“Isn’t Georgia old enough to be at home by herself?”
Wylie waves his hand dramatically, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to leave her here alone. She’s been super grumpy lately.”
“Say no more…” I hold up my hand, knowing Wylie means well and loves teenage Georgia more than life itself but is probably struggling with my wild niece. “Who’s the woman?”
“Someone Stevie said came into the co-op and looked like she’d be your type. She’s new in town.”
I groan audibly. I don’t have a fuckingtype, and I guarantee whatever Wylie and Stevie think is my ‘type’ isn’t what I’m into anymore. Especially after tasting Maggie.
“Come on, Rex’s Rode House Bar. A few beers and that permanent scowl you wear all the time might turn into a smile. Maybe you’ll break out of your dry spell and find a wedding date. You need one of those for next weekend, remember?”
I hesitate for a second before following Wylie into their house for dinner. It’s not like I have anything better to do tonight, and the noise at the town bar might be the perfect distraction to stop me from doing something stupid—like tracking down Maggie. She doesn’t need my hot-and-cold nonsense, and she’s smart, probably so fed up with it by now that she’s forgotten all about me. She hadn’t acted fazed when I’d told her to drive home and leave the fighting facility.
By the time we reach the front door of Cameron ranch, Wylie’s talked me into it, and a few hours later, I’m back at my apartment, showered, and heading to the most famous bar in our small town. I’m hoping this blind date Steve set up is just wild enough to agree to be my plus-one for next weekend’s wedding, and to distract me from Maggie.
Chapter 18 – Clay
Rex’s Rodeo House Bar is too damn loud for my taste.?
The front of the place is styled like a classic saloon, but the back opens into a massive warehouse the owners built to fit half the town—anyone from their twenties to their sixties—looking to kick back, drink, and have a good time. Two mechanical bulls sit at the far end, a band plays cover songs at the front, and the floor is packed with line dancers breaking it down to upbeat country hits.
I’ve lost count of how many nights I’ve spent here with my brothers and friends, but since cutting out alcohol and women, the place doesn’t have the same appeal that it used to.
I used to be the life of the party—either leading the charge onto the dance floor or buying the first round of beers at the bars that litter the perimeter. But those days now feel like a lifetime ago. Honestly, I’m not sure why my brother picked this place for his date night with Stevie, other than the fact that there’s not much else to do in town without driving all the way to San Angelo.
“You drinking tonight?” Wylie asks, nudging me while fully knowing that I’ve quit.
“Nah, but I can pick up the first round for you two.”
Stevie flashes me a smile and a thumbs up as I make my way to the bar, my mind drifting to the mystery woman she’s set me up with and how much I’d rather beanywhere but here tonight.
The thought of needing a date for Savannah’s wedding grates at me. The thought ofeven goingto this wedding is still pissing me off. But I’m not a dick, and if Wylie’s RSVP’d me plus one, then I don’t want to skip out.
Three tall pours of Bud later, one for my blind date, I’m headed back to the couple who’ve claimed a stand-up table right on the edge of the line dancing, watching the band play a rendition of Shania Twain’s‘Man, I Feel Like a Woman!’
“You couldn’t have picked a classier place to take your wife tonight?” I elbow Wylie playfully.
“We’ve got history here,” he winks.
I don’t know what that history is, but I can already tell it’s somethinggross.
Stevie perks up, waving excitedly over my shoulder at someone who’s just walked into the bar.
I take a deep breath, reminding myself that diving back into dating eventually was inevitable. I couldn’t keep cutting out everything—dating, sex, and alcohol—as some kind of punishment while I trained. Eventually, something had to give.
When I finally turn to greet her, I'm relieved that I don’t recognize her. She’s tall, with long, pin-straight blonde hair and striking blue eyes, sliding up to our group with a confident grin. She’s pretty, sure, but she doesn’t have Maggie’s gentle eyes, wide smile, or that infectious, bouncy energy that seems to follow her wherever she goes.
“Clay, this is Everly. She’s here in town on a nursing contract,” Stevie introduces.
“Nice to meet you, Clay.” Everly extends a hand to shake mine and I meet hers with a firm shake.
“Likewise,” I slide the extra Bud light I’d purchased her way, “Hope you like beer?”
She wrinkles her straight nose slightly, “Not really my style.”
“You don’t drink?” For a moment, I think I might not be alone in my sobriety tonight.
She throws her head back and laughs, “Oh no. I drink. Just not shitty, watered down beer. I’m going to go grab myself a glass of wine. Would you like anything?” she gestures towards my empty hands that are now laid flat on the bar.
