just like I prefer it. Ashton confirmed she had scheduled three interviews for me next week but said she found the perfect fit for office manager. I told her to just hire the woman, but she wants me to interview all three of the ladies and see if we make the same decision.

  I agreed.

  Reluctantly.

  When we finished dinner, I didn’t want the night to end. I know this night is a turning point for us. I’m almost certain this is the night we get our friendship back. Not knowing what else to do, we decided a few drinks wasn’t a bad idea. Without many options in town, Ashton agreed to Country Road. I think she secretly wanted to check out the new bartender Taylor hired.

  As always, by the second shot we were starting a game of Truth or Dare. So far only safe truth questions have been exchanged and a single dare. I dared Ashton to attempt to tie the stem of a cherry with her tongue. She accepted and mastered it. Of course she did.