“Seriously, though,” Silas adds, pushing off the doorway. “If any idiot at The Hollow gives you grief, send me a text, and I’ll show up in my most intimidating shirt.”
“You don’t own an intimidating shirt,” Caleb says.
“It’s all about attitude, Westbrook.”
I huff a laugh. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to go.”
The Hollow is already buzzing when I arrive.
Strings of fairy lights hang crookedly over the outdoor patio. Music thrums from inside, and the neon sign above the door flickers, as if deciding whether to continue functioning.
I tug my coat tighter around my dress and step inside.
The bar smells of beer, frying oil, and nostalgia. Mismatched tables crowd the floor, half the stools are occupied by regulars, and the walls are lined with old photos of town events and framed concert flyers.
Arlo is behind the bar, drying a glass with the kind of resigned focus a man gets when he’s accepted that his entire life is going to be spent in a thirty-foot radius.
His eyes dart up as I weave through the crowd.
“Well, damn,” he says, giving a low whistle. “Sunridge really let you off the leash tonight.”
“Hi, Arlo,” I say, rolling my eyes.
He studies me for a beat. “You want your usual?”
“Do I have a usual?”
“You look like you want something with lemon in it.”
“That tracks,” I admit. “Something with lemon would be great. And maybe a shot of courage.”
“Courage is extra,” he says. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
“Laney!”
The shout nearly knocks me off my barstool.
Sloane barrels into me in a blur of dark curls and glittery eyeshadow, wrapping me in a hug. She smells of vanilla, hairspray, and trouble.
“You came,” she says, leaning back to look at me. “Oh my goodness, look at you.”
I brace myself.
Here it comes.
The Sloane Katz Full Body Review.
She steps back, hands on my shoulders, eyes traveling from my boots up the length of my legs, over the dress, to my face. Her expression shifts from playful to positively gleeful.
“Okay,” she says. “Ranch wife fantasy. I see you.”
“I… no,” I sputter. “This is just… I had one dress…”
“And it’s perfect.” She fans herself. “If anyone at Sunridge doesn’t fall at your feet after tonight, I’m filing a complaint.”
“I’m not trying to make anyone?—”
“Too late.” She wiggles her brows. “Damage done.”
