Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 13485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 67(@200wpm)___ 54(@250wpm)___ 45(@300wpm)
Offering me a tight smile, she tilts her head. “Learned from the best. Or the worst. That’s you, by the way.”
“I was . . . a lot of things back then. Look, no one wants this weekend to be magical more’n me. Grady and Quinn—they’re some of my favorite people. They deserve to be celebrated. So let’s celebrate them, yeah? Leave the past where it belongs?”
She splashes me. “That’s a lot of past to, er, get past.”
“The expert songwriter at work.”
“Shut up.” She splashes me again.
“But really, Jo, I’m proud of you. All the work you put in—it’s really something to watch you make your dreams come true. I can’t imagine how good it must feel to make music as beautiful and infectious as yours. It’s just so . . . you. Makes my heart hurt in a good way.” I pause. “And a really bad one too.”
I’ve practiced putting myself out there a lot lately. It can still be excruciating sometimes, but it’s getting easier the more I do it.
Her expression softens again. “It’s weird hearing that.”
“What? That we’re all proud as hell of our hometown girl?”
“No. Nobody calls me Jo. Not in my professional life, I mean.” She looks away, squinting against the reflection of the sunset on the water.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked—”
“It’s fine.”
“There’s that word again.”
Josie looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Okay. Maybe I’m not fine with you calling me that. Brings back memories is all.”
“Not the good ones?”
“Not the good ones.”
“But we had good ones, right? Because I think about them. A lot.”
She goes still, sinking into the water.
Finally, she starts swimming away. “I’m gonna go get another beer. Later, Wes.”
It’s her way of telling me not to follow her.
I don’t.
Chapter 3: Hartsville Heartthrobs
Weston
Ido, however, wear a backward baseball hat to the Rattler the next night.
Josie always went wild when I wore a backward baseball hat.
Shameless? Yes. But desperate times call for desperate measures. During the actual rehearsal at Lucky River Ranch an hour ago, Josie was cordial but cold.
I hope some live music and dancing might warm her up a little.
She always did comment on my “Wrangler butt.” So naturally I’m wearing a new pair of Wranglers too.
May have also put in a good word with Frisky Whisky, the band, after I got permission from Quinn and Grady. I joined them for their weekly practice on Tuesday night. We actually sounded all right playing together.
I’m about to make a grand gesture. One that will probably end with me holding my proverbial dick in my hand. But I’m determined to make every effort to fix what I broke.
To show her how much she means to me.
I’m waiting at the bar with a margarita in one hand—spicy, with a Tajín rim—and a Shiner Bock longneck in the other when she walks in.
It’s all I can do not to whistle.
But because I’m a goddamn gentleman, I stare instead in a way I couldn’t at the rehearsal.
She’s wearing this strappy little dress that bares her arms and flirts with her knees. Pale pink. Same shade as her full lips that are pulled into a big smile.
A real one, the kind that lights up her eyes.
She’s wearing shimmery cowboy boots with tall, tall heels that make her legs look a mile long. She’s got Quinn on one arm and her mama on the other. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Tallulah already scooping ice into a pair of glasses for more margaritas.
One of the many perks of small-town living: Tallulah knows your drink order before you do.
I straighten. Pray like hell my fly is zipped.
Josie’s gaze finds mine straight away. We used to joke about that—how we’d always find each other across the room, even when we just met. Made us ending up together seem like fate.
I’d like to think the universe is still on our side, especially now that I’m not embarrassed by my feelings for her. I’m not embarrassed or afraid of feelings, period.
Her eyes go up, up. Smile falters when she sees my hat.
“Long time no see.” I hold out the margarita. “Still drink these?”
She looks down. Blinks. Looks back up. “You bastard.”
Mrs. Reid frowns. “Josie.”
I let out a surprised bark of laughter. “It’s the Tajín, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her eyes are on my hat again as she takes the drink from me. “You have some balls, Wes.”
Mrs. Reid holds up her hands. “All right, I’m outta here. Y’all duke it out on your own. Quinn, let’s grab a drink.”
Quinn’s future mother-in-law yanks her toward Tallulah, who’s waving them down from the other end of the bar.
“Holler if you need me!” Quinn says, giving Josie a meaningful look.
I tap the bottom of my bottle to Josie’s glass. “Balls? For remembering your drink order? That’s one thing I’ll never apologize for.”
Josie sips. Closes her eyes and lets out a sound that’s half moan, half laugh.