“Yeah, it’s been fun so far,” he said. “Want to get a beer?”
“Sure,” Anita said, following him to the bar. He ordered two drinks, and they clinked glasses together with a soft, “Cheers.” She sipped the cool, golden liquid.
Tristan chuckled as she placed her beer back on the bar. “What?” she asked.
“You have a little…” he gestured to his upper lip, “beer mustache.” Anita clapped her hand to her face, feeling the soft foam below her nose. She blushed, wiping it away.
“You missed a bit,” Tristan said, gently wiping the last bit of foam from her face. His finger lingered on her lip, and Anita felt herself stepping into him until her face was inches from his. She could smell his sharp, sweet, citrus cologne.
Tristan moved his hand slowly from her cheek, his own turning a little pink. “Um, you — we should head back up to the room sometime. The roof!” he said quickly. Anita giggled and he smiled at the melodic ring of her laughter. “We never finished looking at the stars.”
“Maybe we can get out --” Anita began, but was interrupted by Jo.
“Hey guys,” she said, giving a Tristan a friendly punch on the shoulder, and swinging a familiar arm over Anita’s shoulder. “What’s the goss?”
“Ah, ranch stuff,” Tristan said. Anita smiled secretly.
“Hey, take a night off from learning about ranching. Anita will talk your ear off about those damn horses if you let her. Let’s talk politics — let’s talk fashion. Tell me about the shirt, Tristan.”
Anita rolled her eyes at Tristan and he smirked. Anita tried to give Jo a hint to leave them, but Jo seemed insistent on hanging around, quizzing Tristan on every shirt he had with him in his single backpack: “So what made you choose the ivory over eggshell; and did you ever consider stone?”
Sally was ordering another tequila. “You want one too?” she asked Nikki as she approached the bar.
“Why not?” she smiled.
“Two tequila slammers, please,” Sally asked. The two of them leaned against the bar, surveying the dance floor.
“I’m so glad he didn’t stay.”
“It’s decent of him to leave.”
“Yeah. Tonight is fun.”
“Tonight is fun,” Nikki smiled. “Plenty of… talent.” She giggled to herself, eyeing Tristan, who was talking to Jo. He really had picked up the dances very quickly.
“Ooooh, who’s got your attention, Nikki?” Sally asked.
“Who do you think?” Nikki gushed, turning to her. “Ever since Jo brought him back it’s been like living with a demi-god. Have you seen his abs? He was working shirtless in the stable yesterday, I nearly died.” Sally laughed. “I don’t know how you can sleep in the same house as him. I’d be drooling over him all night.”
“Get off it, Nikki, he’s good looking but… oh, he’s not my type,” Sally said, handing over a 20 dollar bill and sliding the two tequilas towards them.
“What, Herculean muscles and eyes the color of paradise isn’t your type? Your drink,” she said, passing Sally a shot of tequila and tossing back her own.
“You’re drinker,” Sally slurred. She gazed across the bar, where Anita was being dragged off by Jo for the next dance.
Raoul joined Tristan at the counter.
“Drink?” he asked.
“What was that, the one we had with dinner the other night? The ale.”
“Hey, John, two pale ales.”
“Thanks,” Tristan said.
“No worries. So, how’re you liking life as a country boy?”
Tristan laughed.
“Yeah, it’s great. I think my riding still needs work, though.”
“Yep.”
“Sorry?”
Raoul laughed as he passed Tristan a beer.
“Look, man, you’ve been here, what, a week? Less than that. You’re doing pretty good for an amateur.”
“Well,” Tristan said, taking a swig of the beer, “can’t be as bad as your dancing.”
Raoul stopped with the bottle halfway to his lips, then laughed.
“Fair enough.”
“So,” Tristan asked, “you and Connor are friends?”
“Not really. I mean, we shared a bunk, but I don’t really like sharing my personal space with guys, you know? We got along okay. He’s not a bad guy. Well, I didn’t think he was. He was always decent to everyone, one of those people pleasing types.”
“Looks like he’s gone through some changes.”
“Sure does. I can’t believe he’d do that to Sally.” Raoul frowned. “He used to speak about her all the time. About how well they got along, how much he loved her. What a liar.”
“You’re really protective of Sally, huh?”
Raoul shrugged, but his eyes softened at the mention of her.
“She seems very sweet,” Tristan said.
“She is. Kind, selfless, wouldn’t hurt a fly. It sucks, seeing her like this.”
The band return, and a song later Anita realized she would have to forgo her dance with Tristan. Her and Raoul ended up carrying Sally back to the truck. Similarly incapacitated, Nikki was also steered to the truck by Bella, and Jo and Tristan dutifully followed their friends. Tristan sat in the front seat between Bella and a slumped-over Nikki; Anita couldn’t help wishing it had been her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
-
Some people need coffee to wake up, or tea, or breakfast. For Tristan, the best way to wake up was with a good shower. Well, it was the second-best way, but it worked wonderfully. Still half asleep, he had grabbed his towel and stumbled past Jo’s empty room and Sally’s closed door, and all but tripped into the bathtub.
He’d talk to Anita later, he decided, as the hot water cascaded over him, streaming down his bare back and chest. He wondered what Anita might be doing now, whether she was also in the shower, perhaps thinking about him… It was the thought of her, and her hands on her body, and the way her wet hair had looked in the lake that day, and how it might look now, plastered against her warm skin. He felt a low, dangerous heat rise in him at the thought of Anita, water flowing down her sleek black hair, her back, her every curve. It was intoxicating, how the mere thought of her could raise in him such passion.
His own pleasure rose, and the edge of the world began to fade from view, and all he could think, all he could see was her.
The door swung open and banged against the wall, and Sally walked in, swaying slightly. She didn’t look tired and must have been awake in her room for a while. Her hair was wild from the previous night, and makeup had smudged around her eyes. She was still in her pajamas, laced shorts, and a loose white top. A strap had fallen astray across her upper arm, and the thin material did little to hide the soft curvature of her breasts.
She looked about for a moment in mild confusion, and then their eyes locked.
“Hey, Tristan…” Sally’s greeting trailed away as her eyes trailed down. She raised her eyebrows.
A moment’s hesitation and Tristan had grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. Sally teetered and stumbled to the bathtub, where she sat down, grasping its edge.
“Are you alright?” He sat down on the edge as well, feet still in the bath, and lifted her chin. She looked at him, and her eyes took a second to focus.
“Hey there, you,” Sally said.
“Are you alright?” He began to ask again but never finished the question. She rose up to him, one hand balanced on the edge of the tub, the other pressing down on his own, and their lips met. All he had thought of Sally’s sweet, demure disposition went up in smoke in an instant. She pressed herself against him with a ferocity almost like hunger, her hand rising from his up to his arm, his shoulder, then finding hold in his hair. Her lips were chapped from days spent riding in the wind. She tasted like sugar, like blueberry jam, and something else, something sharp, lime and liqueur. Her kiss became deeper, more desperate, and he felt the towel strain as she swung her leg over it to straddle him. Her breath became sharp and
shallow. She fumbled with the knot in the towel, and he brought his arms up around her back, pressing her smooth, soft body against his own torso.
They dipped backward over the edge of the bathtub, crashing onto the tiles in a tangle of shirt and towel and limbs. Tristan felt a stab of pain and tasted blood. He cursed, bringing his hand up to his mouth. There was a second of awkward, breathy silence before Sally quickly disentangled herself from Tristan and stood back up, face flush, legs trembling. She sat back down on the edge of the tub.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“No, no it’s not that. I bit my tongue.” Tristan stood up and removed his hand from his mouth. It came away flecked with blood. “Great,” he muttered.
He rinsed it off in the sink and spat out a mouthful of blood along with it. Turning around, he noticed Sally was still there. She pursed her lips apologetically, then gave a little cough and raised her eyebrows again.
“What?”
“Your towel,” she said pointedly. And then Tristan was scrabbling for the towel once more, and she was laughing hysterically, and before he knew it, he was too. They were caught in the moment, keeling over, sides in stitches.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated, slightly breathless. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not even the one you want.”
“What? What are you talking about?” Tristan said quickly, his usually collected manner disappearing in a flurry of stumbled words.
Sally laughed, thinking of Nikki’s admiring gaze last night. “Oh come on, you know who I’m talking about. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you two look at each other.”
Tristan thought about Anita’s deep, soulful eyes, her soft skin beneath his fingertips. “Is it that obvious?”
Sally laughed. “Yeah. Just get together already. You both obviously want to.”
“I do want to,” he murmured. “I just — we’re all living together, everyone is so close, I don’t want it to get messy, you know? Like what happened with you and Connor--” Sally bit her lip and Tristan regretted mentioning it instantly. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”
Sally shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You’re right — there’s a lot of opportunities for things to get messy when you’re all living in close quarters. I’d hate to be the cautionary tale that stops two people from being happy, though.” She stood up from the edge of the tub. “I’ll let you get dressed. Maybe don’t mention this?”
“Mention what?” Tristan smiled. She laughed and left the bathroom. “Um, Sally?”
“Hmm?” She peeked back in through the door.
“I’m sorry I brought up Connor.”
She shrugged.
“And I just--are you alright?”
She shrugged again, though he saw the sadness creeping back through her eyes.
“I’ll be okay.”
“You know, whoever he is, he’s not worth this,” Tristan said. He was still keenly aware of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a towel, but it felt like something Sally had to hear. “You’re such a good person, and you’re kind and generous, and you deserve better than some idiot who makes you want to hide away in your room all day.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Seriously. Don’t belittle yourself for the sake of others. People who love you should bring out the best in you. Love isn’t love if it leaves you feeling small or insignificant. You deserve to be loved by someone who will know himself lucky to have found you. Anything less isn’t worth a second of your time.”
Sally sniffed.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. “Thank you. I’ll, um… I’ll leave you to get dressed. Coffee?”
“Yeah, coffee sounds good,” Tristan said, and Sally closed the door with a quiet click.
CHAPTER TWELVE
-
Jo slid into the back seat of the truck and slammed the door shut.
“They’re screwing in my bathroom,” she said before Bella had even cleared the driveway.
“What?” Nikki asked sleepily.
“They’re screwing in my bathroom,” Jo repeated. “I heard them, panting away in there, I heard them.”
“What?” Bella said, more sharply. “Who?”
“Who do you think?” Jo asked seethingly, “Anita and that ungrateful, freeloading--”
“Really?” Bella asked. “Huh.”
They drove for a half mile before Bella decided that someone had to say something.
“You seem upset,” she noted.
“No, it’s just… come on, at least use your own bathroom, you know?”
“How do you know it was Anita?” Bella asked.
“Her scarf was on the couch. She probably forgot to tie it to the door handle. You know, ‘hey, sorry to disturb, I just need a moment of privacy in your house.’ Come on.”
Nikki tensed up.
“Scarf?”
“Yeah, the purple one she was wearing last night.”
“That’s odd,” Bella said, “why on earth would they use your bathroom? They’ve both got bedrooms, and let’s be honest, there are plenty of more private spaces around here than a bathroom without a functioning lock shared by three people. You know, there’s this spot by the lake, just past the clearing, where…”
“Did you see them?” Nikki interrupted.
“What? No. The door was closed. What do you think I did, take pictures? Come on. Like I said, it’s their problem. They just ought to take it out of my bathroom. Why do you care so much?”
“Nothing,” Nikki said, “I don’t. It just… seems odd, is all.” She bit her lip nervously.
They dropped Jo off by the mechanic and promised to pick her up in a half hour.
“Remember the budget,” Nikki called after her. Jo waved the comment away, still stomping furiously. Bella had barely started the car up again when Nikki exploded.
“How could she?” she said, sitting up, all tiredness forgotten.
“How could she what?”
“Do that?” Nikki said, “with Tristan. To me!”
“What?”
Nikki took a deep breath.
“Anita gave Sally her scarf last night because she was cold. It wasn’t Anita in there with Tristan, it was Sally. I know it. I can’t believe it!”
“Why not?” Bella asked innocently. “He’s free to sleep with whomever he likes, is he not? They’re both consenting adults, I don’t see why…”
“Because I told her I was interested in him,” Nikki said hotly. “I told her last night, and she said he wasn’t her type.”
“So?”
“So, what, is she doing it to upset me? Why would she do that? It’s vile, I can’t believe she’d lie to me this whole time.”
“Maybe she changed her mind.”
“Seems so.”
“Look, maybe you sweet-talked about the guy until she understood what you were seeing. Could happen. Not unheard of, definitely. And he’s hot, I mean, good for her.”
“Why are you on her side? What, you think she deserves him more?”
“No, of course not.” Bella raised her hands in momentary defense but quickly placed them back on the steering wheel. “I’m just saying, she got there first. I never really got the impression he was interested in Sally, to be honest.”
“Yeah. Me neither.”
Bella glanced sideways at her friend, who was sitting, feet hunched up on the seat, arms crossed, glaring angrily ahead.
“Honestly, I’m sure it was just a spur of the moment,” Bella said soothingly. “They were probably both still drunk. He’ll have forgotten all about it by lunchtime.”
“Maybe I should have made a move on him yesterday,” Nikki sighed, uncrossing her arms.
“What? No, look, you were all drunk, it would have been terrible. Besides,” she muttered, “it’s not like he’s in a hurry to leave.”
“What do you mean?”
Bella cleared her throat.
“I mean, you know, he’s still here. You’re still here. I can’t really see it
working out with Sally. She just wanted a rebound, I don’t think she’s actually into Tristan.”
“He might be into her, though,” Nikki scoffed.
“Well aren’t you the comedian. Look, sitting in here and moping around isn’t going to solve anything. Just go and talk to Sally later.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Or,” Bella said, more slowly, “go and talk to Tristan.”
Nikki’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Yeah, I guess. Maybe. Oh, right here.”
Bella stopped the car.
“Should I park?”
“No, don’t worry,” Nikki said, stepping out, “I’ll be here a while. Go pick up Jo, I’ll catch a ride later on. Just want some time to myself, really.”
“Alright, see you later.”
Nikki closed the door, and Bella did a round of the town in her car before turning to pick up Jo again. Jo stashed the can of oil in the back, and came round to the passenger seat, slamming all doors slightly harder than necessary.
“You okay?”
“What? Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Alright. It’s just that you seem…”
“It’s just that this man waltzes into our lives in the middle of the night, and now he’s having sex in my bathroom. With Anita. In my bathroom.”
“Jo, you brought the man home.”
“I know, I didn’t think he’d be staying around for so long,” Jo complained.
“Tell me about it,” Bella muttered.
“You don’t like him either?”
“I… no, I… look, why are you even upset? You don’t know it was Anita, it could have been anyone.”
“Yeah, sure. Right. Like he hasn’t been drooling over her since he arrived,” Jo said. “What am I going to do?”
“Get on with your life?” Bella suggested.
“I know his type, you know. Grew up in the city. Spoiled rotten. Probably filthy rich. And now he’s out here, trying to ‘find himself’ or whatever because he got upset when Daddy wouldn’t buy him a Ferrari. I just don’t think this guy is good news.”
“Then why did you take him home?”
“I didn’t know at the time, did I?” Jo slid down in the seat. “I’m just annoyed. And it’s not like I can just go up to him and ask him to stop having sex in my bathroom with Anita.”
Love Tangle: Riding Bareback Page 8
