Once I’ve had two more drinks, the buzz is enough to make me feel like I could take on a bull if I needed to. I glance over at Clint again.
This time, he’s sitting at the bar, a few feet away from the crowd, nursing a whiskey. He doesn’t look over at me this time.
Perfect. Maybe I can just… walk up to him and do this. Just like Violet said. Tell him.
I push myself up from the booth, swaying a little more than I’d like to admit, and make my way through the throng of people. The music is loud, the chatter a constant hum, and I lose my nerve.
I stop in my tracks, staring at the back of Clint’s head, heart thumping harder now. This was a mistake, right? I should go back to the booth.
Yeah, that’s better.
But then I catch myself. No. I can’t keep hiding forever.
I take another step, and my foot hits the edge of the bar stool as I approach. Clint turns just in time to see me. There’s a flicker of recognition in his gaze, but it fades quickly, replaced by a hesitation that makes my stomach twist.
“Dakota,” he says coolly. He doesn’t quite know how to navigate this either.
He doesn’t get up, doesn’t move from his spot on the stool. Just watches me, guarded, waiting for me to lead the conversation.
I blink a few times, my nerves flaring. This was supposed to be easier.
“Hey, Clint,” I say, clearing my throat. “You, uh, having a good time tonight?”
He shifts slightly, his hand running over his whiskey glass.
“Yeah. You know… parade, town… just another Colter Creek kind of night.” He offers me a tight, unsure smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you? Enjoying being back?”
The question feels loaded. I swallow hard. “It’s… it’s been good. Nice to see everyone.”
We stand there in silence for a beat too long, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a knife. My eyes flicker to the glass in front of him, and then to the floor. Why is this so hard?
Clint shifts again, his boots scraping the floor as he moves uncomfortably on his stool.
He looks like he wants to say something more, but instead he picks up his drink, takes a slow sip, and mutters, “Guess we’ve both got a lot on our minds.”
That’s my cue, right? Right?
I look up at him, my throat dry.
“Yeah, you could say that.” I take a step closer, trying to steady myself, trying to remember why I came here in the first place. “Look, Clint, there’s something I?—”
He interrupts me, quick, a little too quick, like he’s trying to get it all out before he loses his nerve. “Uh, are you, uh, staying for long? I mean… you’re just here for the house, right? You know, the sale? Are you having any luck with that?”
I laugh awkwardly, trying to break the tension. “Yeah, the house. Right. I have a lot to do on the house, but I’m sure it’ll be fine in the end.”
I start to say something else, but it catches in my throat. I glance at him, and he’s staring at me, looking more lost than anything. I shake my head, trying to push the nervousness down.
“Look, Clint, I… I need to tell you something.”
Clint’s eyebrows furrow. “Uh, okay. What’s going on?”
It feels like the universe has pressed pause. I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing as I try to find the words.
This isn’t exactly how I thought this was going to go. He’s not angry. He’s not even mad. He’s just… clueless.
I take another deep breath. “Clint, I?—”
Before I can get any further, the door swings open and a group of rowdy cowboys bursts in, loud laughter filling the space. I glance over at the noise, but that’s enough to break the fragile moment.
