“You don’t have to babysit me,” I murmur.
She arches an eyebrow. “Not doin’ that at all, Sarah. I’m not the dancin’ kind. But Mav is.” She smiles then. “So…he may come by and convince me.”
There’s such possessiveness as she talks about her fiancé. I know it’s not been an easy road for her family, what with her sister in prison for the murder of her husband and for sabotaging Aria’s ranch. But she doesn’t seem to be carrying those burdens. She’s happy, content, her eyes seeking out Mav.
“Aria.” Bree Keaton walks up to us.
Bree hugs her friend and grins at me. “How’s it goin’, Sarah?”
“Good.”
I remember her in passing. She wasn’t part of Cade’s and my friend group. But…she was there, then. I prepare myself.
I hate myself for feeling this way—always waiting for something to go wrong, for someone to take a shot at me. I’ve seen Bree out at Aria’s ranch, and she’s never been anything but polite, yet here I am, straightening my spine like I’ve got to defend myself from her.
The sad truth is, I expect the worst from people. And when it comes—the nasty comment, the sideways look—there’s almost a sense of relief. At least then I don’t have to wait for the axe to fall.
It’s when people are kind that I get nervous. That’s when the ground feels unstable, when I start to wonder if maybe I can trust again. And then the panic comes because I know how that movie ends: with the floor dropping out, and me flat on my back, hurting.
“Bree, what the fuck are you doin’ here?” Kaz is literally in her face, and I’m guessing that we have yet another drama.
“Mind your own business.” She waves to Moxy. “Get me a?—”
“Nothing,” Kaz cuts her off. “She’s on antibiotics for that ear infection she had, so she’s not mixin’ it with alcohol.”
She gives him a look that could peel paint. “God! One would think you’re my father.”
Kaz grins at her and yanks her blonde braid. “You can call me Daddy anytime.”
“Ewww!” This comes from Aria. “What’s with the daddy nonsense? Joy wants to call Hunt daddy and now you, too.Ugh!”
“It’s a well-known romance kink,” Moxy tells us as she places a bottle of water in front of Bree. “Bree, darlin’, come back when you’re done with your medical shit, and I’ll serve ya, alright?”
“Et tu, Moxy,” Bree says with mock bitterness.
“I got no idea what that means.” Moxy gives her a bland smile and gets on with serving others. “But if it means I won’t serve ya when you’re drugged up, you can put money on it.”
“You’re not well enough to be out, Bree,” Kaz continues.
Just then, Mav comes and wraps his arms around his fiancée and rests his chin on her hair.
“Mav, tell Kaz to stop being an overbearing asshole,” Bree requests.
“Don’t drag me into this. I’m Paul, and this is between y’all,” Mav says smoothly. “Dance with me, baby.”
Aria giggles like a schoolgirl, and off the two go.
I watch them, Joy, and Hunt, while Kaz and Bree continue to bicker.
Hunt bends low, murmurs something in Joy’s ear. She swats him in mock outrage, her cheeks pink.
“Hey, Sarah, come on, let’s dance,” Kaz insists, catching my hand before I can tuck it under the table.
“Ah…I think you should dance with Bree.” I gesture toward her because anyone with eyes can see that those two have something simmering.
The town already calls me a whore, and the last thing I need is more fuel for the fire.
“I’d rather muck stalls barefoot,” Bree shoots back. She flicks Kaz a glare, then smiles affectionately at me. “No offense, Sarah, but he’s on my shitlist right now.”
