The blaring country music invades my ears as soon as we walk into the Twisted Bull. It’s the most popular bar in town with a decent-sized dance floor that brings in plenty of women looking to shake their asses and drink the night away. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is—like now in mid-November when it’s freeze-your-nuts-off weather—the place is always packed on the weekends.
Wilder’s the only reason I’m here on a Saturday night instead of enjoying a quiet evening home alone.
Sure, I like to drink, but I know when to stop. Wilder doesn’t. Making sure he gets home is my main priority, but so is making sure he doesn’t make an ass of himself.
The latter isn’t always possible.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Wilder’s drawl grabs my attention as we make it to the bar.
“I gotta ask ya somethin’,” he continues speaking to someone.
Looking around him, I notice he’s talking to some chick I’ve never seen before. Considering how small our town is and that everyone knows everyone, she must be visiting or just moved here.
“Hey,” she replies. “What’s your question, cowboy?”
Wilder lifts his cowboy hat, threads his fingers through his messy hair, and then places the hat back on his head. “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head at his pathetic pick-up line.
“Does that actually work?” the girl asks. “I heard that one five years ago.”
I chuckle at her not immediately dropping to her knees for him like most chicks do. Although Wilder and I look identical, it’s his outgoing personality that differentiates us the most. I’d rather be in a small crowd around a handful of people I know versus going out with loud music and obnoxious drunks.
“I got you talkin’ to me, didn’t I?” he muses, and I know he just flashed her his infamous wink. “I’m Wilder. Lemme buy your next drink.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as if being offered a free drink is a hardship.
I grab the bartender’s attention, order my beer, and then Wilder orders for him and…
Nope, he hasn’t even asked her yet.
Classic Wilder.
He starts a tab and then I follow them to a table. As soon as she turns toward him, he buries his face in her neck, murmuring something. She blushes and giggles.
I love being the awkward third wheel.
“This is my twin, Waylon,” he finally introduces us.
This is my cue to ask for her name.
“Hey, nice to meet you…”
“Bethany,” she supplies. “Nice to meet y’all too.”
“You from ’round here?” Wilder asks.
“Nashville. I’m here visitin’ a few friends.” She waves her hand in the air. “They’re ’round here somewhere.”
“Cool. Should we dance?” Wilder holds out his hand.
“Yeah, sure!” Her eyes beam, and as usual, I stay and watch their drinks.
We’re supposed to meet the rest of our siblings here, too. But Wilder wanted to come early. Tripp used to be our DD, but now he’s married with two kids, so he only hangs out for a couple hours since Magnolia stays home with them.
After they dance through three songs, they return to retrieve their drinks.
