“Fair,” I say. “I’ve got your back if anything goes south, okay? If you change your mind, anything. I’ll pick you up from wherever. If I don’t answer my cell, call the house.”
“Did you say I’m cute?” Becca interrupts. Guess we weren’t as secretive as I thought.
“You are,” Bri says, and a heated glance passes between them.
“Okay! On that note,” I pat Bri’s shoulder, “you two—three—have fun.”
I strut over to tap Caleb on the shoulder and give him an emphatic greeting. “Hey! I heard you were here!”
His relief is palpable as he sweeps me into a hug. “So good to see you! Here, meet Lydia and Briscoe. Y’all, this is Darcy.”
I wave and put my arm around Caleb’s waist. “Mind if I steal him for a dance?”
They gesture for me to take Caleb. “Good to see y’all,” he says as I pull him away. We easily fall into a two-step rhythm and he lets out a big sigh.
“You looked like you needed rescued,” I say.
“Yes and no,” he says, keeping a smile pasted on.
“An ex?” I ask.
“Something like that. I’m glad they’re happy together, though. It’s just weird to see it.”
“I get it,” I say. “There are some people you never really get over.”
Caleb tilts his head. “You not over somebody?”
I glance at the water-stained drop tile ceiling. “I’m over him. I’m not over what he did to me. And he won’t get over me.”
Caleb nods. “That makes sense. Need me to beat anybody up?”
I chuckle. “I’ll let you know. Probably not. He’s a weenie and would probably call the cops because he can’t take a little punch.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to make any comments on masculinity, but . . .”
I laugh again. “I know what you mean.” I catch the eye of the woman Caleb was talking to, her look wistfully sad. “Should I pretend like I love you?”
Caleb smirks. “I don’t want to be petty, but. . . .”
I throw my head back to laugh this time. “Everybody’s entitled a little bit of petty every once in a while.”
“Let’s show off then,” Caleb says. He demonstrates his prowess, spinning me this way and that while we both smile and laugh. I notice his Lydia in the corner watching us with a similar pained smile to what Caleb was just wearing.
A cowboy hat catches my eye, and there’s Jake, long and tall and broad and dreamy. He’s changed his shirt to a crisp, fresh pocket tee that hangs masterfully off his shoulders down to his tight ass. I love that he put on a fresh shirt to come to the bar, and I wonder if he keeps one in his truck, packed one just for this, or stopped somewhere to buy one.
All of those thoughts are equally endearing.
He’s looking at his phone and frowning. Caleb follows my line of vision.
“Oh, Daddy’s mad again,” he says as Jake stalks out of the bar, lifting the phone to his ear.
“Hope everything’s okay,” I say vaguely. “He doesn’t really get mad.”
“Oh, he gets mad,” Caleb says. “Wednesday, when you wouldn’t drink water, he was pissed.”
I chuckle as the song switches to a slow song and we change our pace. “He’s a nut.”
“He is, but he’s a good roomie. It’s weird. This summer is like the sendoff to the real world for all of us. Jake’s finishing school, I’m starting my plumbing program, and Becca’s working toward her farm.”
