“I know, I know,” she says again as she interrupts. “Let’s not talk about this again. Get ready. I’ll be there to pick you up in an hour. Tonight, Lucky won’t know what hit him.”
She’s referring to the namesake of the bar. “Lucky was a horse, Jenna.”
“I know.”
“A female horse.”
“Oh,” she says, deadpan. “That bitch won’t know what hit her,” she corrects.
I laugh. “Much better.”
********
Jenna grins at me over the top of her mug as she gulps down swallows of cold beer. “Aaaaaaaaaaah,” she growls heartily as she fake-wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Love me some beer.” She acts like a burly cowboy who’s been out on the range for a month.
“It’s a good thing I’m used to your incredible femininity, or else I might be in shock right now.”
“It’s pretty stunning, right?” she asks, giggling and looking around the crowd of country-lovin’ folks at Lucky’s. “Look. They’re all dancing again. They’ve recovered just fine.”
She’s referring to our dance floor disruption. Jenna gets a kick out of dragging me onto the dance floor from time to time to dance free style while everyone else line dances. To say that it causes a stir would be a tragic understatement.
As I scan the myriad faces around the room, I see that they’re still throwing strange and slightly-irritated looks our way. All except the men, of course. They loved the show.
“I don’t know how you talk me into these things.”
“Um, because they’re fun and you like fun and you need fun and I can give you fun. That’s how.”
I grin. “I guess.” And she’s right. Jenna and a night of goofy, carefree fun are exactly what I need.
“What the eff?” she says suddenly, looking at something over my shoulder. I turn to see what caught her attention. Brent is standing near the entrance, scanning the crowd. I have a feeling I know who he’s looking for. “How the hell did he know where we were?”
I sigh. “Drogheda.”
“I thought she didn’t like Brent.”
I shrug. “She thinks I can do better, I guess. But she still won’t lie to him.”
He spots me and smiles. Instantly, I recognize a difference. Things have been strained between us lately and his smiles have been as tight as mine have felt. But not this one. This one is full of all the charm that first attracted me to him so long ago.
I’m immediately suspicious.
I smile as he approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come a’courtin’,” he says in a thick accent.
“A’courtin’?”
His smile widens. “Yep. Isn’t that what they call it?”
“Who’s they?”
“The locals.”
“Oh,” I snort derisively. “You live, what, like an hour away and now we’re suddenly hicks down here?”
I can’t help the prickliness in my tone. He’s as much of a snob as my father. And neither of them has any right to be, as far as I’m concerned.
“I’m just teasing you, Cam. Geez, take it easy.” He reaches for my hand and tugs. “Dance with me.”
He’s smiling down at me, his eyes twinkling and playful, and I think to myself that maybe I ought to give it one last try, give myself one last shot to feel what I thought I once felt. So I let him lead me onto the dance floor.
As if on cue, the DJ switches to the set of slow songs he plays each half hour. It’s kind of a thing at Lucky’s—every thirty minutes, the DJ plays two ballads back to back.
Brent pulls me into the crowd and then into his arms. He holds me tight against him, much tighter than I would’ve liked, and I wind my arms around his neck. He buries his face in my neck and I feel his lips as he kisses the skin beneath my ear.
I want to feel desire. I want to enjoy the close contact and the way our bodies sway to the music, but it just doesn’t feel like it used to. It’s as though there’s space between us, even when there is none. Yes, there’s something between us. Or more like someone.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image of Trick as it tumbles into my mind. I know I wouldn’t be having these thoughts if I were in Trick’s arms. Therein lies the problem. I can’t have Trick. Or rather, Trick doesn’t want me. At least not enough. So why am I still hanging on? Why can’t I move on? Why can’t I return the love of the guy who does want me?
Turning my head to lay my cheek against Brent’s shoulder, I concentrate on the lyrics and try to clear my mind of everything but Brent and the moment. I focus on my breathing and the feel of his muscular chest and arms.
When I start to feel a little more “present,” I open my eyes.
Damn! Wouldn’t you know…
They collide with the intense greenish-gray ones I can’t forget. No matter how much I wish I could.
He’s watching me, his expression unfathomable. I lift my head, my eyes locked on his, and we stare at each other. He takes one step toward me and stops. My stomach twitters and my heart flutters in my chest. It’s in that second, in that very moment, that I realize Brent will never be enough. He never has been. He’s never made me feel this way. No one has. No one but Trick.
No doubt sensing the change in my body language, Brent lifts his head and looks down at me. He’s smiling lazily at first, but it dies pretty quickly when he sees my expression.
Like a fish out of water, my mouth is working its way open and closed as I struggle to find the words. I know I have to end it, but I never expected it would be so hard.
Brent frowns and shakes his head slightly, as if he’s trying to understand the unspoken conversation between us. But then he looks up, looks in the direction I was looking. I know the instant he spots Trick.
He turns narrowed eyes on me and his lips thin into a bitter smirk. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?”
“Brent, I…”
I don’t even know what to say. I can’t tell him I’m leaving him for someone else. Trick’s not mine. He might not ever be. And even though that reality twists my stomach into a sick knot, I know I can’t string Brent along when my heart is with someone else, even if there’s a chance I might never have that someone else. I can’t ignore it any longer.
Brent flings my arms from around his neck and hisses, “Don’t bother.” He turns around and stalks away, weaving through the crush of bodies on the dance floor, leaving me standing by myself as the song winds down.