“I don’t have to tell you that you deserve better,” he says. “But I will if you want me to.”
“Thanks.” Riley cleans another beer glass. “I guess I forgot.”
Blake shakes his head at her. “Never forget that, Riley. That guy was obviously an ass.”
Gigi pipes up that she’s trying to understand Darcy better. “Since our talk at the creek last night, Macey,” she says pointedly.
I let out a breath. “I didn’t mean anything rude by it, Gigi. I’m sorry if you took it that way.”
“Not at all. But I found out lots of new things about Logan this morning when I talked to his mother. Like how he was born on the ranch at the same moment their oldest bull passed away. So, over to you, Macey. How old were you when you first served a drink at this bar?”
“I guess around fourteen.”
“I was never allowed,” Riley pipes in.
“I tried once when I was twelve,” says Ben.
My mouth drops open. “Twelve? That’s horrible!”
Ben grins. “Mama took the drink away.”
I turn to Skip. “All of this is off the record, by the way. Don’t even think about it.”
He nods. “Of course. Nothing about your family.”
Nobody thinks twice about Skip’s comment. Except for one person.
Logan leans forward and gives Skip a hard look. “What does that mean, nothing about her family? What are you talking about?”
Skip shrinks back from Logan’s intense gaze. “Um…”
“Figure of speech.” I wave my hand casually in the air. “Don’t be so paranoid, Logan.”
But Logan’s not finished. “What are you doing here, anyway? Are you spying on Macey?”
I tap Skip on the shoulder. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? You and Jon?”
Skip mumbles some excuse about low blood sugar, and he hustles Jon and himself out the door.
Once they’re gone, Gigi turns to me again. “Macey, Logan told me you don’t hunt. How come you’re so good with a gun, but you don’t hunt?”
I look at Logan, willing him to answer on my behalf.
He keeps the eye contact with me as he says, “Macey enjoys shooting, not hunting, that’s all.”
“How come?” Gigi asks.
“You should ask Macey herself,” Logan says.
I take a deep breath. Well, it’s really none of her business, and I know I can lie and tell her anything I want, but I haven’t told the story in so long it’s almost like I need to get it off my chest.
“I was nine years old,” I begin.
“Oh, this is the saddest story.” Riley puts her elbows on the bar and leans closer.
I give her a look but keep going. “Daddy’d run off again, and Mama asked me to go get us some dinner. ‘Take the shotgun,’ she said. ‘And remember to keep it locked till you’re ready to shoot.’ I went out and found a rabbit.” I pause and inhale. “I’ll always remember its eyes as it froze, cornered, and just stared up at me. Its eyes looked just like mine. The same color with the same fear in them. Honestly, it still haunts me. And I knew then I could never hunt. I didn’t have it in me. So I let the rabbit go and walked into town to beg the clerk at the corner store for an advance on groceries.” I give Gigi a half-smile. “I’m a hypocrite, of course, because I eat meat like the rest of my family. So I don’t judge anybody for hunting as long as they eat what they kill and don’t just do it for sport. Because if it’s just a sport, you should shoot beer cans like I do.”
Gigi gazes at me with those big wide eyes. “Macey, that is a terrible story. I’m never going to eat rabbit again!”
