‘I fucking hate tequila,’ she grimaced.
‘Since when?’ I asked, reaching out for Bailey’s beer and passing it to her, rubbing her shoulder.
Jesse watched us, open curiosity in his stare.
‘Since Kyle,’ Lottie murmured, prompting what was almost a growl from Cole, his arm moving from the back of her chair to her shoulders.
‘Prick,’ he hissed.
‘Bang on,’ I nodded, noticing the guy from the rodeo near the bar, seemingly telling one hell of a joke as the others fell around laughing. ‘Kyle is a grade-A wanker. Still, at least you got an upgrade out of it.’
I winked at Lottie and returned Cole’s smile.
‘And somehow you’ve managed not to say I told you so,’ Lottie noted, looking up at me from under her eyelashes, even making Bailey chuckle. ‘Hes knew that Kyle wasn’t good for me from day one . . . but I wasn’t really up for listening.’
‘There’s still time,’ I countered, giving her a wink, pausing as Jesse smiled at me before sipping his drink. ‘Shame I don’t have the same radar for myself.’
Lottie shrugged.
‘Cal’s not so bad, though, just . . . a mess.’
It was my turn to shrug as I glanced at Bailey. She was all but folded in on herself, clearly resting the blame for what had happened squarely on her shoulders.
‘Bailey, honey!’ a voice called from nearby. A group of women, including Darcy, beckoned her over.
‘Anyone I need on my radar over there?’ I said to her, gratified as a shy smile bloomed. ‘You just give the signal if you need me. Or if you need more shots.’
‘Thanks, darlin’, I will,’ she said, getting up and slouching over to them to be enveloped in a many-armed hug.
Jesse studied me as I watched the group. Bailey was nodding self-consciously at their attempts to console her, managing the occasional smile.
‘You’re a real ol’ mama bear, huh?’ he said softly, angling his chair towards me as Lottie and Cole leant into each other, deep in conversation.
I shook my head, not quite meeting his eye.
‘I hate seeing good people beating themselves up.’ I looked back over at the bar area. The guy from the rodeo, Carter, returned the glance, touching the brim of his hat. ‘Anyone in pain, actually. Mental or physical.’
‘Ever think about the medical profession?’ he asked, leaning forward, chin in his hand, his depthless grey eyes flickering over my face.
‘Did psychology at university,’ I said, suddenly wary at his serious expression, the depth of his interest in my answers. ‘Turns out, being fucked up yourself isn’t a qualification for helping others in the same boat.’
He kept his expression neutral, but his eyes darkened for a moment. There was a level of understanding there, beneath the banter. Unnerved by him yet again, I picked up the last spare shot and downed it.
Shifting gears, his expression softened and a mischievous smile grew. ‘So, seeing as you know exactly what I’m thinking, given your degree and all, I reckon it’s only fair I get to know you a little.’
He gestured towards the bar, catching a bartender’s attention and nodding, setting up a fresh rack of shots. I paused, knowing exactly what he was up to, but simultaneously not wanting to back down from the challenge.
‘You don’t have to get me drunk to get in my –’ I began, stopping as he chuckled, nodding to Cole and Lottie, now getting up to go dance.
‘Highly recommend the corridor behind the bar,’ Lottie called, waving with a coy smile as Cole led her away.
‘Honey, I am mighty fond of how good you are to go at any moment,’ Jesse replied, thanking the bartender as eight shots arrived. ‘But I still don’t know much about you. And I want to. So – here’s the game. I guess something about you, and if I’m right, you drink. If I’m wrong, I drink.’
I knew full well this had all the hallmarks of an extremely stupid decision, and yet . . .
‘Do your worst, cowboy.’
Leaning in, I took off my hat and shook out my hair, running my fingers through it. He stilled for a moment, eyes darting across my face, then down to the denim dress and my bare legs below.
