From the cemetery, they stopped at Coy’s parents’ to express their condolences. They ate a little of the massive spread of food and drinks people had brought over; then the guys changed clothes in Coy’s old childhood bedroom and they headed for a spot called the Bird’s Nest, where Kirby had reserved the back room.
A lot of guys Josh knew were there, some with women, vets Coy had known, friends of his in the Corp, friends of Coy’s who lived in Gainesville. Some of them were drinking beer, some tossing back tequila shooters.
Josh ordered a Jack straight up, wished he could just upend the bottle and drink till he couldn’t feel the pain of losing another friend, but he was driving and Tory was with him.
He caught her around the waist and lifted her up on a bar stool. She peeled off her black suit coat, leaving her in a little peach silk blouse that draped over her pretty breasts and made her look way too sexy, as far as Josh was concerned.
She ordered a Coors Light, sipped the beer, and was a good sport as the guys reminisced about Coy. Josh found himself laughing at the crazy things his friend had done and it really felt good.
“I remember a night at Camp Lejeune before he went spec ops,” Mac said. “We were in this bar called the Queen of Hearts. Coy was drunk when we got there. He spent an hour trying to get this gal to leave with him. Then he goes to the head and when he comes out, one of his best buddies has left with her.”
“Coy was really pissed,” Kirby said. “The other guys were laughing so hard, Coy finally gave up and started laughing, too. Coy was always cool.”
The guys chuckled and even Tory smiled, if a little sadly. The stories went on, began to turn bawdy as the men got drunker.
“Time to leave,” Josh said. “I need to pay the bill; then we’re out of here.”
Unfortunately, on the way out of the bar, a drunken cowboy found Tory a little too appealing.
“What’s your name, sweet thing?” He was big, good-looking if he hadn’t been so wasted.
“She’s with me,” Josh warned, urging her forward, but the cowboy blocked her way.
“He don’t own you, sweetheart.” He leered, stuck out his hand. “Name’s Cody. You wanna dance? What do you say?”
Josh clamped down on his temper.
Tory politely refused. “Thanks, Cody, but at the moment, I’m not available.”
“Aw, come on.” The cowboy shouldn’t have grabbed her, shouldn’t have pushed his luck, not when Josh was wound tighter than a calf roper’s pigging string. Not when he was just itching to work off some of his frustrations.
Grabbing the cowboy by the front of his western shirt, Josh drew back to punch him, but Mac caught his arm.
“Take it easy, Superman. Guy’s just drunk and your girl’s real pretty. Give the dude a break.”
He sighed. Mac was right. He wasn’t usually like this. He was usually fairly even tempered, and he’d never been this possessive of a woman.
Pulling his arm free, he shoved the guy a couple of feet away. The cowboy swore foully, but didn’t come back for more.
“Sorry,” Josh said to Mac.
“Wouldn’t take much to have all of us in a fight. We’d probably feel better if we did.”
Josh knew he would. He felt Tory’s hand in his. “Come on, soldier. Time to go.”
He didn’t argue. Even better than a fistfight would be taking Victoria Bradford to bed.
* * *
Knowing it was past time to leave, Tory led Josh out to his truck. She stuck out her hand, palm up. “Give me the keys.”
“I’m all right. I didn’t drink that much.”
“Kirby bought you another shot of Jack and you had a couple of beers. Just to be safe, give me the keys.”
One of his eyebrows went up. “You sure you can drive this thing?”
“Sure. I worked on an ad for Ford trucks. I had an idea to appeal to female drivers, but I wanted to test it out. I drove a big dually, didn’t have a lick of trouble.”
