Just behind him, there’s an unmistakable mop of auburn hair flipping out from under a dusty cowboy hat. He’s leaning on the back of the chute in a fitted black T-shirt. Muscular, tattooed arms draped over the top rail as he says something to Denny with a smile.
Gross, Cass.
I blame pregnancy hormones, a crushing fear he’s going to tell everybody here I’m pregnant with his baby, and the fact he basically saved my life with these Jolly Ranchers. That’s the only reason why I’m hung up on him for so long I miss Denny’s winning ride. I’m forced out of my trance when Shelby jumps up, yanking me by the arm, to cheer and whistle loudly.
My thoughts are still foggy—probably the pregnancy brain I keep hearing about—when the rodeo ends and we head to the bar. I buy two drinks on auto-pilot, unsure how I can temporarily forget I’m pregnant after spending the entire night fighting nausea and struggling to stay awake. When Shelby drags me toward Denny and Red, I’m glad to at least have people to give these to before I reflexively take a sip.
“Cass, have I told you how much I love you lately?” Denny simpers and grabs the silver can I’m holding out. “Seriously, you’re the best girl around.”
Smoke nearly pours out of Shelby’s ears. As if this hasn’t been the dynamic between the two of us since high school. If Denny notices how jealous she is, he doesn’t care. Unsurprising. She may be smitten about him, but we all know Denny doesn’t date exclusively.
“Yeah, yeah. No amount of flattery is going to get me to buy you more than one beer. This is a celebratory drink because you won. Don’t get used to it.” I sit down next to Shelby, sliding the second beer across to Red. “I bought two instinctively and then remembered I can’t drink, so here.”
“Making sure we’re hydrated even on your day off. Do we still have to tip you?” Red winks, and I furrow my eyebrows at him, refusing to do anything that might be an indication of how warm my chest suddenly feels.
“Tip: shut up, Red.” I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. “This is why I don’t do nice things for you idiots. You can’t simply say thank you and move along.”
“You love us.” Denny takes a swig, sliding closer to Red to make room for another of his cowboys, Colt.
“Tolerate, not love. And I barely do that.”
“Anyway,” Shelby pipes up, clearly growing annoyed by her lack of involvement in the banter. “Cheers to Denny on his win.”
Their beer cans clink together and then into my giant, metal water bottle—something that’s basically become an extra appendage since getting pregnant, considering it’s never more than two feet away from me. I’m viscerally aware of Red’s eyes on me as I pop a green apple Jolly Rancher in my mouth. As much as I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m using any part of his present, it’s more important that I don’t throw up in the middle of the conversation. Seconds later, my phone vibrates in my back pocket.
Red:Are they helping?
Cass:Helping… rot my teeth? Yes. Make me gain a ton of weight? Yes. Stop the nausea? Yes.
Red:I’ll hook you up with more when you get low
Cass:You make it sound like they come from a dealer on the street corner. I can buy my own.
Red:He’s in the alley, actually. And he’ll be pissed if we get our supply somewhere else
Red:I don’t think he’s the kind of guy we want to make mad
I look from the phone over to him, startled to find him looking right back at me. A small laugh blows from my nose, and I shake my head.
Cass:Well, we can’t risk pissing alley-guy off.
Cass:I’m probably good for a few more days
Red:I’ll drop some off at your house tomorrow night.
Cass:If you wake me up, you’re dead, asshole.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to join the conversation. Between it being past my bedtime and the weird emotions around Red, I don’t have it in me to focus on whatever small town gossip the rest ofthe group is discussing. But I do my best, listening to Shelby shamelessly flirt with Denver. Slogging through Colt’s ramblings about some pickup truck he might buy. And glancing over at Red only when I absolutely can’t help myself.
Starting to think I might legitimately fall asleep sitting up, I work up the nerve to turn to Shelby. “I’m about ready to go home.”
Her face drops. “Already? Really? Can you tough it out for another hour or so?”
“Shelb, come on. It’s not even early—it’s eleven o’clock. You agreed on the way here that we could leave whenever I wanted.”
She groans like the old alcoholics at The Horseshoe when I announce last call.
“I can drive you home,” Red offers.
