Wanna meet me at the bar? I’ll drive
Sawyer
Sure thing
As they head out, Fisher leans in and whispers to PJ, though I catch it. “Bet you eight dollars she’s going for Uncle Cole.”
“You hush now. And whyeightdollars?” PJ asks, narrowing her eyes.
Fisher shrugs. “’Cause that’s what’s in my piggy bank. But I can throw in three Canadian coins and some cat food if you want to make it interesting.”
PJ stares at him. “Where on earth did you even get Canadian coins?”
Fisher grins. “Let’s just say… I’ve got international business. And that’s what you’re worried about? You should be askin’ why I have cat food when we don’t got any cats.”
PJ sighs. “You’re somethin’ else, Fisher.”
“I know,” he says proudly. “I’m kind of a big deal.”
I giggle, and before I know it, I’m parking in front of the bar. Honey waves me over once she spots me. I climb into her truck, and she barely waits for me to shut the passenger door before hitting the gas. "Thought since you were back in town you could use a good ole Weston Woods night."
I pull the seatbelt across my chest. "I’m surprised people still go there. But I’m always down for a night out with you. How have things been?"
Honey blows air out her cheek. "Oh, you know. Nothing exciting. Still pulling double shifts and singing on stage anytime the owner allows." She glances sideways. "Still on and off with Milo, if you can believe it."
I blink. "Wait. Milo from high school?"
She drums her nails against the steering wheel. "Guilty."
"Wow, so you really are high school sweethearts."
"I don’t know about that. When things are good between us, it doesn’t last long." She smiles, like she's not sure if it's supposed to be a joke. "Sometimes I think the men in this town just don’t settle down. Like it's a disease."
"I think it's just men everywhere," I say, half-laughing. "Weston’s just got a higher concentration."
Honey kills the engine and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, girl. I think half of our graduating class is parked right there."
Weston Woods has grown up and out since the last time I set foot here, but not in a good way. The trees are thinner. It’s more dirt than grass now, and the clearing's wide enough to fit two dozen trucks and still have plenty of room to run around. Country music is playing from at least three different speakers. Half the town is draped over tailgates and lawn chairs are spread out.
"I was hoping at least some of them would've moved on," I say, eyeing a cluster of guys in backwards caps doing their best to crush beer cans against their foreheads.
She pops open her cooler and fumbles for a bottle, pressing the cold glass into my hand. "Nothing ever really moves on around here." She swings her boots onto thetailgate and leans back, chin tilted to the stars. “Even for those of us who leave, we somehow always find our way back."
I follow her lead and plant myself on the tailgate. Music cuts out for a split second from the truck next to us, replaced by the roar of a crowd. A guy climbs into the bed of a jacked-up Ram—shirt already off—and punctures the side of a beer can with a key. He holds it up for the crowd, smirks, then pops the tab and drains it in less time than it takes to blink. The crowd loses its mind, hooting and stomping, and when he flips the can over his shoulder, half the girls within sight are busy pretending they don’t see how ripped he is.
"Who is that?"
Honey squints. "Oh, that's Rogue. Another Stetson."
Of course it is. "How many of them are there?"
"There’s four, and if you’re trying to avoid them, forget it. They’re all over there, usually blowing off steam after riding."
"Great," I say, trying to hold back what I’m really thinking. “I know all about Trouble. Who are the others?”
“Okay, so Rogue’s the one who just shotgunned that beer. He’s basically Trouble’s twin—same face, same smirk—but with green eyes and maybe even fewer boundaries, if that’s possible. Like, if Trouble’s a firecracker, Rogue’s a lit stick of dynamite.”
I nod, taking him in. Rogue looks like the type of guy who’d say his day consists of gym, tanning, and tequila. But maybe I’m just judging because he looks so much like Trouble.
