“What the hell does any guy know about sex at age sixteen anyway?” Rox sighed. “Maybe that’s why I was bitter about you wearing that purity ring. I shoulda waited.”
“I know part of the reason Deck and I were at the altar a month after graduation was so he could finally f**k me.”
Roxanne choked on her drink. “No shit?”
“Not a good way to start a marriage,” Georgia said dryly. “Because the deed lasted less than a minute.”
“What was the other reason Deck married you?” Leah asked.
“To go into the family cattle business with my father and RJ.”
“My parents weren’t happy about me’n Warner tying the knot when I turned nineteen. They wanted us to wait. We didn’t.”
The sandwich arrived and the conversation lagged while she ate.
As soon as Georgia finished eating, Leah whistled for the waitress. “A round of shooters.”
Those shooters went down the hatch pretty damn easily. Especially when the toasts were directed to our new fun friend, Georgia.
I do too know how to have fun, Tell.
And Georgia was having a great time. Amidst Leah and Roxanne’s heated discussion about the TV show Tabatha’s Salon Takeover, a couple of young, good-looking guys came by the table and hit on them. Georgia might’ve felt self-conscious that two married women were more accomplished flirts, but these ladies were just too damn entertaining. Somehow the duo convinced the guys to buy them another round of shots and then charmed them into leaving.
Leah and Roxanne called their technique for procuring free drinks the power of the cle**age.
A power Georgia breezily admitted she’d been born without. Which sent her new pals into hiccupping laughter.
Roxanne got that look in her eye again and Georgia braced herself. “Okay, Miss G-Thang. Next snoopy question. Can you still do a herkie?”
Georgia rolled her eyes at Roxanne. Miss G-Thang was her new nickname? “Those are easy.”
“Prove it.”
“What? Now?”
“Yep. You’re the one who said it’s easy,” Leah said with sweet belligerence. “So do one.”
She could stall. The chatty pair would probably forget about it and move onto another topic. “I’ll need another shot.”
Leah motioned to the cocktail waitress and she dropped off three tequila shooters.
Roxanne smirked. “Are you gonna do the shot before you jump? Or after?”
Now she was stuck. “After.”
The women clapped and whistled like her private cheering section.
Georgia scooted out of the booth. She’d done this many times, piece of cake. She briefly closed her eyes—whoa, not good for her balance after a few drinks—and reopened them, smiling, bouncy, peppy, in total cheerleader mode. She clapped her hands twice and followed it with a double fist pump.
“You’re on a roll, sista. Do it!” They chanted Georgia, Georgia, Georgia.
She brought her body into alignment. She threw her arms in the air, performing back-to-back herkies. And she added in a pike, just to mix it up.
Applause broke out. Even some catcalls.
Breathing a little hard and thankful she practiced Pilates to stay limber, Georgia knocked back the shot and exchanged high fives with Roxanne and Leah.
“Now one of you has to do something since I totally humiliated myself.”
“I know!” Leah said, sliding out of the booth. “Ever seen the movie Coyote Ugly? That’s me’n Rox’s favorite. And sometimes, if it’s kinda slow in here, Lettie lets us do that boot-scootin’ dance on the bar. Let’s ask her.”
“But only if you’ll do it with us, Georgia.” Roxanne cocked her head, sizing Georgia up as she scooted from the booth to stood beside her. “Men love to watch chicks’ body parts bouncing. If you did a couple cheerleading jumps off the end of the bar? All sexy-like? Dude. We’d be drinkin’ free all night long.”
“Hells yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Leah said, giving them each a fist bump.
“Sorry, ladies, but that ain’t happening.”
Georgia’s heart jumped into her throat when she heard Tell’s voice behind her. She turned around and looked into his furious face.
“Hi, Tell,” Roxanne said brightly. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to spoil our fun, sounds like,” Leah said suspiciously, “which is ironic since Tell McKay is the self-proclaimed king of fun, right?”
Tell’s eyes never left Georgia’s. “I’m lookin’ for her.”
“Why? Didja have a date?”
“No,” Georgia said to him. “But if you wanna hang around, after I’m done dancing on the bar I’ll sell you some ad space for the Devil’s Tower Rodeo program guide.”
“Not. Fucking. Funny. Say your goodbyes, Georgia. We’re leavin’.”
Then Roxanne and Leah were flanking her. “Not so fast. You’re looking a little pissed off, McKay.”
“I am pissed off and this doesn’t concern you, Roxanne. So butt out,” Tell said in a measured tone.
Leah wagged her finger in his face. “According to the girlfriend code—”
Tell put his mouth on Georgia’s ear. “You can walk out. Or I carry you out. Your choice.”
His he-man tactics ticked her off, making her bolder than usual. Or maybe that was the booze. Putting her hand on his chest, she pushed him back. “You butt out, McKay.”
Roxanne and Leah released a chorus of oohs.
Georgia turned her back on him and continued the conversation, although Tell’s angry gaze was hot enough to burn holes in her clothes. “Do we choose our own music for the table dance? Because ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ would be—”
Her sentence ended in a shriek as Tell picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Makin’ good on my warning.”
She kicked and thrashed until he clamped his arms more tightly around her legs. She beat on his butt with her fists. “Let me go, you jackass.”
Tell strode away. Jeers, whistles and more catcalls followed them outside.
So did Roxanne and Leah. They were trying to free her from Tell’s fireman’s hold until he yelled, “Enough! This is between me and Georgia. Now go on home to your husbands before I call them myself and tell them what you’ve been up to tonight.”
“How do you know what we’ve been doing?” Roxanne demanded.