“Moonshine, there ain’t no way I’ve forgotten,” I said with a wink as I wiped down the counter.
Though she didn't notice the way my gaze lingered. My mind started spinning through possibilities. I’d seen her order drinks before and knew she could hold her own better than half the guys in here. I knew she had an obsession with Diet Coke, but her nerves rattled me.
Maybe she was just nervous being around me again. She slid a twenty across the counter as she took her soda. “Keep the change.” Though her tone was clipped.
“Anytime,” I said, watching her head back to her table. And my God, did she look good walking away from me, but fuck she’d look much better if she’d stayed.
Long after she left, my gaze continued to seek her out. I couldn’t shake the look on her face and how she quickly brushed it off like what I’d said meant nothing, even though it had clearlyriled her up. Monroe had been ignoring me since the night we spent together in Miami, and something told me she had a damn good reason to.
Chapter Nine
Jase
Past
The jukebox was still going, with an old Alan Jackson tune echoing across the empty tables. It was past midnight, and the lone stragglers left were nearly falling asleep along the bar. I should’ve finished running inventory or balancing the books, anything to keep busy. Instead, I stared at the same bottle of bourbon on the counter, Monroe’s laugh still stuck in my head.
That forced laugh she gave me after I’d joked about her being pregnant. The flush in her cheeks as she brushed it off too quickly. I’m not sure what drove me to say it, but something unexpected settled in my stomach after her startled reaction.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I turned as Bailey slid onto a stool across from me, sipping her drink like she’d been watching me brood for the last ten minutes.
Billie and Monroe had left for the night just over an hour ago, and Bailey had disappeared into our shared office until now. “Just tired,” I lied, stacking the bottle back onto the shelf.
My ever so inconspicuous sister, prying like it was her job, raised a brow in question. “That’s a load of crap. You were staring a hole straight through that bottle of bourbon like it had the answers to life's most daunting questions.”
I topped off her glass of margarita with a pitcher that hadn’t been used, leaning against the bar. “Do you talk to Monroe much these days?”
Her brows shot up in amusement, yet she seemed a bit confused too. “Monroe Bishop? My best friend, who I just spent the night drinking with across from you?”
“Yeah.” I kept my tone casual with no explanations. I realized too late what a fucking stupid question it was, but I didn’t know how else to bring the woman up. I wasn’t thinking straight tonight. I hadn’t been in some time.
Bailey let out a sharp laugh, and that’s when I realized she might be a little more drunk than I’d thought. “Since when are you interested in Monroe?”
“I’m not,” I answered too quickly. “Just wondering how she’s holding up now that Nash is back in town.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, unconvinced as she took a sip of her margarita. “She’s fine. Busy with work, still bosses Monty around on their projects. She’s working with the guys on the remodel of the ranch, trying to pretend Nash’s return hasn’t put a damper on her mood much like it has to the rest of us.”
I nod, not giving her much else to go on, but I can sense the wheels turning in her head trying to make sense of everything.
Bailey and I have never been incredibly close. We’re two years apart and have different interests and hobbies. We only just started spending more time together now that we partnered up to open and run Stingers, though most of our partnership is due to us running separate parts of the bar. She takes care of the front of the house, running the bar, the kitchen, hiring our employees and making sure everything runs smoothly nightafter night. I take care of the back of the house, focusing on running the books, purchasing and stocking up inventory. I even recently started working on securing a partnership with a local distillery I had yet to share with her, and I knew she'd been annoyed that I'd seemed less present recently.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” I shot her a look, but she didn’t back off. “Seriously, Jase. You’ve spent years avoiding anything about my friends, and now suddenly you’re asking about Monroe?” She grinned, shaking her head. “Should I be worried?”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Forget I asked. I was just trying to spark up a conversation, sis.”
Yet even as she laughed and changed the subject, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was going on with Monroe, and I couldn’t decide if I was crazy for wanting to figure it out, or if I’d be crazier to let it go.
It was nearly two in the morning when I stepped out to toss the last of the trash out and noticed a car I didn’t recognize alone in the empty parking lot.
No one should still be at the bar at this time, which meant this person was passed out drunk in their car, or they were sleeping in it. I wasn’t against someone living in their car or using our lot to park overnight, but with my sister living in the upstairs apartment, I had to be wary of anyone who might be a danger to her.
Even if Nash was living with her.
I admit it was a stupid plan on my part, but guilt was a heavy burden to make sense of. The guilt wasn’t only because of theyears wasted. It was the fact that just a few months ago I had done the same thing that led me to exile him.
I fucked his sister.
I wasted so much time hating Nash for what he’d done, though when I saw the look on my sister’s face after all these years, she still looked at him the way she always had. I always used to joke that Bailey was in love with him. She had hearts in her eyes for him and had planned their wedding in her diary since she was sixteen. I never imagined he felt the same way or had any interest in her.
