I haven’t got time to put a full face on. Luckily for me my skin is sun-kissed and not in need of much. Pulling on my mascara I quickly make my eyelashes longer.
Giving myself a once over in the mirror, I don’t looking half bad, aside from my puffy ass eyes. Making it look like I’ve gone two rounds withMike Tysonand lost miserably.
Just great.
I let out a big huff and rush back into the kitchen. I spot my bag and throw my phone, keys and wallet in there. Luckily for me my pink cowboy boots are right next to the front door. Pulling them on, I double take through the curtain to make sure Maverick isn’t still lingering.
Deciding the coast is clear as the truck I saw earlier isn’t visible, I make my exit.
Jogging over to my truck, I pull on the driver’s door, throw my bag onto the passenger’s seat and fire up the engine. I flick my eyes onto the dashboard and see the time; ten-past-seven.
Yeah, I’m late.
Just like they’d predicted.
But not for the reason I could be late, an excuse entirely out of anyone’s control.
****
Driving into the parking lot of McCoy’s, I manage to make it here in record time. Jake starts at half seven, so I make it with minutes to spare.
I hurl myself out of the driver’s cabin and slam my door shut. I start a light jog into the crowded bar, throwing my arm up to lock my truck with the key.
Scanning the crowd, I spot my friends next to the bar, drinks already in their hands, blissfully unaware of what I’ve just endured.
“Here she is!” I hear Luke shout across the bar.
Squeezing my way through far too many people I recognise, I reach my friends as Hope hands me a glass of whiskey. Taking hold of the drink, I knock it back down my throat. The liquid burning as it goes down.
Placing the finished glass back on the bar, signally Mack, the barman, for another.
“Woah, girl. Slow down. What’s got your panties in a twist?” Iris asks.
“Don’t ask,”I say, trying to divert the attention away.
I take my drink, and I knock this one back also.
Fuck it.
And fuck my life.
I’ll get my truck tomorrow. I need this after what’s just happened.
Feeling slightly more relaxed, I take a deep breath and scan the area. McCoy’s doesn’t look like much from the outside, however inside your taken back in time.
The rustic-feel coming from the walls covered in country music’s finest artists; from Queen Dolly herself down to newer artists likeLuke CombsandCody Johnson.
I smile back at the scene before me, holding tightly onto my glass. TheTennessee Titan’sfootball shirts line up alongside the pictures, as well as a few neon cowboy boot signs shining light through the dark bar. A small stage sits in the corner, sporting a microphone and a guitar on its stand.
Jake’s guitar.
As I look towards the guitar, Jake walks onto the small stage, talking to Cole. Cole owns our favourite bar and is somewhat of a legend ‘round here.
He keeps the cowboys filled with beer and whiskey ‘til their hearts content. Or until they can’t walk. However way you want to look at it.
Snickering at the thought, I turn my attention back to my friends.
“So, what’s up, girly?” Luke shouts over the crowd.
