Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“I’m not a martini guy!” I called.
“It’s not a martini.” This time, he didn’t stop walking. He left the area altogether, and another guy appeared seconds later.
He had the same kind of T-shirt, black, with the restaurant’s logo in small print, but he didn’t wear it like Sebastian did. The fabric didn’t stretch around this guy’s biceps.
I took a sip of my non-martini and thought it tasted an awful lot like a martini.
It wasn’t bad.
Sebastian came back two drinks later. His date had left by then.
The dinner crowd was thinning out, and they didn’t seat any new guests. Around that time, the music was cranked up to place focus on the bar crowd, which had evidently grown while I’d guzzled booze.
It didn’t escape my attention that the other bartender was sticking around, and I had a feeling Sebastian chose the other half of the bar as his territory for a reason.
And it was just perfect. It was what people in my life did—they distanced themselves from me.
“Hey, is that a real cowboy hat?” someone asked.
I tilted my head toward the three women sitting closest to me, about six feet up the bar.
“I think so,” I replied. “It doesn’t feel pretend anyway.”
“Ohh, he’s an actual Southerner,” one of them gushed. Alcohol had a way of making someone think they were whispering when they weren’t.
The middle one, clearly the one who’d had the most drinks, spoke next. “Do you work on a farm?”
I furrowed my brow. “Ma’am, I’m a rancher.”
Or I used to be. Fuck. I drained the last of my drink and flagged down the bartender.
As he leaned close, I asked, “Can you get me Sebastian?”
“Sure, man.”
I was an idiot. This wasn’t how I avoided that man.
Sebastian had reluctance written all over him but came over anyway. “There’s nothing in this bar I can give you that he can’t.”
I could think of a couple things, but I wasn’t going to.
“Liquor me up, darlin’. I could go for somethin’ simple now. Rum and Coke.”
He held out his hand. “If you give me your car keys.”
What did he take me for? I wasn’t driving home in this condition. I was raised to sleep it off in my truck.
“I wasn’t gonna drive,” I muttered defensively, digging out my keys. I dropped them into his hand, and he pocketed them. “Wait—” What the fuck was wrong with me? “Why did I just agree to that?”
That earned me a chuckled huff, and it was the warmest response I’d gotten from him since I’d left.
As he got crackin’ on my drink, I couldn’t resist watching him again. A few drinks made me more honest with myself, which I supposed wasn’t good, but… The truth had a time and place too. And the truth was, I’d never been so happy as I’d been this summer. That was what hurt so damn much. He’d shown me a glimpse of what it could be like.
When I hadn’t been busy fearing the inevitable end of my visit, life had been so good. Sebastian had made me feel alive. Really alive.
My God, I missed being oblivious. Because he’d been dead set on never crossing any lines either. I’d gotten what I wanted, a fling with an expiration date.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, unable to stick with one feeling. Was I pissed at him? Did I miss him? Was I pining? Did I wanna punch him in the fucking throat for causing me pain? Did I regret anything?
He set a rum and Coke in front of me, and I adjusted my hat by the crown and felt more confused than ever.
“I thought cowboys weren’t allowed to wear their hats indoors,” Sebastian said.
“There’re exceptions.” I waved that off and took a swig of the drink. It was good. Strong. Fuck, perfect. “You know what? You’re a rum and Coke. Strong and biting, a certain hangover—a real bad one—but with enough sweetness that you keep comin’ back for more. You don’t understand the damage until it’s done—until you’re in shreds.”
Sebastian rested his hands on the bartop and tilted his head at me. “Are you in shreds, Blake?”
I laughed, kinda hard, and held out my arms. “Ain’t that obvious, darlin’? I’m so desperate to belong somewhere that I show up in a place where no one can’t stand me.”
Not unlike back home. No one could stand me there either.
“Fuck.” My humor died, and it felt like my stomach was sucked into a black void, taking my smile and my composure with it. I had to get away. As I hauled out my wallet, I finished my drink in four gulps. “Lemme pay and get outta here. The tab—close it.”
I shouldn’t have had that last…two drinks and… I’d lost count of the beers.
On the flip side, I could no longer focus on anybody’s face, because everyone was moving too fast.