The innuendo in her voice is unmistakable, and I feel heat flood my face like I've been caught doing something I shouldn't.
Colt's expression has gone thunderous, but before he can respond, Emma claps her hands together with the satisfaction of someone who's just won a particularly satisfying argument.
"That settles it then. Lucy, meet me at my house at seven sharp. Colt will give you directions…he knows where I live, seeing as how he helped build half of it." She heads for the door with a spring in her step, then pauses, looking back at both of us with a grin that belongs in a wanted poster.
"And Lucy? If you're gonna turn heads tonight, might as well do it in boots and eyeliner. Trust me on this one, I know what works in this town."
The door swings shut behind her, leaving Colt and me standing in sudden, charged silence that feels thick enough to cut with a knife.
"I should probably warn you," he says finally, his voice carefully neutral in the way that means he's working hard to keep it that way.
"My sister's idea of a quiet night out usually involves at least three watering holes and someone's reputation in tatters by sunrise."
I look at him, taking in the way his shoulders are rigid with tension, the way he's holding Gucci like a fluffy shield between us, the way his green eyes are fixed somewhere over my left shoulder instead of meeting mine.
"Maybe that's exactly what I need," I hear myself say, and the words surprise me as much as they seem to surprise him.
"Lucy..." The way he growls my name is half warning, half something I don't want to name because it makes my knees weak.
But I'm already moving toward the door, because if I stay here much longer, listening to the rough desperation in his voice, watching the way his hands clench around that ridiculous chicken, I'm going to do something monumentally stupid.
Something that will make leaving feel impossible instead of inevitable.
The countdown that used to feel like salvation now feels like an anchor dragging me toward a decision I'm not ready to make. And I'm not sure which scares me more, the thought of staying and risking everything, or the thought of leaving and losing this feeling forever.
But for tonight, maybe I can pretend I'm just Lucy Reid, normal twenty-year-old girl going out with a friend. Maybe I can pretend that the way Colt's watching me doesn't make my pulse race, or that I'm not already wondering what kind of trouble Emma has planned.
Maybe for one night, I can forget the ticking clock entirely. Pretend there's no deadline hanging over my head, no escape plan mapped out in meticulous detail.
Just boots, eyeliner, and the dangerous possibility of belonging somewhere long enough to call it home.
11
Lucy
The Dusty Spur thrums with Friday night energy. Pool balls crack against worn felt, beer bottles clink on scarred wooden tables, and Luke Bryan croons from the ancient jukebox.
The air smells like fried onions, spilled beer, and the kind of honest sweat that comes from a week of hard work.
I slide into a cracked vinyl booth across from Emma, who's practically vibrating with the freedom of a rare night away from her baby. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and I can already tell this was a dangerous idea.
Tonight's supposed to be simple. Dancing, gossip, maybe some harmless flirting with strangers. No drama, no daydreams, and definitely no cowboy complications that make my heart do stupid things.
"Two Cokes," Emma tells the waitress. Then she leans forward with a wicked grin. "Unless you want somethingstronger? Fair warning though, Jimmy pours like he's prepping bodies for the funeral home."
"Coke's perfect." I fiddle with a cardboard coaster, ignoring the way my stomach knots. The last and only time I touched alcohol, I ended up sobbing on my bathroom floor after Mom's funeral, the world spinning so hard I couldn't tell if I was drowning or just dying inside.
Haven't touched a drop since.
"So," Emma drawls, stealing a fry from the basket between us before it's even fully landed on our table. "Whole town's buzzing about how you saved Beau Blackwell's prize border collie."
My stomach does a little flip. "The whole town?"
"Honey, Mrs. Henderson saw Gabriel's cruiser at the clinic, lights flashing and all. That's better than cable around here." She grins like she's just served up the juiciest gossip of the year.
"Though word is you wrestled that dog away from a whole pack of coyotes. Very heroic."
"It was one coyote. Maybe. Could've been a really pissed-off raccoon for all I know."
