My eyebrows shoot up.That's massive.Enforcer's not just a title, it's responsibility, power, trust."Damn.That's huge.You gonna take it?"
"Yeah."
I nod, genuinely impressed.Cowboy's earned it ten times over."Enforcer Cowboy.It has a nice ring to it."
"It's a big responsibility," he says, but I can hear the pride underneath.
"If anyone can handle it, it's you," I say, and I mean it."After everything you've done for the club, for Caoimhe and Saoirse, you've proven yourself ten times over."
He looks at me, something grateful in his expression."Thanks, man.How about you?"he asks, turning it around on me."Still playing the field?"
I grimace.I wish I could say yes.I wish I could say I'm fine, moving on, business as usual."Kind of in a situation there."
"What kind of situation?"
I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one's listening too close.The clubhouse has ears everywhere.Then I lean in."Do you know that new waitress at Callie's bar in the Northside?Tall, blonde, covered in tattoos?"
Cowboy thinks for a moment."Enya?"
Just hearing her name does something to my chest."That's the one."I take another long swig of my beer, buying time."We hooked up last weekend."
"And?"he prompts me when I don't continue.
"And I can't stop thinking about her.Which is fucked up, because I'm pretty sure she hates my guts."
Cowboy laughs.He can't help himself."Why would she hate you?"
Here it comes.The part where I admit what a complete fucking eejit I am.I rub the back of my neck, feeling heat crawling up it."I might have, uh, called her the wrong name.At a critical moment."
"Jesus Christ," he groans.Actually groans."Tell me you didn't."
"In my defense, they sound alike!Enya, Emma...easy mistake."
Even as I say it, I know how shite it sounds.There's no defense.No excuse that makes it better.
Cowboy shakes his head, torn between amusement and secondhand embarrassment."You're a disaster, you know that?"
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, staring into my beer."But seriously, what do I do?I really like this girl."
And that's the truth of it, isn't it?I really fucking like her.More than I should for one night.More than makes sense.
"Grovel," Cowboy suggests."Apologize profusely.Maybe send flowers.Then apologize again."
I consider it.Groveling's not really my style, but for her?Maybe."Grovel, huh?I could do that."
Before Cowboy can offer more advice, Caoimhe appears at his side, slipping her arm through his."What are you boys plotting over here?"she asks, eyes dancing with mischief.
"Tank's love life," Cowboy tells her."Or lack thereof."
"Ah," she says, and there's this knowing look on her face that makes my stomach drop."The blonde from O’Hara's?"
I gape at her."How did you?—"
"Grá told me," Caoimhe explains with a shrug."Small club, big gossip."
Fuck my life.I groan, dropping my head into my hands."Is there anyone who doesn't know?"
"Probably not," Cowboy says, way too cheerfully."Best to just own it at this point."
