The feed store incident plays on a loop in my head. That guy probably would’ve asked for my number if I hadn’t made such a spectacle. I have a habit of ruining things before they have a chance to go anywhere, and I’m exhausted by it. If I want anything more than a near miss, I have to be willing to take more risks and face my fears head-on.
It’s only seven forty-five, which is early by bar standards. Normally, when the girls are busy, I stay in and rewatch whatever episodes ofGilmore Girlsmy mama watched that day so I’m caught up before our next visit. But tonight, though, feels like the perfect opportunity to do something wildly out of character—like put on a dress, go to the bar, and find a man to hook up with. Maybe with a little alcohol in my system, I won’t overthink every detail like usual. It’s as good a night as any to lose my virginity, and hopefully, with some experience under my belt, I can play it cool the next time someone shows interest in me.
With my mind made up, I finish off the rest of my lasagna, hop off the couch, and rush down the hall to my room, dialing Earl as I go—looks like I’ll be cashing in on that free ride sooner than expected.
Shots & Propositions
Istep into Blue Moon Tavern, the heavy door swinging shut behind me. The place is dimly lit, filled with dark wood and worn leather. A long bar stretches the length of the room and mismatched tables are scattered around, their surfaces nicked and worn from decades of brawls and spilled whiskey. A fiddle-heavy country song blares from the jukebox, competing with the clink of glasses, loud laughter, and arguments that sound like one drink away from turning into a fist fight. Just an average Saturday night at the only bar in town.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Our favorite deputy finally decided to grace us with his presence,” Ryker calls from behind the bar. “Want your usual?”
“Just one.” I take a seat, pulling off my hat and resting it on the counter beside me. “I have to drive back to the ranch later.”
“There was a time you’d stay until close and leave with a pretty woman on your arm and still manage to show up here the next evening ready for round two.” I wince, recalling a part of my past I’d rather forget.
Growing up, Heath was the reliable one, ready to take on whatever Pops sent his way, and Briar eagerly helped around the ranch, determined to do her part. As for me, I focused on finding ways to avoid my responsibilities, which inevitably got me into trouble, earning me far more lectures than praise as a teenager. I was reckless, forever chasing the next thrill and basking in every flirty glance from the beautiful women who crossed my path, never thinking about the consequences.
As I got older, I wanted more from life, and when Sheriff Matterson was searching for another volunteer deputy, I jumped at the opportunity. It was the chance I’d been waiting for to carve out a path for myself beyond the family business and prove that I could take on real responsibility.
What I hadn’t expected was to catch feelings for Birdie in the process. Before I joined the sheriff’s office, she’d just been Briar’s friend. But she brought her dad lunch every day and started running her unsanctioned animal rescues shortly after I started at the sheriff’s office, which regularly landed her in trouble. We started having long conversations while she waited for her dad to slap her on the wrist, and over time, falling for her became inevitable.
Ryker slides a chilled Coors Banquet in front of me, and I lean back as I take a long swig.
“Thanks, man.”
He nods, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“What? You worried I’ll bail without paying or something?” I tease.
He shakes his head as he pours a local IPA into pint glasses. “Just curious, are you here on official business or as a favor to Briar?”
I run a hand through my hair, confused by his question. “Neither. I’d never drink on the job, and why would I be here for my sister?”
Briar occasionally drops by with her friends, but since she got together with Jensen, most of her weekends are spent at the cottage with him and Caleb. What started as a nanny gig last summer turned into her and Jensen falling in love, and the three of them becoming a family.
Ryker hands the pints to a nearby couple before coming back over to me.
“So Briar didn’t call you?” he asks hesitantly.
“No. I was in town and decided to come by for a beer. Now stop being so cryptic and tell me what’s going on.” I scan the room, looking for something that doesn’t belong.
At first glance, nothing seems out of place. There’s the typical crowd of regulars enjoying a night of drinking, a lively pool game taking place, and a pair of cowboys bickering over a poker game at a nearby table. It’s not until I glance at the other patrons at the bar that I spot the problem.
Birdie is here, sitting alone. There is no sign of Charlie or her other friends. She’s perched on a stool at the short end of the bar, diagonally across from me, giving me a direct view. She’s too absorbed in her drink to notice me, holding a cocktail with a pink umbrella, her lips puckering around the straw as she takes a sip. I imagine what it would feel like to have that mouth on mine as I run my hands along the curves of her hips.
Goddammit. Stay focused, Walker.
“When did she get here?” I tilt my head in Birdie’s direction.
“Two hours ago.” Ryker responds. “She asked for a shot of tequila and told me to keep them coming.”
I count eight shot glasses in front of her, and slam down my beer, liquid sloshing over the rim. “What the hell? How many have you served her?”
“Take it easy,” Ryker says as he wipes up the mess I made. “She hasn’t realized it, but she’s been doing shots of ginger ale since her fourth, and that cocktail she’s drinking?” He motions to the red liquid in Birdie’s glass. “Is cranberry juice with sparkling water. She doesn’t hold her liquor well, so I’d say a hangover is inevitable, but she’s still coherent enough to carry on a conversation without slurring.”
I grunt my appreciation. As much as I dislike that she came here alone, I’m relieved Ryker’s watching out for her.
Unfortunately, my relief is short-lived when she scoots closer to the man sitting beside her. His name is Dalton Miller, and he’s one of the ranch hands Heath recently hired. I don’t know him well, but he’s about to earn a top spot on my shit list if he lets Birdie get any closer.
