He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, passing me a sidelong glance. “I’m here helping Pops with fall vaccinations and separating the herd.”
The way he says it makes it sound like he’s some good Samaritan instead of someone trying to sell off the family ranch out from underPops. I slant a knowing look in his direction, and he crosses his arms over his chest and glowers back.
Other conversations break out at the table, and I lean forward, hissing under my breath, “I can’t believe you’re here tonight instead of at the house with Pops. You just got to town.”
He cuts me a dark look. “Pops isn't even home. He had his weekly pitch night with his friends.”
I huff out an irritated breath and take another drink, only to realize my glass is empty already. I frown into my cup, and Wes excuses himself to use the bathroom. When he walks away, several of the women watch him go.
“I wonder if he has a girl back in the city,” Cheyenne says, eyes glued to his ass in the designer jeans he wore out tonight.
I lean back and shake my head at her. “I’m sure Trevor would love to know that you’re wondering,” I retort, reminding her she has a husband at home and two kids to boot.
“You’re in rare form tonight,” Allie snickers into her drink.
Cheyenne gives me a venomous glare. Her lips tip up into a smile that’s nothing but acid that looks like sugar. “I heard you had a date with Kyle the other night,” she says, her voice cloying.
“I had an error in judgment.”
“Funny, he said the same thing about going out with you.” Her smile is smug, and I’d really love to wipe that look off her perfect face.
Before I have a chance to make a snide remark, a hand reaches around, placing a drink on the table in front of me. “Here you go, Red.”
I glare up at Wes, who gives me a conciliatory look. “Are you hitting on me?” I ask.
"And risk getting a drink thrown in my face like Kyle? God, no."
"Then what's this for?" I ask, not trusting that it's some random act of kindness.
His head tips down so his mouth is right next to my ear. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot, and I owe you one.” His breath fans across my neck, making goosebumps crop up on my skin.
He can’t be waving a white flag already.
My head swings toward him. His mouth is just an inch from mine, and something tightens in my abdomen. I lean back, giving him a bemused look."Owe me for what?"
He glances down at the bandaged hand I helped remove the sliver from earlier.
I nod in acknowledgement. “Fine. I’ll allow it,” I say, taking a sip of the beer he put in front of me.
"Keep showing your teeth, Red. I've never minded a few bite marks."
He looks pleased as a peach when my cheeks heat once more, and I wonder exactly what he thinks he’s won by getting me to accept a free beer. From where I’m sitting, he’s the one looking like a chump, doling out free beers for five minutes of first aid.
Hair of the Dog
Wes
Ithunder down the narrow stairs directly into the kitchen where Pops is nursing his coffee, filled with the cream I picked up in town yesterday. I pray there’s some pain killers somewhere around here, or I’m going to be in for a world of hurt today.
After living so long with anything I could possibly need or want only a short drive away, being back here with the bare minimum in the way of amenities and a maximum of insects will take some getting used to.
I drank last night like I was twenty instead of the ripe age of thirty-five I am. I was too old for those shots of Jose Cuervo that Tripp had offered me, but I had needed to loosen up—not be so worried about what everyone else thought and just have a good time.
I was paying for those poor choices this morning.
“Well, don’t you look delighted and thrilled to be here this morning?” Pops smiles into his coffee mug.
“Aspirin?” I grunt.
