My nostrils flare when she giggles at something he says, leaning in to run a hand along his tattooed bicep.
“Come on, Birdie, do something awkward. Anything,” I mutter.
She’s normally a whirlwind of flustered energy around men she’s interested in, yet when there’s another instance I need her to fumble, she’s calm and collected. It seems a little liquid courage is all it takes to tame her nerves.
“You good?” Ryker questions as he mixes drinks for a group of women across the bar. “You look two seconds from decking someone, and I’d rather not deal with another brawl tonight.”
“I’m fine,” I grunt, taking a swig of beer.
My racing pulse says otherwise. With my shitty luck, I’m about to witness Birdie and Dalton share their first kiss, setting off a chain reaction that ends with wedding bells and a baby announcement.
“If you squeeze that bottle any tighter, it’s going to shatter, and it’ll be a pain in the ass to clean up.” I blink at Ryker, his warning registering as I take a deep breath and loosen my grip. “Sure you’re okay? I’m beginning to think you’re the one who needs a ride home, and you’ve barely touched your beer.”
“Yeah. It’s just been a long day.”
And it’s only getting worse.
“I know exactly what you need.”
“What’s that?”
“To find a pretty lady to enjoy the evening with.” He smirks.
It’s been a while since I slept with someone—longer than I care to admit.
There was a time I would’ve agreed with Ryker without hesitation and shamelessly flirted with the first woman who caught my interest until she was begging me to take her home. I never took them to my place, which made it easy to stick to my no-strings rule. In hindsight, I’m not proud of how I used my charm to keep things casual and treated intimacy as a game, making a meaningful relationship impossible.
Now, years later, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be with a certain blonde, blue-eyed beauty who has me completely under her spell without even realizing it. If I were lucky enough to get a chance, it would end with her inmybed, where she belongs.
“I’m not interested in a casual hookup,” I confess to Ryker.
He lets out a low whistle. “Don’t tell me the infamous playboy is ready to settle down.”
I bristle, but thankfully I’m spared from replying when I glance over at Birdie just in time to see her knock over several empty shot glasses. They topple behind the bar with a ringing crash, creating a scene similar to the one from just hours ago at the feed store. As she spins around to see the mess she made, her elbow connects with Dalton square in the nose.
He recoils, fumbling for napkins to stop the trickle of blood running down his face.
“Oh, cheese and biscuits,” Birdie blurts loudly, her tone panicked. “I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.”
Dalton just narrows his eyes at her and applies more pressure on his nose.
Birdie’s next words are too soft to hear, but I watch her reach for another napkin to offer him. In her rush, though, she bumps his glass of whiskey hard enough that it tips over, sending amber liquid into his shirtsleeve. He’s lucky there wasn’t much left in the glass, or it would have spilled onto his pants and the floor.
“Why don’t you stop moving before you make an even bigger mess?” Dalton snaps. He’s pulled a few people’s attention with his tone, and even Ryker pauses at the register and glances over.
The whole scene rubs me the wrong way. It was clearly an accident, and he damn well knows it.
Birdie’s shoulders slump as she sinks into her seat, worrying her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay.
“I’d better go to the bathroom to handle this.” Dalton sighs and gestures to his nose, then pulls out a couple of bills from his wallet with his free hand, dropping them to the counter. “I’m going to head out once the bleeding stops, so I’ll see you around.”
“Okay… I really am sorry,” Birdie calls after him.
Turns out I was wrong. Tipsy Birdie is far more accident-prone than I expected. Now I feel like a jackass for hoping she’d stumble, though I can’t deny I’m glad it happened—just wish she didn’t have to pay the price in the process. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for her to be rejected yet again.
Ryker takes in the mess and rushes over with a towel, wiping down the counter where Birdie spilled the whiskey.
“I apologize for the mess,” she says, lowering her head in shame. She’s no longer speaking so softly, and I can’t help the grin threatening to make an appearance.
