Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
He nodded and got to work as I turned to take in the scene. It was a decent crowd for a bar in Billings, but it was definitely not like going to a bar in San Francisco or Davis. Many of the people in the casino area looked like they might have come from a long day at the refinery, and others looked like they’d been holding down their vinyl stool since the building had been erected early in the previous century.
But there were quite a few guys giving me a quick up-down, so I flashed my smile early and often.
“You okay, there, buddy?” the bartender asked, setting a refill down in front of me.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just seem… Never mind.”
The guy next to me leaned over and chuckled. “Little awkward. Boy, you wanna suck a dick, just lick your lips at someone. They’ll get the hint. Believe me.”
I… didn’t want to suck some random stranger’s dick in a gay bar in Billings. “What if I just want to make out on the dance floor a little?” I joked back.
The bartender and the guy next to me roared with laughter. “That’s a good one. Maybe the band knows Elvis’s ‘Love Me Tender,’ and you can even slow dance with your sweetheart.”
Okay, I was in over my head. The whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, but at least I wasn’t desperate enough to have an even worse bad taste in my mouth.
Thankfully, the band was on fire, and I was able to relax and enjoy it once I stopped assessing everyone who came through the door as a potential hookup. How Lennon had ever found anyone here for a quick connection was beyond me.
Maybe I was being too picky or too snobby. Hell, I was definitely too scared, and I was using everything else as an excuse. It didn’t really matter in the end because the flirty bartender ended up being good company, and enough people started dancing that I was able to join and let loose a little.
Unfortunately, no one non-intimidating seemed interested. Plenty of guys tried to get me out back, but none of them seemed to want a little kissing and heavy petting.
Maybe the barfly was right. I was a little old lady whose idea of getting to first base was way too antiquated for a gay bar in Billings.
Before getting back on the road the next day, I went ahead and swung by Costco to get a few things I couldn’t get in Legacy. My plan was to pick up a bulk container of nuts for Lennon as a joke and shop the big-screen televisions, even though mine was already plenty big. But as soon as I opened my car door, I almost took out the man getting out of his truck beside me.
“Oh shit,” I blurted. “Sorr…” My voice trailed off as I realized it was Judd Kincaid.
His eyebrows lifted. “Alex? What’re you doing here?”
My face heated. “Um. Nuts? And stuff.”
He hesitated as if unsure how to take that. I didn’t blame him. So I added more. “Also, I was here in town to see a band play last night. At a bar. Palomino.”
“Ah. Was it good?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I had a good time. Drank and danced a little. You know.”
How long had it been since I’d felt this awkward?
“Good,” he said. “That… sounds good. Glad you had a chance to relax.”
Suddenly, I had a horrible thought. “Wait. Are you in Billings for a Costco run or a… a Costco run?”
Kincaid looked at me for a beat. “I… don’t understand. I’m here to get food. For the station house.”
And now I was on fire. “Of course! Well, I’d better go in. My plan was to get back in time to be at Timber for the dinner shift.”
He nodded. “Sure. Same. Er, well, I need to be back in time to make dinner for the crew. I promised to bring rotisserie chicken and a big cake.”
We started making our way toward the entrance, still speaking as awkwardly as if we were two fourteen-year-olds introduced by our parents and told to “make friends.”
When we got to the giant trolleys, I grabbed one and glanced up at him in question, as if asking if the plan was to go our separate ways or shop together. He nodded and followed along, as if that somehow gave me a clear answer.
“Tell me about the band,” he said after we showed our membership cards to the greeter. “I gotta say, I’m surprised you drove all the way up here to listen to music. Why not offer to have the band play at Timber instead?”
“Uh, because bands like to be paid for their work?” I said with a small laugh. “And since I’m still paying back my startup and renovation loans, there’s not a lot of extra money for fancy shit like live music.”